by Marie Harte
“True enough. And yet,” Arim paused, unable to put into words the feeling that wouldn’t go away. When he’d attacked Alandra, he’d felt her vast magic, had sensed something familiar about it. The woman was of Shadow, this he knew. But why would an Aellei fight to save Tanselm when her kind might have it at their fingertips?
He’d been to Aelle. Though beautiful and spacious and full of interesting areas where Light met Darkness, Aelle’s magic was nowhere near as powerful as Tanselm’s. Had he been in the queen’s position, he might very well have schemed for their land.
The Aellei drew much of their energy from Aelle, from its majesty as much as from its well of power. But drawing from Tanselm would be like exchanging moonlight for sunlight. Why then would Alandra willingly leave her world of beauty for a magicless plane of existence, what the Aellei would undoubtedly categorize as an unsightly world? And to baby-sit a dread Light Bringer, one of the Royal Four, no less?
His instincts were never wrong, almost never wrong, his conscience prodded as an image of Lexa intruded. Frowning the thought away, he focused on the here and now.
“Alandra has Aerolus’ heart and loyalty.” He weighed his decision. “Since your brother has never before failed us when we most needed him, I suppose we should support him by giving Alandra our loyalty as well.”
“Nicely said.” Marcus smiled.
“Not bad, for an old man,” Darius chimed in, grinning when Arim narrowed his eyes. Old man?
“I can’t say I’ve ever met a sorcerer who’s older,” Cadmus added from the hallway, staring without surprise at his brothers. “Well, well. Leave the door open and see what comes wandering in.”
Chapter Eleven
Darius and Marcus immediately stood, moving to greet Cadmus when Arim held up a hand, stilling them.
“Where have you been?” he asked quietly, aware something about his nephew seemed decidedly off.
“Just…around,” Cadmus drawled, staring at his brothers without a hint of welcome. His expression was strained, his eyes burning with what looked like malice. And the strange Dark aura that had possessed him for some time was gone.
Arim stared hard, then sent up an immediate shield over Darius and Marcus. “How did you get through?”
Cadmus shrugged. “Your boy’s been leaving holes big enough to jump through.” He smiled then, a direct look of hatred that made the hair on the back of Arim’s neck stand on end. “We’ve got the girl, you know. It’s almost over.”
“Son of a bitch,” Darius growled, fire flaming from his fingertips as he pointed them at Cadmus.
“An Aellei or Djinn?” Marcus asked calmly as he stared at the image of his brother, power vibrating off him in waves.
“Or neither,” another voice added from behind them. Strong winds surged through the room, surrounding Cadmus and pinning him in place.
Arim stared in surprise as the normally even-tempered Aerolus seethed with battle-lust. Dressed in dark trousers and a red tunic, signifying his status as a warring sorcerer, he looked wild, dangerous, and perilously close to losing control.
His grey eyes snapped with lightning, and his wind seethed through his hair and clothing, stirring Arim’s concern at the darkness of his power. For once the level-headed Wind Mage was angry—deeply, truly angry.
Alandra’s absence was most telling.
“Aerolus,” Marcus tried.
Aerolus walked around his brothers and glared at Cadmus. His stare intensified, running over Cadmus’ head to his feet, and he literally snarled. A staff suddenly appeared in his hands, and he shot a huge beam of Light into his brother.
Cadmus should have been fine, but as Arim suspected, the man posing as Cadmus squirmed in pain and tried to curl into a ball. Aerolus wouldn’t let him.
“Easy, Aerolus,” Arim said evenly, aware his nephew was as out of control as he’d ever seen him. “We need answers—”
“About where she is, and why he thought he could get away with it.” Aerolus murmured under his breath, and the imposter began to glow, so brightly they shielded their eyes. When next he appeared, he resembled one of the head servants from Tanselm’s western castle.
“Benold?” Darius stared in shock. “What the hell are you doing? You’re the traitor?”
“The Djinn traitor,” Aerolus said through clenched teeth. “He’s been with us for over thirty years, and in all that time he’s been waiting.”
