Lliandra was making him wait for her. How cute. She’d tried that with Valterys on several occasions, but he’d taught her the folly of her ways, denying her a release until she begged him. The levon ruffled its feathers at Valterys’ memory. Since sampling Marissa’s banquet of lust, his opinion of the empress had shifted. He no longer craved the satisfaction only she could give. Marissa had released him from his torment, had mended his shattered heart.
Valterys cursed and the levon pecked at the window with its hardened beak. Lliandra ignored the sound, but the young man turned his head. For an instant, his eyes met the levon’s and Valterys saw the sheer desperation etched into his features. His rhythm slowed as he returned his gaze to Lliandra. She said something that made him freeze mid-stroke and then pump harder than before.
Unwilling to witness the stud’s destruction, Valterys dove from the planter box to glide around the castle, aiming the levon for a window in the dungeon tower. It was little more than an arrow slit, but he tilted smoothly through the tight space. His claws scratched at the rock floor and he transformed into his manly form.
The image of the youth seared into his mind and anger welled inside his heart. Lliandra must be desperate to conceive another child. He’d heard the rumors at her court and seen it reflected in the stud’s fear. He wondered how many she’d killed because they couldn’t produce an heir. And she called him a monster.
Concealed in shadows, he took the stairs slowly, stopping often to listen for soldiers, but the dungeons were silent. When he reached the bottom floor, where he guessed they kept the Shadow Assassin, he crept along the wall, not wanting to stir the air. They would have him bound with ShantiMari and too much of the power would hamper his ability to maintain invisibility.
Voices from ahead echoed off the walls and he paused in his steps. The conversation was benign. Two soldiers discussed the changing of their shift, expecting to be relieved any moment. One was impatient to be off-duty as he had a girl waiting for him. Valterys smirked beneath his shadows. Women could rule the world if they just figured out how much men were under their control.
Certainly Marissa had subtly manipulated him into doing what she wanted. But he never did anything that he truly didn’t want to do. Perhaps that was her power—knowing what it was that men wanted, and then granting them their wish. His desire stirred and he forced his mind away from Marissa. The constant image of her, naked and calling his name, was dangerous. If he didn’t block his thoughts, surely Rykoto would pick out the memory as if it were a ripe sargot.
The night guard arrived and after several minutes of jovial teasing, the day guard left the dungeons. Valterys edged closer to the cells, staying as close to the wall as possible. Six guardsmen surrounded the assassin, with another two patrolling the area outside the cell. When he was close enough to see the Shadow Assassin, but not disturb the patrol, he stopped to study the man’s features.
Blond, dirty, thin, he hung from several shackles of ShantiMari. His black clothes, ripped in more than one place, were covered in dust. A dark spot on his left shoulder caught Valterys’ attention. If he didn’t know better, he’d think it was blood, but Shadow Spawn couldn’t bleed. Neither alive nor dead, they had no need of bodily functions.
A scuffle just outside the doorway leading to the dungeon steps Valterys had come down drew the attention of the guard. Valterys stepped farther into the shadows, never taking his eyes from the assassin.
A muffled shout, followed by a heavy thud, caused two of the guard to falter in their positions. “Stand,” another commanded. “Our charge is to guard the prisoner.” The soldiers returned to their positions, their hands grasping swords and maces.
Another thump and they stirred once more, but none of them moved from their space.
The door banged shut and heavy footfalls sounded on the floor. The guard murmured among themselves, asking one another what action they should take. A hooded figure entered the area and with raised hands, knocked out each guard in succession.
Valterys drew in a deep breath. That much power was rarely seen.
The stranger unlocked the cell with a snap of his fingers and set about untying the many strands of ShantiMari that held the prisoner. For nearly a bell, the hooded figure worked in silence. The assassin sagged against him when the last of the shackles were unlocked.
