Into the Shadows

by Linda K Hopkins

  “The Ancient said he could. She said I already knew all your secrets, so it didn’t matter if I knew where you slept.”

  “I see.” He rubbed his chin. “Why are you here?”

  “I wanted to see you, Kalen.” He raised an eyebrow, and she hurried on. “Since I’m now here, in the dragon’s lair, there seems no point in remaining angry with you. We both know there is something between us.” He was still watching her closely. “I like it when you drink my blood.”

  “What is this, princess?”

  “It’s just, er …” She faltered when she saw his tattoo glow dimly.

  “Yes?” He crossed his arms and gave her a pointed stare.

  “Urgh!” She raised her fists and hit them against the wall as frustration poured out of her. He was immediately behind her, catching them.

  “What is going on?”

  She pulled herself free and turned, and he took a small step back. His chest was bare, and the silver dragons glittered faintly. Lifting her hand, she ran her fingers along the curve of one.

  “Stop,” he whispered.

  “Why?”

  “You know why.”

  Her finger slipped to his nipple and she flicked it; his lips parted, and she moved her finger back to the dragon, scratching it with her nail. His gaze grew unfocused and he drew in a shuddering breath. He grabbed her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing her palm before running his lips up her wrist. He lowered her hand, and then his lips were on hers, hard and demanding. His tongue delved into her mouth, exploring deeply, and she wrapped her hands around his neck, pulling him closer. His mouth slid to her neck, his lips on her skin, and she shuddered.

  He pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting hers. “What is going on?” he asked again.

  She stared at him, taking in every detail of his face; his eyes, so dark they barely had any color, the thick, black eyebrows above. His cheekbones were high, and his jawline slightly square. A strong, masculine face. His lips were full and red from kissing her. A tear slipped from the corner of her eye.

  “You should have killed me when you had the chance,” she said.

  “No. I told you before, I could not do it. I wanted to, especially when I learned who you were. The pampered, overfed daughter of the commander, pleading for your brother’s life. But that was not what stayed my hand – I am immune to the pleas of the pathetic. There was something else. Something that stirred my blood, and I knew that I was stuck with you.”

  The tears were coming faster now, and he wiped them with his thumbs. “What is this, princess?”

  “I wish things had been different, Kalen. I wish … I wish I had never gone to collect those herbs.”

  “Then you would already be married to a man who would shackle you and abuse you. No, I don’t believe you mean that.”

  His hand slipped to her neck as he brought his mouth back to hers, and he kissed her again, with far more gentleness than he had ever kissed her before. Her heart constricted, and she pushed him away. “I want you to drink my blood,” she said.

  His eyebrows rose. “You know that I would have to change?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you want to see me like that?”

  “When you drink my blood, it does something to me.”

  His gaze met hers. “And me.”

  “Then do it. Drink my blood.”

  He stared at her another moment, then shook his head with a laugh. “You really are a strange one. You were definitely misnamed when they called you Lark. You should be named Falcon, or Kestrel. Maybe I’ll call you Peregrine from now on. Although Snow is spot on.” He lifted a strand of her hair and rubbed it between his fingers. “So fine and pale, and your eyes, they pierce me with ice. You really want me to change?”

  “Yes.”

  He turned and snatched a jar from a table beside the bed. Pulling the stopper out with his teeth, he brought it to his lips and swallowed a mouthful, then poured some into his hands and smeared it across his chest, over the silver dragon rings on each breast. His eyes were fixed on hers and her breath froze as his eyes began to change, turning olive-yellow. His skin was changing to gray as she stepped forward and touched his chest, placing her hands over the rings. They were slippery from the blood and he hissed.

  “Like thisss, princesss?”

  Her eyes were fixed on his lips, which were thin and dark. “Yes.”

  His tongue flicked the air, and he froze, his eyes narrowing. “You don’t want thisss.”

  “I do.”

  “You’re conflicted and confused. I can taste your regret.”