“Yes, just burning for the chance to get even. The Light I’ve had to endure…” Benold clutched his abdomen and glared at them all, lingering on Aerolus. “Your girlfriend is the answer to everything.” He smiled despite the light leaking from his eyes. He had to be in considerable pain, yet he taunted Aerolus, as if wishing a quick death. “I can’t wait to see what Lidra does to her before the Dark Lord takes her. He’s going to fuck her until she screams. And then he’s going to cut her into little pieces, feeding them to the wraiths burning for her taste.”
“Aerolus, hold,” Arim said, knowing what was coming. Darius and Marcus sensed it as well, and even as they stepped closer, Aerolus forced them back with a firm wind.
“No, I’m not so naïve I can’t see what he wishes me to do.” Aerolus’ eyes burned, his gaze blinding with anger and with a strange violet glitter.
“Do you see that?” Marcus murmured.
“He’s tied to Alandra,” Darius answered. “Like Samantha was tied to me after our brush with the Wraith’s Kiss.”
Arim recalled the incident that had occurred months ago. After he’d cured Darius and Samantha of the Wraith’s Kiss, an insidious Netharat spell, Samantha had apparently wakened with red eyes, holding enough of Darius’ latent power to withstand his elemental fire. That in itself was a sure indicator of her future in Darius’ life.
To see Aerolus looking similarly fixed to his affai, Arim felt both pleased and dismayed that his nephew was so closely tied to Alandra. He only hoped Aerolus hadn’t found her only to lose her to the Dark. What that could do to a man didn’t bear thinking about, or reliving.
“Benold, I have time enough to make you suffer for your crimes,” Aerolus said quietly, the glowing fire raging from his mage staff disputing his calm. “But I won’t have my brothers overly disturbed by your presence. Tell me exactly where Alandra is and why the Dark Lord wants her specifically.”
Benold scoffed. “You’re going to kill me either way. Do what you will.”
Aerolus’ gaze narrowed, and Arim was suitably impressed at the hard warrior eyeing the enemy. This Aerolus would not bow to anyone or anything until he claimed his bride. And Dark Lords bedamned, they had done what Arim could never have hoped to with his training.
With one calculated move, they had turned Aerolus from a young sorcerer into a hardened mage unwilling to bend to anyone or anything.
Aerolus stared at Benold and threw down his staff. “Do what I will, hmm? I hope this hurts,” he growled and thrust a hand directly into Benold’s forehead.
Shadow shimmered around the connection between Aerolus and Benold, as their bodies seemed to have merged. Benold’s bloodcurdling shriek grew louder and harsher as Aerolus stood unmoving, staring firmly into his eyes.
“By the Light, that’s scary,” Darius said, staring unblinkingly at his brother.
“I knew he was powerful, but this goes beyond anything I’ve ever seen.” Marcus looked to Arim with concern.
“Watch.” Arim felt his worry and shared it, but he waited patiently, hoping Aerolus had more control than he seemed to possess.
A few ear-splitting moments later, Benold’s cries turned into desperate moans.
“You see, there is a huge difference between dying quickly and dying slowly. You, my friend, will continue to linger for days.” Aerolus refused to let Benold drop, and the sight of his fist in the man’s head caused Benold to begin pleading.
“You have what you need, now let me die already,” Benold begged.
Aerolus shook his head. “What you have done justifies no less than this.
And perhaps more.” Withdrawing his hand, he muttered a spell and traced symbols into the man’s flesh, on his head, chest and hands. “Enjoy the Light. And tell Oxcen I said hello.”
Shoving Benold hard, Aerolus caused the traitor to glow in truth, but instead of a Djinn’s normal fiery man-shape surrounded by black fire, this Djinn glowed like a burning moon. Bright Light pierced the creature throughout its body, and its aura was a sickening orange.
Then Benold cried out as he faded into nothingness.
“Where is he?” Darius asked and cleared his throat.
Arim stared hard at Aerolus, impressed and even awed at the talent pouring through his nephew in currents of Shadow and Light.
“He’s visiting Marcus’ Nocumat friend Oxcen, who just so happens to be sitting in the Aellei queen’s dungeon just now. It’s fortunate Benold knew where Oxcen was, or I wouldn’t have been able to send him there.”
“Very fitting,” Marcus said with a nod, satisfaction glinting in his gaze. “That will hurt worse than anything more you could have done.”