Valterys pressed flat to the wall, willing himself to become one with the hard surface. A cold breeze brushed past as the hooded figure darted up the corridor with the assassin over his shoulder. Ice-blue eyes glanced up and met Valterys’ gaze, looking right into his soul. The Lord of the Dark suppressed a shudder, but didn’t look away.
The assassin dropped his head, his blond hair flowing down the stranger’s cloak.
Valterys counted to one hundred before following. He took the stairs two at a time, struggling to keep his shadows intact while rushing to the top of the tower. At the door leading to the battlements, he paused. He’d have to open the door. Not knowing what awaited him caused a tremor of anxiety to ripple through him.
He gathered the shadows tighter and opened the door slowly. Two guards lay unconscious and slumped against the wall. He hurried past them to the far end of the battlements, where another pair of guards was splayed on the ground. Of the hooded man, there was no sign. He glanced to the other side of the castle, where he saw several men patrolling. If the stranger did not go that way, then where?
His gaze lifted to the sky where he spied a single speck disappearing into the distance.
Within the space of a heartbeat, Valterys shook off his shadows and took on the form of a levon. He lifted into the air, beating his wings hard to catch an updraft, focusing his sights on the barely visible dot and flew as fast as the bird would allow. Several times, he thought he’d lost his prey, but would catch sight of him once more. His wings ached with the brutal pace. His chest heaved with labored breathing, but he continued on until the evening sky turned a dusky shade of crimson and he lost the hooded man to darkness.
He screeched into the sky, the levon’s cry echoing to the clouds.
Taking stock of his surroundings, he turned toward the west, but not Caer Idris. At the Spine of Ohlin, he banked north. His levon’s eyes scanned the land for a suitable offering and Valterys dove with frightening speed toward a young maiden alone in a field. Without any warning, he transformed into a man and plunged a dagger into her heart. He covered her mouth with his, absorbing the scream. Her struggle lasted only a minute until she fell limp into his arms.
She would make his flight longer, but he dared not visit Rykoto without a proper meal.
He touched down on the snowy ground and shifted into a man, adjusting the dead girl as he did. Her blood stained his clothing in a long line of crimson. It reminded him of Rykoto’s lips and he smiled. His god would be pleased with the offering.
Once Rykoto had feasted, he turned his fire eyes on Valterys. He held himself still, thinking of the hooded man and the assassin, not Marissa.
“You have something to say?” Rykoto drawled the words, pulling them from the air, and Valterys shuddered. He wasn’t sure exactly how far into his soul his god would delve.
“The Shadow Assassin—I have seen him. Do you know who controls him?”
A hiss came from the flames and Rykoto’s image flickered to nothingness.
“My lord?” Valterys begged, “Please. I need to know who hunts my daughter. If he is successful, it won’t bode well for any of us. As you well know.” Valterys regretted the last as soon as the words were said.
Heat seared his face and bare forearms. “Yes, as I well know. And, my son, there is much else I know. You share the bed of my queen. She carries a son in her womb. My brother seeks vengeance against me. My lover guides the one who is sent to destroy me. Is there no one I can trust? No one who will honor me as I am meant to be honored?”
The shaking in his legs reached Valterys’ throat and his voice trembled. “I honor you, Great Lord. Yes, I have shared your queen’s
bed. That doesn’t mean we do not honor you. Quite the opposite.”
The image returned, Rykoto’s weary eyes capturing Valterys in his lie.
“Our goal has only ever been your freedom. From this we will not waver. Allow us our comforts with each other until you claim your queen. She is yours, my lord, as ever she has been. What can I do to prove my honor?”
Rykoto sucked in a breath and a blast of cool air from outside the temple swirled around Valterys. “Bring me the blood and the blade of the one they call the Eirielle by mid-summer. Fail me, and I will devour not just you, but your son and my queen, leaving your throne without an heir.”
“As you wish, it will be done.”