  “My only regret is that we cannot escape this place and be free of everything.”

  “No, it’sss much more than that. Don’t lie to me, princessss.”

  He stepped back, and her chest tightened. Get away, she wanted to scream. She met his gaze, and lifting her hand to her blouse, slowly began to unfasten the buttons. His eyes slipped to her chest, widening as she opened the blouse and bared herself to him. His gaze flew back to hers. “What are you doing?”

  “Taste my blood, mighty warrior,” she said.

  He hesitated, his forked tongue tasting the air, and then his hands were on her hips, lifting her up against the wall. He ran his tongue over her breast, then sealed his lips over her. Her hands flew to his head, clinging to him as she wrapped her legs around his waist. His mouth lifted and he turned, taking her with him, almost flinging her to the bed as he crawled over her and applied attention to her other breast. She lifted herself up to him, then gasped when his fangs slid into her tender flesh. A tremor wracked her and she gripped him tightly as he sucked, drawing her blood into his mouth. He groaned, then slipped back to her other breast and bit her again. This time she cried out, and his grip on her tightened. He pulled out his fangs and his tongue slipped over her breast, then up her neck and along her jawline to her mouth, and he kissed her deeply once more as she wrapped her legs around him. He ran his hand over her thigh, then down her leg, where it paused. He raised his head and looked at her, pulling out the thin blade given to her by the Ancient.

  “What’s this, princess?” His features were already returning to normal, his eyes black.

  “It’s a knife, Kalen.”

  “I’m not Kalen. He no longer exists, remember. And why do you have a knife in your boot?”

  “Protection?” It came out as a question, and he raised an eyebrow.

  “It’s not one I gave you. And why do you need protection here?” He raised himself to look at her. “Why are you here, princess?”

  “You know why. I want you.”

  He cocked his head. “I believe you. But … there’s something else. You still want to kill me.”

  “No,” she whispered. “I don’t.”

  “Then why did you come here armed, princess?”

  She looked away as tears spilled down her cheeks. “I don’t want to kill you.”

  As he stared down at the blade, brows furrowed, she sneaked a glance at him, then drew in a ragged breath as the tattoos around his torso glimmered faintly. His eyes flew to hers. “What?”

  “I’m sorry,” she cried, grabbing the blade from his hand. She raised it as he launched at her, and they both tumbled to the floor. He landed beneath her and she raised the dagger into the air, but his hand shot out and caught hers, holding it away. He might have lost his warrior strength, but he still had the strength of a strong man. She stared at him, their gazes clashing.

  “I misjudged how much you hate me,” he said.

  “I don’t hate you.”

  “Then why do you want to kill me? You have no hope of escaping, even with me gone.”

  She looked away, and her hand went slack. He dropped his and began to raise himself on his elbows, but she quickly raised the blade and without hesitation, skewered it into his chest.

  His eyes widened as he looked down at the handle protruding from his skin. With a groan, he lay back on the floo
r as she pushed herself off him, the tears streaming down her cheeks. He lay there for a moment, his eyes open, then turned to look at her. His eyes were flinty, his jaw set; he might be dying, but she could feel his rage fill the room.

  “I have told you before, princess, you cannot escape me,” he rasped. A trickle of blood escaped the corner of his mouth, and he lifted his chest from the floor as he heaved a breath. His body slumped, and she saw the light go from his eyes as a sob tore from her throat. She crawled over to him and ran her hand over his face, wiping away the trickle of blood and closing his eyes. The dragon tattoo gleamed brightly for a moment, then dimmed and turned dull.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I had no choice. It was your life or Pip’s, and I had to choose his.” She brought her lips to his and kissed him, then scooched back to the wall and buried her face in her hands.

