“What do you mean?” Her anger made up for Rhael’s lack of it. He crouched beside her, smiling as if nothing had changed since he had kissed her on the boulder. She heard his heart pounding. Whatever he had done to Channon had weakened him, but he was hiding it.
“There are places worse than death. The Mouth of Hell, for example. There now, let me see your ankle.”
She cringed, but the splintering pain would not permit her to fight his touch.
“Don’t,” she whispered with as much authority as she could muster, which was not much. She could not leave Rhael's statement alone. Was it possible Channon was still alive? The Overlords of Maenor were said to posses dark powers beyond imagining. Had the monster kneeling before her sent Channon to a land she had believed only existed in nightmares? After the kiss and her vision, she feared the line between nightmares and reality may not be so clear after all.
Rhael raised a questioning brow. “Once I heal you, it would be wise to put the claws away, she-wolf. I’m the only one who can bring your friend back. Kill me, and you’ve lost him forever. Understand?” His eyes blazed gold once more, as if the amber seeped through the coal that ringed it. The pain dissipated in her ankle, and he lifted her to her feet.
“Better now?” He performed the same spell on his injured face. Her claw marks sealed over without trace of a scar.
Rayna steadied herself. It was as though her ankle had never been broken. “Bring him back now, or I swear I’ll—”
He laughed as he brushed leaves from cloak. “Still threatening me? You Fenearens are thick, aren’t you?” He stepped forward, crushing his hand over her throat, shoving her against the maple’s trunk. “Hurt me, in fact do anything more to displease me, and I will make sure you never see him again. Tell me, what is the boy worth to you?”
Rayna’s heart pounded against her ribs. What was Channon worth? There were not enough words to explain his worth.
“Everything,” Rayna managed, despite the Overlord’s crushing hold.
He released her. “Everything,” he repeated. “Worth more than your life, your happiness, your pride?”
“I’d do anything for him.”
“Good,” said Rhael with a vile grin, “I was hoping as much.”
Rayna wished she could melt into the tree's branches, be a part of her forest forever, yet stop feeling the pain and fear poisoning her heart. “Please,” she met Rhael’s cruel stare, “just tell me what you want.”
“You’re already betrothed to me. What more do you think I want?”
Rayna dropped to her knees, hoping the tactic would work on Rhael's ego. “My lord, I’m begging you. Please, bring him back. He is my friend. Please.”
“Better, better.” He whistled through his teeth, as if calling a dog to heel. “If you remain this docile, I will reverse the spell after the wedding. But you must say nothing of what happened to your friend. As far as your packmates know, he accompanied you to Anhorde as promised. Do you understand?”
“Yes. Are we to leave now, my lord?” she asked. Her voice was even, but her thoughts screamed. She was weak. A sniveling pup. What would her parents have thought? Or Bayne and Silver? If losing her pride regained Channon, then she had no choice, not until she could figure out a way to help him.
“Soon.” He pulled her to her feet. “But first, you must make your goodbyes. Channon, of course, will have already gone on ahead to scout our night's stay. Remember, if your uncle or anyone else suspects second thoughts about our agreement, I will leave your friend to eternally rot. Understand?”
Rayna nodded and closed her eyes as Rhael wrapped his arm around her waist, resting his chin on her head.
Chapter Eight
Another morning, Rayna may have noticed the clear, cloudless sky. She may have appreciated the unseasonable warmth or wondered how her fellow packmates had fared on their predawn hunts.
Not this morning. Everything around her was a grayish blur. Her packmates who passed by offered their best wishes, some more convincingly than others. The Maenorens bowed to her as well as to their lord, but all of them seemed more shadows than people. Rayna had not realized where Rhael led her until she stood before her own den. A moment later, Bayne and Silver appeared on the threshold. Rhael released her from his hold, and it was all she could do to stay on her feet.
“There you are!” Silver rushed forward and pulled her into an embrace. “For a moment I thought you had left without saying goodbye.” Rayna buried her head in her aunt’s silver-blonde hair, transported to a night twelve winters before when Silver had carried her to safety. There was nothing her aunt could do for her now.