Valterys fled the temple, cursing his lack of willpower. The tryst with Marissa had been foolish and had angered their god, forcing an impossible timeline. He flew blind, his thoughts whirling with plans. Rykoto needed Taryn by mid-summer, four moonturns hence.
Impossible.
Somehow, he had to make it possible. His life depended on it.
Valterys blinked at the sight of moonlight glancing off the ocean. It wasn’t the Western Sea before him, but the Summer Seas. He’d returned to Talaith.
Marissa.
The gods help him, but he loved her. Had probably loved her far longer than he’d ever realized. Marissa used people to get what she wanted, he knew, and her ultimate goal was immortality. If he could give her what Rykoto had promised, she’d be his for all time. To do that, he needed Taryn. Needed her powers to be fully realized. He’d give her the training Zakael had withheld, and in the process he would take from her as much as Rykoto would tolerate.
The god needed her blood and her blade to be restored. Valterys needed her power to overthrow the god.
It was a brilliant plan.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Hushed voices brought Taryn from the darkness. She recognized Carga’s gentle tone and small hands massaged her limbs. When she tried to move, her leaden body resisted. Her mind drifted in and out of shadow, where there was no movement. The faces of those who came before her mingled with those who were yet to be. She drifted in a sea of in-between.
She stood on the edge of a great precipice. Beyond her toes lay a bright vastness of empty space. Above her, only darkness. The land was barren of all living things. Tears burned her cheeks. She had caused the destruction, she was certain of it. How and why she didn’t know, only that the destruction was done by her hand.
An immense sadness fell upon her.
She leaned out into the nothingness and let herself fall. Down, down, she went until the ground rushed up to meet her. This would be the end of all her troubles. She welcomed death. She took it into her breast to nurture it. Death didn’t frighten her—in it she would be free. The thick air choked her lungs until she couldn’t open her mouth to breathe. Wind swept her hair and gown away from her, taut against her skin, tangling in the chaotic air above her rapidly descending form. Soon. It would be over soon. No more responsibility. No more worry or cares. No fear. Of the darkness. Of the light. Of herself.
A thought.
A face, and eyes the color of summer moss. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end.
“No,” she said aloud.
Her fall stopped. Taryn hung in the air, shreds of her tattered gown spinning against a breeze. Her silver hair settled and then drifted again in every direction. In the harsh light, her Glamour glittered like tiny silver sequins against her skin.
A memory.
Long lost yet recovered in the depths of her soul. With a slight shake, she became a great beast with silver scales and long, sharp claws. Immense leathery wings beat hard against the hot air. She flew into the darkness, spewing flames from her fanged snout. An exquisite thrill ran through her, delighting her senses. Sights were sharper, sounds clearer. She’d found her freedom.
“Darennsai, cara del tienden. Come back to us, Taryn. You have much left to do.” Carga’s voice beckoned from beyond the veil of Taryn’s weightless void.
She called out to her friend, “I am here!” But no sound came from her lips.
There is yet time. Dream, still. When you awaken, there is much to be done. For now, rest, little one. Daknys’ soft voice echoed in Taryn’s mind. Dream, my beloved daughter.
Taryn returned to the warmth and comfort of her living death. There was yet time. She need not hurry.
The touch of Kaida’s fur brought her once more from the darkness.
“Hey, fur ball,” she said to the grierbas, wincing at the burn in her throat. “What are you doing here?”
Your pack mates are concerned for you. Kaida snuggled beside Taryn’s fevered body. As am I. She whimpered and laid her face next to Taryn’s.
What happened to me?
The tree-things do not know. They feared you would move beyond the veils.
How long have I been asleep?
What is time to a grierbas? Kaida growled.
Taryn suppressed a laugh. The effort hurt, and she closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around Kaida.
Thank you for watching over me, my friend. Tell them I will return, but I need a little more rest.
The next time she woke, it was to complete darkness. Outside her curtained windows, trees howled from a fierce wind. She stared up at the ceiling for quite some time before finding the courage to pull herself to an upright position.