  The sound of footsteps outside the door had her pushing herself up against the wall to her feet, and quickly fastening the buttons of the blouse and straightening the ribbon in her hair. She could not bear to look at the Drameara for another moment. She turned and stumbled towards the door, but as she reached it, she glanced back once more. The dagger was still buried in his chest, and with a sob, she stumbled forward and yanked it out. She stared at it for a moment, not knowing what she should do with the weapon, but when the footsteps stopped outside the room, she shoved the dagger back into her boot as the door opened. The man who had brought her to the room stepped inside, his eyes going to the dead Drameara. He grabbed her by the hand and dragged her from the room.

  “Take me to the Ancient,” she said.

  “The Ancient does not want to see you.”

  “I have done as she said, and now she must set my brother free.”

  “What do you mean? You have killed one of her finest Warriors.” He began marching her down the tunnel.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “You want to see your brother? You can join him in his cell.”

  “But she gave me her word –”

  “That she would not kill him. But you are a murderer, and you’ll both be punished for your deeds.”

  “Let me go,” she cried, struggling to free herself from his grasp, but his grip was too strong, and he dragged her along the tunnel without pausing. He turned a corner and came to a stop outside a wooden door. The man quickly unlocked a sliding bolt and pushed her inside, slamming the door closed behind her and sliding the lock into place as she stumbled to the ground.

  “Lark!” Pip fell to the ground beside her, studying her face. “Are you alright?”

  “Pip, what are we to do?” A wave of despair washed over her. “I’ve just killed the one person who might have actually helped us!”

  “Lark, it’s not –”

  “Oh, Pip, it was terrible! The way he looked at me!” She pulled her legs to her chest and buried her face in her knees as the tears streamed down her face. Pip sat down beside her and awkwardly put his arm around her shoulder. “And now she’s thrown me in this prison, and the guard says that we are both to stay here, and she’ll probably make us drink her blood, because that’s what she was going to do, and then we’ll be bound to her forever, always needing her blood, and she’ll try and force us to fight our own people, and –”

  “Lark, stop!”

  She drew in a shuddering breath and raised her eyes to meet his. “Pip, you don’t understand –”

  “No, Lark, you don’t understand! I’ve been in here for days already! Do you really think I haven’t worked out a way to escape?”

  She frowned. “Escape?”

  “I never for one moment believed that she’d just let us walk out of here.”

  She stared at him. “You know how we can get out?”

  “Well, out of this cell, at any rate.”

  “Oh, Pip.” The tears started flowing once more as he looked at her in consternation.

  “Why are you crying now?”

  She gave a shaky laugh. “No good reason. Now tell me, how are we going to get out of here?”

  He smiled. “Simple, really. We’re going to walk out the door.”

  She frowned. “How?”

  “By sliding open the bolt, silly.” She lifted an eyebrow, and he grinned. “Look, the door is made of planks that have been fitted together, see?” She turned to study the door. “The planks are old and don’t fit together so well anymore, which means that there are a few gaps. While I was waiting for you to show up, I made this!” He walked to the wall and picked up a length of thin strips of wood, held together with string. “We feed it through the hole, into the bolt, and slide it open!”

  She looked at it dubiously. “And does it work?”

  “Well, I haven’t tried it yet, but I am absolutely convinced that it will.”

  She sighed. “Well, at least we can give it a try.”

  “Try?” he scoffed. “Have a little faith, Lark.”

  Chapter 30

  “Have a little faith,” she muttered a few hours later. Pip was sitting against the wall, frowning in frustration.

  “It just needs to be a little stronger,” he said.

  “Well, it’s not!”

  “If only I could get a piece of wire.”

  “Well, you can’t!”

  “If we just had something heavy, we could break down the door!”

  “We don’t!”

  “Or an axe, or a knife –”

  “Pip!” she groaned. She drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, then froze. “Wait, did you say a knife?”

  “Yes. The wood is so rotten, we could probably cut a hole in it.”

  “Will this do?” she asked, withdrawing the blade from her boot. It was still stained with the Drameara’s blood. As she stared at it, Pip snatched the blade from her hand.

  “Yes!” he said. “How do you come to have it?”

  “I … never mind. Will it work?”

