The Darkest Night

by Emma V. Leech

Inés paused in the doorway and looked back at him, a curious light in her eyes, and he wondered if he’d sounded too pleased by the idea. “Oui,” she said, watching him. “I'm coming, too."

  Jean-Pierre cleared his throat, uncomfortable under her scrutiny. "Does Bram know that?" he asked, hoping to turn her attention from him.

  She chuckled, a rather wicked, dark sound that made excitement flicker under his skin. "Not yet,” she said, raising one eyebrow. “What? Don't think he'll be pleased?" There was a sarcastic note to her voice, as they were both well aware he’d be far from pleased.

  "Not entirely," he mumbled, looking down into his coffee. “I think you frighten him.”

  "He's a sensible man," she said, with no trace of amusement before she disappeared into the bedroom. Jean-Pierre sighed, knowing he was being warned.

  "What if he won't let you come?" he called after her.

  He heard her laughter, soft and low and perfectly sure of itself. "Oh, don't fret,” she said, sounding as though she was smiling. “I think, by now, he'll be realising that he can't manage without me."

  ***

  Bram had been cleaning his gun at the kitchen table, much to Ameena's disgust. She didn't like firearms or weapons of any kind, she'd seen first-hand the damage they could do during a stint in A and E. Being close to them, even an antique like this one, made her nervous. She'd also seen that, antique or no, it was still quite capable of wreaking destruction.

  Ameena had tried to keep herself busy, but she didn't have anything to pack, as she'd hardly brought anything with her in the first place. She found she couldn't settle to anything with Bram’s large presence intruding on her thoughts whenever she turned around. She wondered if this was going to be the mistake to end all mistakes. Following his handsome face into a war zone had to be an error of epic proportions, surely? Yet, the thought of letting this intriguing, magical man out of her life without a fight… she couldn’t do it. Besides, she’d been truthful enough. She had nothing in her life here. Her parents didn’t seem interested in her any longer, and God knew she’d made a mess of everything else. Perhaps she could have a new start in Alfheim, even if Bram wasn’t a part of it?

  In the end, Ameena gave up trying to make out that she was occupied, and decided to use up some of the precious battery on her phone and listen to some music. It might be the last she’d hear for a while, she assumed. Bram had warned her that things were different in the Fae Lands, like going back in time. She’d gotten the feeling he didn’t really understand what this meant to her and was just reciting what Claudette had told him about their world. With a frown, she wondered what Claudette meant to him. There had been something in his voice when he’d spoken of her that made her believe she was something of a crush, at the very least.

  Sitting down on the mattress in her old room, she put on the headphones, closing her eyes with a sigh and getting lost in the music. There was a lull as one song ended and another began and she looked up, feeling she was being watched.

  Bram was standing in the doorway with a puzzled expression. "What are you doing?" he asked, head tilted to one side as he stared at her.

  “Listening to music.” Ameena laughed at his confusion, realising that he would never have seen or heard anything of the sort and gestured him over. He came and sat beside her and she popped the little ear buds carefully into his ears while he watched her suspiciously. She scrolled down the play-list and sniggered inwardly as she made her selection. She hit play and Linkin Park blasted out of the speakers. Bram jumped and ripped the ear phones out, scowling at her.

  "I thought you said you were listening to music?" he demanded, flinging the ear buds back at her.

  Ameena chuckled and nodded. "I was, I was.” She grinned at him and shrugged. “Sorry, that was mean, but I couldn't resist. Here, try this." Holding them out for him again, Bram continued to scowl at her, not taking them from her hand. "Oh, go on, I'll behave, I promise,” she said, laughing now.

  He sighed and took them from her again, putting them back in his ears. This time she was kind to him and found something soothing and watched his eyes widen as the music filled his head. He grinned at her, his dark brown eyes warm and as delicious as melted chocolate. She felt a flutter in her stomach and tried to squash it. Stop it. Stop it, she told herself. He’s out of your league. No matter what she told herself, however, as he closed his eyes, relaxing as the music worked its own magic, she couldn't help but look at him with longing.