Bayne joined them. “Rayna, write often. If you need us, or want to come home, you need only ask. Fenear is behind you, no matter what.”
Unease glimmered in Bayne’s black eyes. Shame choked Rayna as she thought of Bayne's attempts to sway her mind. She'd ignored his counsel, just as she had Silver's and Channon's. She could warn Bayne now, but behind him, Rhael gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Rayna cleared her throat and fought for calm. Perhaps together they could defeat Rhael, but then Channon would be lost forever.
“I'll write and I know. You don't have to worry.” The lies came easily. It nauseated her to lie to her uncle, especially at Rhael’s urging.
But she was going to Maenor for Channon, not Rhael.
Rhael spoke. “Alpha Bayne, you are welcome to visit my palace at Anhorde as soon as Rayna is settled and preparations are underway.”
“We will,” said Bayne. He turned to Rayna. “Where’s Channon? I was hoping to speak to him again before you left.”
“He went on ahead,” she said. “He told me to give you his best and that he would return soon.” Rhael could have lied about his ability to bring Channon back. But if there was a chance that she could save him, she would do whatever it took. Even if it made her feel like her insides had been scooped out and she had been filled with ice instead.
Bayne and Silver exchanged glances. “All right,” said Silver. “I’ve packed your clothes and a few necessities, but you'll be able to come back soon for anything else. Lord Rhael, would you mind retrieving Rayna’s bag from her den?”
Rhael disappeared behind the leather walls, and Silver whispered, “I’ve packed several bottles of your tonic. Thera will send more when you need it.” Rayna nodded, but in truth she was beginning to think the sleeping potion useless. What was the point of avoiding nightmares while sleeping if you lived one while awake?
“Rayna,” Bayne wrapped his arms around both her and Silver, “stay close to Channon. You’re strongest when you’re together.”
A tear formed, dripping from her lashes onto Bayne’s arm.
He tensed. “It’s not too late, Rayna. You can change your mind.”
She shook her head. “No, I—it's just that I’m going to miss you.”
Bayne released them and looked over his shoulder. Rhael would be back any moment. “Then remember, this alliance is new. We can’t blindly trust Rhael or any of the Maenorens. Be careful. If you get any whiff that something is wrong, you get out, understand?”
Before Rayna could respond, Rhael returned carrying the leather sack Silver had packed. “We'd best be off, Rayna. We don’t want Mr. Lyallt getting too far ahead of us, do we?”
“Of course,” Rayna said in a stiff voice she did not recognize. She took the bag from Rhael and turned back to her aunt and uncle. “Tell Roxen and Thera I said goodbye, and Gar too. Tell them I’ll see them soon.”
“We will.” Silver squeezed Rayna’s hand.
Bayne kissed her on the forehead, his rough hand cradling her cheek. “I would tell you to be strong and brave. But you’re already too much of that, aren’t you?” He smiled, and lines she had never noticed crinkled around his dark eyes. “Remember that you’re allowed to be weak sometimes, too. You’re allowed to be scared. There’s no shame in that. But whenever you are, remember that you are not alone. The pack is with you always. I am with you alway
s.”
After one last embrace, Rayna turned away from Bayne and Silver, not knowing if she would ever see them again. She closed her eyes against the pain and guilt, and let Rhael lead her through the woods to join the rest of his people.
When Rayna's nose told her they had reached the Maenoren convoy, she opened her eyes. They were north of the Densite, gathered on a path leading through Fenear and eventually to Maenor. It was a narrow dirt trail, intended for quick-footed Fenearens and Trues, not the Maenorens with their impractical clothing and burdensome trunks and litters. Various attendants rushed to arrange themselves in rows as Rhael and Rayna arrived. Each hastily bowed while four heavily muscled men lowered a black litter to the ground.
Rhael’s hand pressed on Rayna's lower back. As she walked forward to the dark seclusion of the canopied litter, she cast one last look at the woods she knew so well. White-tailed deer favored this part of the forest. It was easy to see that in the sparse, overeaten ground cover. Hawks, too, made regular appearances here, perched high in the oaks and elms, waiting for the tremors that signaled the presence of chipmunks or snakes. She and Channon had hunted here often, though she preferred the rolling hills and glens leading to the ocean south of the Densite.