  “Yes, I think so!” He put the tip of the blade against the wood and began to twist and turn it. A splinter of wood flew off, landing near Lark. “It’s working!” he said excitedly.

  A few hours, numerous splinters, and much frustration later there was a hole in the door, large enough for Lark to push her hand through. It took some maneuvering to reach the latch, and more careful manipulation to lift it and open the door. Her heart pounded furiously as each moment she expected to hear a shout of discovery, but the latch finally slid back and the door swung open. Thrusting the knife back into her boot, she stepped out of the cell and into the tunnel with Pip a step behind her.

  “Which way?” he demanded in a whisper.

  “I have no idea.” She glanced up and down the tunnel, hoping to get her bearings, but it looked like every other tunnel she had walked through. She tried to remember which way the guard had brought her, and after a moment, she gestured for Pip to follow as she headed down the tunnel. It intersected another and she stopped.

  “We need to find the women’s quarters,” she whispered to Pip. “Let’s go this way.”

  They slid into the intersecting tunnel and hugged the wall as they hurried along. When the sound of heavy footsteps reached them a moment later, though, they scurried back to the previous tunnel.

  “We could be trapped here forever,” Pip said as the footsteps faded away.

  Lark shook her head. “No, we’ve made it this far. Let’s go.” Without waiting for a reply, she stepped back into the tunnel and hurried as fast as she could down its length. They reached another intersecting tunnel, and she pulled Pip into it, leaning against the wall to slow her racing pulse. The tunnel was unlit and stretched into utter darkness, and she gave a little shudder. She was about to step back into the main tunnel when Pip grabbed her arm.

  “Wait,” he breathed, and she froze when she heard the sound of approaching footsteps. They were not heavy, and she leaned back as Cenoa walked past. She waited as the footsteps faded, then grabbed Pip’s
hand.

  “This way,” she whispered, hurrying in the direction Cenoa had taken. They reached another intersection and Lark paused, but Pip pulled her to the right and she followed until they reached yet another junction. This time Lark took the left fork without hesitation, and before long, she saw wooden doors inset into the tunnel walls, and at the far end of the tunnel, a glimmer of light from the pools where Lark had bathed only a few hours before.

  “This is it,” she whispered.

  “What?”

  “The women’s quarters. We need to look for an unlit tunnel.”

  “Which side?”

  “This side. No wait, that side.” Tunnels and doors lined each wall, and she looked around in consternation. “I don’t remember!”

  Pip pointed to a dark patch a short distance way. “There!”

  She sent him a grin as a wave of relief washed over her, and she began to run. As a door behind her opened, a voice brought her to a stop.

  “Star? Is that you?”

  She spun around to see Cenoa, her gaze darting between her and Pip. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What’s going on?”

  “Please, Cenoa, just –”

  “Who’s this?”

  Lark shot Pip a look, her eyes meeting his fleetingly, then turned and began to race to the tunnel. Pip was on her heels, but it only took Cenoa a moment to dart after them. She caught Lark as she turned the corner into the tunnel, and they both tumbled to the ground.

  “Please, Cenoa,” Lark pleaded, rising to her feet to face the petite woman, “I don’t want to fight you, but we have to get away.”

  “Why? What have you done? Why aren’t you with the Warrior?” She glanced at Pip suspiciously. “And who’s he?”

  “We don’t have time for this, Lark,” Pip said. “We need to move now.”

  Cenoa frowned. “Your name’s Lark? You said it was Star. But why …?” She trailed off as her eyes widened. “You’re the commander’s daughter!” She spun around to look at Pip. “And you must be a Guardsman!”

  “No, I –” Pip began, but Cenoa was already flying through the air; she wrapped her arms around his waist and tackled him to the ground, pummeling him with her fists. He brought his hands to his face as Lark rushed forward and, grabbing her shoulders, pulled Cenoa off her brother. She had barely straightened, however, when Cenoa turned on her and grabbed her around the ankles, causing her to go sprawling on the ground.