  His long dark hair was matted and unkempt and the dark stubble that was such an irritation to him softened the strong line of his jaw, but even so, he was simply gorgeous. The gold earring glinted in the light of the candles she had lit and she looked in amusement at the many rings he now had on his hands. He had retrieved them earlier from a deep pocket in his coat. Apparently he’d removed them before he had got to the gate between their worlds as they interfered with his grip on a sword in a fight. The idea of him actually fighting, with a sword of all things, made a strange feeling uncurl inside of her. It was somewhere between terror for his safety and a heated flame of desire to see him stripped to the waist, skin gleaming, muscles working as he cut down some enemy figure. She took a deep breath, glancing over with relief to see he was still absorbed by the music, as she was certain she was blushing.

  He was such a strange mixture of contrasting elements that he fascinated her. On the one hand, he was clearly a flamboyant, rather theatrical figure. The fancy coat and lace shirt, the glittering rings … all of it made him seem like some Disney pirate come to life. Yet beneath that exterior, he seemed not only very down to earth, but really rather straight-laced. A bit of a prude, even. But if he really was lord something-or-other, which she was still struggling to accept, she’d have thought he’d have been rather more snooty, at least, not so willing to mix with the plebs. It was funny, really, how she could now believe he came from another race, another world entirely, but the idea that he was nobility just jarred with her.

  There was altogether something too earthy about him. His hands were rough and calloused, and there was just something about him that spoke of a man who spent a lot of time on his own, of being self-sufficient. She could more believe him a farmer with a penchant for velvet coats and frilly shirts than anything else. But then, she'd never met a lord before, so what did she know? Maybe nobility was different in his world, in any case?

  The song ended and he removed the earphones, handing them back to her.

  "Did you like it?" she asked, and he nodded, smiling at her.

  "It was lovely, thank you."

  His voice was warm and inviting, and the situation was suddenly far too intimate. The desire to lean over and kiss him was so great it was like an ache under her skin, begging her to move. Ameena looked away from those warm brown eyes with a shrug. "You’re welcome,” she said, standing up, needing to put some distance between them before she made a fool of herself. She didn’t need to add the humiliation of being rejected to her list of bad judgements. Not yet, at least, she’d work up to it.

  Bram gave her a curious look, which she ignored, and then he got to his feet and staggered. Ameena reached out, grabbing his arm to steady him, and he leaned into her for a moment. “Bram?” she exclaimed, staring at him in alarm as the colour had left his face in a rush, leaving him looking ill and strained. “Are you OK?”

  "I ... I don't know,” he said, shaking his head as though to clear it.

  "Is it your shoulder?" she asked, wondering if the bloody witch wasn’t all she was cracked up to be.

  "No,” he said, leaning against the wall now, and she noticed his hands were trembling. “No, I just feel ... exhausted."

  "Come on," she said, as she put her arm around his waist to support him. "Back to bed with you."

  He shook his head and groaned. "No. We must leave in the morning, we cannot delay any longer."

  "Well, then,” she said, putting on her no-nonsense nurse voice that was not one he wanted to argue with. “If you want any chance
of that, you'd best get some rest. I knew it was too soon for you to be up and around... Didn't I say?" she added, not about to miss the chance to gloat a little.

  He groaned again, glaring at her, though there was something in his eyes that made her believe he didn’t entirely dislike her scolding him. "Oh, save me the told-you-so speech, for the love of the gods! I felt fine."

  Ameena rolled her eyes at him. Heaven preserve her from men who thought they knew better. "And now you don't!" she snapped, shaking her head. "Look at you, you can barely put one foot in front of the other."

  She helped him back to the bedroom, both of them bickering and exchanging curses with every step, but moments after his head hit the pillow, Bram was asleep. Ameena smiled, admiring the long sweep of dark eyelashes and that full mouth. With a sigh, Ameena drew the covers up over him and bit her lip with anxiety. She hoped he really was well enough to leave tomorrow, because she really didn't fancy anyone's chances of stopping him, least of all hers.