As her gaze refocused on those surrounding her, one Maenoren caught her eye—the beautiful attendant with raven hair. The girl watched Rayna with an odd expression, her eyes narrowed, the ghost of a smile playing on her full lips. It was not curiosity or fear, but satisfaction.
She was imagining things. Rayna escaped the girl's stare and slipped behind the curtains. For one brief moment, she hoped Rhael would leave her alone for the journey, but her wish was short-lived as he crawled in after her.
The litter pitched as it raised, but Rayna ignored the uneasy sensation. She stared at her unbroken ankle, at the heavy purple blankets draped around them, at the linden wood bracelet still clasped around her wrist.
Rhael’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “You're very quiet. Perhaps you’re beginning to learn what your role as queen entails.”
Rayna said nothing. She stared at Rhael's neck, wondering how far the blood would spurt when she tore out his throat. Bayne's voice echoed in her mind. If he ever hurts you, you kill him.
“Don’t worry about being overheard. I have deafened the men carrying us.”
“Yes my lord,” she whispered. Her gaze dropped to his chest. Perhaps she would go for his heart. He would have to be dead first, or immobilized; breaking through ribs took time. But he had shattered her heart when he'd hurt Channon. Once she regained Channon, it would only be fair to return the favor.
“Look at me,” Rhael said. Rayna obeyed. “I will explain. This must be confusing for you, I am sure.” He moved closer to her, his hand brushing her knee. She flinched away, and to her surprise, Rhael removed his touch.
“You see, I am the Overlord. You are my queen. Although you are above my other subjects, you are my subject. You live to serve and please me. But do not fear, I have no intention of forcing myself on you. I have little interest in savages. This is a political union. We will do what is required of us, nothing more. Do you understand?”
“Yes my lord.” Relief warred with her confusion. Rhael had certainly seemed interested in her when he'd kissed her—had that too been an act?
“We must of course keep up appearances. Which means you must learn civility. Anhorde is not a hall of dirt and furs.”
“Yes.” Her tongue tripped over the word. Playing nice was going to be more difficult than she thought.
“There now. Very good.”
She saw the hidden emotion again in his gold and black gaze, a glimpse into something powerful and overwhelming. He seemed almost uncomfortable as they sat in silence. The Overlord looked lost in thought. Any attempts to woo her had vanished, almost as though he did not wish her to be there anymore than she did, but that was lunacy. He had chosen her. Why would he marry her if he did not want her? Why had he fought so hard to keep her when she had attempted to break off their agreement?
Curiosity overwhelmed her, and she tried to find answers. “My lord, may I ask a question?” The Overlord waved for her to continue without looking at her. “Why me? I understand you wanted to marry a Fenearen to strengthen our alliance, but is it worth it if our savagery disgusts you? Don't you wish to love the person you wed?”
Rhael burst into vile laughter. “Razorn's blood! You are naïve, aren't you? I don't have the luxury of marrying for love. Besides, why would I want to love someone who might bear my children?”
“What could you mean by that?”
“Please. You’ve no doubt heard the stories of my family's tradition.”
Rayna hesitated. Many rumors surrounded the Maenoren Overlords, but she did not know which ones were true. “I've heard stories, but...”
“Stories.” Rhael flexed his fist. “They are far more than stories. You have heard of the Cult of Demetrian?”
The blood drained from Rayna's face. Disgust for the man before her deepened, though she had not thought it possible. Winters before, her packmate Kiera had told her and Channon a rumor circulating through the Northern Densite—that the Overlords of Maenor gained their powers through the blood sacrifice of their own family members, that the Overlord’s sons were raised by a secret order known as the Cult of Demetrian, kept isolated until the day their father died. They would then be pitted against one another until only one was left. She and Channon had both laughed off the tale as nothing more than a scary story, then. They had been wrong. “You murdered your own brothers?” she asked.