Aerolus smiled darkly, a grim reminder all was not yet right. “You think?”
“Scary, brother.” Darius shook his head. “But impressive. I like this new you.”
Aerolus stared at Darius and sighed. “You would.” His tone relieved Arim more than words could have. “Now I’m glad to see you all here, but we have a situation. Alandra’s in Aelle in the very place where they threatened to torture and kill her. And according to Benold’s perfect memory, B’alen and ‘Sin Garu are currently waiting with Lidra and her council to judge Alandra’s crimes against the crown.”
“Let’s go get her.” Marcus stepped forward, through the band of wind that faded into warm air.
“I’m with you. Let’s go.” Darius stepped forward, his eyes fiery with anticipation, flame curling around his hands.
“Not yet,” Cadmus said, appearing out of nowhere into the living room, gripping his head.
“Not this again.” Darius frowned.
“You have to get back to Tanselm,” Cadmus gasped, clenching his eyes shut as he leaned against the wall. “I’m not shitting you. This is all a big distraction. As we speak, the Netharat are planning an attack on…” he paused and sank to his knees.
Arim and Aerolus rushed to help him to the couch.
“So it is him,” Darius said with surprise. Marcus gave him a disgusted look and knelt by Cadmus’ feet near the couch. “Well, how the hell was I supposed to know?”
Marcus ignored him and gripped Cadmus’ hand. “It’s about time you showed up. Tell us where to go.”
“West,” Aerolus interrupted as he held his brother up on the couch. He turned to Darius. “Samantha’s on the southern wall of the castle with a squad of guards. They’re going to aim the attack there.”
“And Tessa’s going to be ambushed by two serving maids, Djinn sympathisers and trained assassins,” Cadmus said in a weak voice. “You need to find them before all this unfolds. I’m not sure how much time you have, so hurry.”
Arim stood and held out his hand, his palm open facing the wall. Two growing dark portals appeared as he chanted. “Darius on the left, Marcus on the right. Go, and summon the royal guard as well. That dozen can be trusted. Give warning to your mother. She’ll summon the other kingdoms.”
They nodded and ran. Darius disappeared, and Marcus turned quickly to ask, “What about you?”
“I have to help Aerolus first. Now Marcus, Tessa needs you. Go.” Before Arim could finish, Marcus vanished.
After they departed and the gateways to Tanselm closed, Arim turned to Aerolus. “We need to go to Aelle. I have a friend there who may be of some help.”
“Good, because if you don’t, I’ll kill the Aellei, one by one, until I get my affai back.” Aerolus spoke calmly, but the murderous lust in his voice was readily apparent.
“Damn, I’m gone for a little while and Aerolus turns into a bloodthirsty warmonger. What else did I miss?” Cadmus chuckled weakly, then groaned. A moment later, he stared at Aerolus in shock. “Did you say affai?”
“Yes, I did.” Aerolus stared at him before shaking his head, seeing something Arim couldn’t.
“What?” Cadmus sounded defensive.
“Nothing. Just be glad Arim is so pure of Light he can’t see what I now can.”
“Aerolus? Cadmus?” Arim stared at the two of them with growing irritation. It still baffled him that these two were so much more difficult to handle than their brothers. Darius was a hothead, Marcus an arrogant and dangerously crafty Storm Lord.
Aerolus, though powerful, was the quiet, obedient brother. And Cadmus used to be the light-hearted, comic relief. Why, then, was Arim having such a headache handling these two?
“I’ll deal with you later.” He scowled at Cadmus. Shaking his head, he stalked to the centre of the room. “Okay, then.” He grimaced. “I never thought I’d say this willingly, but let’s go to Aelle.”
* * * *
Alandra groaned and rubbed her temple, the familiar smell of white lily stirring her unease. As her awareness returned, she glanced down at her nudity and quickly fixed an illusion of Aellein garb, a flowing white dress, to cover her body.
Her head throbbed, but she felt for the most part unharmed. She prayed Aerolus was all right, not knowing what had happened to him after the nasty Djinn threw her at two Der warriors and disappeared.