At her movement, Illanr jumped up excitedly. “Darennsai, you are awake!” She ran from the room, returning moments later with Carga. “Look, Great Lady.” Illanr put a hand to Taryn’s forehead. “Her fever is gone.”
Several drossfire-filled sconces flared to life and Taryn blinked against their brightness. Carga pressed her fingertips to Taryn’s temples, sending ShantiMari flowing through her body. “Welcome back, my sister.” Her face was drawn, with a new tightness around her eyes.
“How long was I gone?” Taryn took small sips of the water Illanr handed her.
“Several weeks. I was afraid we were going to lose you.”
Taryn rubbed her head. “I had the most peculiar dreams.” Then, remembering, she asked, “Rhoane? Is he well?”
“He was only gone a few days.” She pushed aside matted hair from Taryn’s forehead. “He came to see you every day. He is very worried about you. As are we all.”
“I think I would like to get up.”
“In time. First, you need to eat. Your body will be weak from lack of nourishment.”
“I need a bath.” She ran a hand through her dingy hair.
“I will have Illanr and Carld prepare one for you after you eat.” She stood to go. “I must inform His Majesty you have returned. He has been quite vexed with your situation.”
“Really?” Taryn was surprised. “I did not think he liked me.”
“We Eleri are reserved in our emotions, but do not mistake that for uncaring.” She left the room and Taryn laid her head on the pillow. Tiny green shoots grew out of the four posters of her bed, each with a small leaf attached.
With the morning sun came a parade of visitors, all eager to see to her well-being. When King Stephan entered carrying a bouquet of wildflowers, he blushed when Taryn asked where they came from, confessing he’d picked them that morning. Tears stung her eyes at his simple kindness. Eoghan and Bressal stayed almost as long as the king until Carga shooed them out, and they finally left.
When the room was quiet, Taryn asked in a small voice, “Why has Rhoane not come to see me?”
“He had some business to attend to today.” Carga would not meet Taryn’s look.
“Do not lie to me.” Taryn’s anger pulsed in her throat. “What has happened to him?”
Carga took a long breath, and smoothed her hair from her face before giving Taryn an even stare. “Rhoane is purified, but he is still broken. There is a darkness in him that has taken hold. He either cannot or will not remove it.” She sighed. “You were gone for so long. I am afraid he holds himself responsible.”
“Did he really come to s
ee me every day?”
“Yes, Taryn, he did.” Carga pulled a chair next to the bed. “You must regain your strength, Darennsai. You need to think about yourself now and how you can complete your tasks alone.”
Taryn searched her face. “You think he will not recover. The prophecy says—” she started, but Carga interrupted.
“Prophecies are there as guideposts, nothing more. They are not an exact plan. Only you can make your fortune or failure in this world.”
“I will not leave him.”
“You must. Aelinae is more important than just one man.”
“Not to me.”
“And that is why you will fail,” Carga said with disgust and left the room.
“Do you think I’ll fail?” Taryn asked Kaida.
The grierbas lifted her head to gaze at Taryn and yawned. What do I know about the fortunes of man?
“Apparently, about as much as me.”
IT TOOK another week before Taryn had the strength to leave the Weirren. While she lay in-between, memories resurfaced from all those months ago, including her secret meeting with the Eleri queen. She rode a gentle mare to the wall, not trusting herself on Niko just yet, and dismounted carefully. Her muscles ached from the unaccustomed actions of riding, having atrophied over the past month, but she had to see Aislinn.
The wall shimmered before her, a great expanse of ShantiMari that tugged at Taryn with irritating urgency.
“I knew you would seek me out, but it is still not time, mi carae.”
“Your First Son is broken and the purification has not healed him. Is there anything you can do to help?”
Aislinn was as lovely as the first time Taryn had met her, yet the sorrow in her eyes had doubled. “Alas, I cannot. Sometimes the greatest gift we can give a loved one is to do nothing.”
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