“Some killed each other before I got to them, but the end result is the same. The same will happen to my children. I warn you, considering that I’ve already fathered seven on courtesans, I would not grow attached to any babes you might have. You would not be permitted to raise them, anyway. Queen Mothers cannot enter the Cult of Demetrian and raise our heirs, only courtesans and girls born into the line.”
Tears pricked Rayna's eyes as she tried to get as far from Rhael as the litter would allow. “How could you? How could you allow that to happen to your own children?”
A grin snaked across Rhael's face. “It was the price I paid for power, and I would pay it again.”
Cool disgust crawled like spiders through her veins. But no matter how badly she wanted to escape, to make Rhael suffer for his terrible words and worse deeds, Channon’s wild, petrified gaze forced her to control her instincts.
“Where is he?” Rayna’s voice cracked, but gained more strength as she continued, “Please, Lord Rhael, where is Channon? What’s happening to him?”
“I told you. I banished him to the Mouth of Hell, the entrance to Razorn’s realm. I don’t know what’s happening to him, but I can promise you it is not pleasant. Stop asking questions, or I swear I will never release him.”
Rayna huddled in the corner and waited for the nightmarish journey to end. Channon was in the Mouth of Hell. He had somehow passed out of Osterna, the world she knew, the world she could see and hear and smell, to another place. Despite her belief in Wolnor, the founders, and the Great Forest, she had never really thought to consider their dark counterparts. She had never given Hell, demons, or Razorn, Lord of Shadows much thought. But she had seen the darkness that had stolen Channon. She had seen him disappear in a storm of black. As much as she wanted to believe Rhael was lying, that would not help Channon now. For the time being, all she could do was play Rhael’s game until he let down his guard and let something slip that would help her.
The rest of the day passed in silence. Rhael’s metallic scent burned her nostrils worse than ever, leaving them raw by the time the litter lurched to a halt.
“We’re stopping for the night. We have a few more days of travel until we reach Anhorde. When you consider running away, please remember your friend's fate is in my hands.”
Rayna wiped the tears from her eyes before the litter lowered to the ground and Rhael slipped out. With a deep and painful breath, Rayn
a followed. She did not even notice the Maenoren's bowing this time. Her gaze remained trained on Rhael’s back, imagining sinking her fangs into it.
It took a few moments to determine where they were. It was dark, so they had been traveling for most of the day with nothing more than short breaks, putting them about ten leagues north of her Densite. Maenorens were much slower than formed Fenearens. She could scent the Laureline river to the east, and the ground cover beside the trail was lush with ferns and moss.
As Rayna oriented herself, the brown-eyed attendant sidled up to Rhael. The woman was much shorter than he was, so she had to stand on tiptoes to whisper into his ear.
“Thank you, Morna.” He grinned at her as she touched his arm for a moment. “Seventh regiment!” he called as ten men gathered and bowed before him.
Rayna could not get used to the stealthy way Maenorens moved, treading in the shadows. Their dark clothing made it easy for them to seem invisible. It reminded Rayna of one of Thera's stories: Long ago, before Rhael’s ancestors had taken over, this power of stealth had been amplified into an ability as miraculous as her own. Maenorens had once held the power to melt into the shadows, disappearing from sight. Some whispered that Rhael’s family had taken the magic of all their people for themselves. Rayna wondered if that story were true, too.
“Center Guard.” One of the men stepped forward. He was tall, but unlike Rhael, wiry and thin. His dark blue eyes seemed out of place for a Maenoren. Along with his scruffy brown hair, freckled tan skin, and gently sloping features, he was a breath of fresh air in a sea of angular perfection. Despite his boyish looks, Rayna guessed he had at least thirty winters from the light wrinkles framing his odd blue eyes.
“Coer Vantergard, sir.” He brought his fists to his chest and back down in a Maenoren salute.
“Rayna, come here, please,” Rhael said, not turning around.
Rayna walked to Rhael’s side, her eyes on Coer. “Yes, my lord?” Rayna could imagine his satisfied smirk at her courteous greeting.
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