Unfortunately, nothing she’d said had convinced the Der to release her or send for Sava. One minute she stood in Tanselm, the next the Der had her back in Aelle. They’d thrust her into this dingy dungeon, its only concession to Aellein standards that it was one level below ground, with a small barred window that allowed a hint of air and light through.
Throwing her so hard she’d hit her head, the Der had left her alone while she’d moaned for help before blacking out. And now she was left to face…this.
She glanced around her and noted the cleanliness of the place and the cool feel of rock beneath her body. She should have felt chilled, but the warmth outside made the cell surprisingly temperate.
The entire room was made of blue rystone, impervious to Mir charms and time stamping, from the walls to the floor and ceiling, to the hard bed and stone table and stools fixed to the floor.
Grimacing at the ache in her back and head, she sat up slowly and swung her feet to the ground, made even more conscious of her vulnerability by the bareness of her toes.
“Oh, good, she awakens.” A slick voice immediately froze her.
Glancing to the source, she paled, seeing ‘Sin Garu, the Dark Lord who’d almost killed Aerolus and his brothers not so long ago.
Unlike the diminished sorcerer she’d helped fling out of Seattle weeks ago, this sorcerer stood tall and straight, both pale and beautifully masculine. Long, blond hair, not as light as hers, but more a gold in colour, shone with good health. Damn it. His thin lips curled as he stared at her, making her feel like a deer in a hunter’s sights.
“How are you feeling, purie?” he asked, the copied nickname making her feel ill. “Oh, yes, I watched you with your Storm Lord lover, you delicious little creature.” His navy-blue eyes darkened to black as he neared and loomed over her. “For a petite female, you have the most remarkable figure. What wonderful breasts, and such a tiny waist.”
He licked his lips, and she stared, wondering if she’d see fangs like his brother had, praying she could escape this mess whole, without bite marks.
Seeing her attention, he smiled, showing sharp, white teeth. “Have no fear, Alandra. I’m not a blood drinker,” he said with disgust. “Their kind, frankly, sickens me.” His eyes burned, and she knew unrest existed between the Dark Lords.
Maybe she could use that to her advantage.
“Why are you here?” she asked in a polite voice.
“Such fine manners.” He chuckled and sat next to her on the hard bed. His knee brushed hers, and she was vividly reminded the dress she ‘wore’ was only an illusion.
“I’ve come because you matter, my dear. The magic within you is one of the keys to unlocking control of Tanselm. But of course, you knew this.” He eyed her shrewdly. “Were you hoping for a deal from B’alen? You must know he’ll take what he wants, regardless. I, on the other hand, am not so foolish to think I can control an Aellei possessing Storm Lord blood.”
She blinked, her heart racing, but remained composed. What, by Shadow’s heart, was he talking about? “No, you’re not a foolish lord. A bargain, perhaps?” She stared at him, wishing she were anywhere but here.
“You’re much more intelligent than your aunt gives you credit for.” He nodded with approval. “Then again, you can’t afford to be choosy in here, can you?” he asked with a perceptive grin.
She’d have to be careful. He was no one’s fool. “As you say, I have a limited venue of choices just now. What did you have in mind?”
He stared at her, his gaze roaming her body and making her feel as if he saw through the illusion. But he didn’t move closer to her, for which she was decidedly grateful.
“My brother will come to claim you soon. When he does, go along with him. He’ll try to drink your blood, but you mustn’t let him.”
She gave him a look that had him grinning, and for a moment she wondered at his sudden likeability.
“That was a stupid thing to say, wasn’t it?” He shook his head. “Look, Alandra, I know you’re fond of Aerolus. Truth be told, of all the Storm Lords, he’s the least offensive, in my opinion.
“You, my dear, can love him all you like. But in the end, you are of Shadow, and he’s not. Like me, you crave the Dark. And while we may not see eye to eye about Tanselm’s future, you at least agree that the Dark should be able to coexist with the Light.”
She nodded, wondering where he was going with this.
“Good.” He seemed pleased. “Then you, too, stand against B’alen, whether you want to or not. My older brother,” he sneered, “would have you believe he means to wed you and make you his queen. But he wishes only to drain you of your power and ascend Tanselm’s throne with Lidra by his side, under his thumb.