  ***

  Corin woke with a pounding heart as he realised this was the morning he would take Aos Si. It was still dark, though he could feel the dawn edging closer. He willed his heart to calm, remembering the rush of power that had touched him when he had healed the village the day before. He'd first felt it when he'd stepped onto the Light Fae's territory, but the closer he got to Aos Si, the stronger it grew. Taking the city didn't concern him, he assured himself, but what was coming after, though ... That was different.

  He sighed and wished Claudette was here to wake up to; the lack of her tugged at his heart like a lead weight. For a moment, he allowed himself the fantasy of being at home in his own bed, her warm body curled beside him. But the taint of his surroundings encroached on the dream, not allowing it to continue. He could only be glad she wasn’t here in this filthy place, wasn’t here to witness what he would do today. He shuddered at the idea. His bones felt brittle and icy, the poisoned land leaching into his body and making him feel weary before he’d even begun.

  Dozing a little, he woke again a little later. The storm howled outside the tent, snapping the fabric over his head, and the air was icy cold. Corin took a deep breath, trying to hold onto the soft edges of sleep and burrowing into the warmth of the bed. He frowned as sleep eluded him and he began to wake properly. It was actually much warmer than before, warmer than he’d expected. He shifted slightly and realised he was being pinned down, a heavy weight resting over his shoulders. Reaching up, he discovered a huge and muscular arm draped over him. His eyebrows shot up as he realised that Laen had been colder than he'd let on, and had obviously gravitated to the nearest source of warmth in his sleep. With a snort of amusement, he was about to give Laen the shock of his life when a polite cough near the entrance of the tent stopped him from moving.

  Looking towards the cough, he discover that Dannon was standing holding a lantern and looking down at them both with what could only be described as a curious expression.

  Corin cursed inwardly, but he had never been one to care overly much for what people thought of him, especially not Dannon. He'd been the subject of gossip for too many years to get ruffled by it, and so his reaction whenever he was caught in a compromising situation was simply to brazen it out. Corin could well imagine how this looked, though. He regarded Dannon with a placid expression. "Good morning, Dannon. What can we do for you?"

  "It is an hour before dawn,” Dannon replied, his eyes drifting from Corin to the large, sleeping figure curled around him, the heavy arm laid across his shoulders. “Laen asked me to wake him."

  There was a sigh from behind him and Corin turned his head as Laen awoke. Deep black eyes met his own, which Corin suspected were alight with amusement. Laen blinked. Corin allowed his gaze to drift back to Dannon, and Laen's followed. At this point, Laen came fully awake and leapt from the bed as though he'd been shot from a cannon.

  "Don't ..." He pointed at Dannon with a furious expression, pale cheeks scalding with heat. "Don't even think it. It's not how it looks."

  Dannon raised one elegant eyebrow, his lips twitching just a little. "My dear fellow, in my experience, it never is."

  "Damn you, Corin!" Laen exploded, glaring at him in fury.

  "What the devil did I do?" Corin demanded, reaching for his cold, damp shirt and grimacing. "You were the one wrapped around me, though I might have known it would be my fault," he added, not hiding the bitterness in his tone. “It usually is.”

  Laen just stood there, awkward, fuming, and silent. Corin shrugged and adopted his most innocent expression, though he suspected the devil twinkled in his eyes. "It’s a stressful time, Laen, there is no shame in needing a little comforting."

  "Stop it!" Laen said, horrified as Corin watched his face with growing amusement. "It was cold and I was asleep ... I ... I obviously thought you were Océane!"

  "Obviously," Corin replied, deadpan, catching Dannon's eye, who looked to be thoroughly enjoying the entertainment.

  Dannon shook his head, obviously deciding to join forces with Corin and torment the big man a little further.. "Really, Laen, you know me well enough to realise I won't say a word. What the two of you do in your own time is none of my affair."

  Before either of them could react, Laen had snatched up a dagger and was holding the tip against Dannon's throat. "Nothing happened," he growled, fury in his voice.

  The duke looked down at the dagger and raised his eyebrows. "Whatever you say, Laen."

  Unimpressed by his tone of voice, Laen stepped closer still, eyes narrowed. "Nothing. Happened."

  Dannon cleared his throat. "I believe you."

  Corin watched him, his face expressionless. All at once, he realised he’d been right not to confide in Laen. His temper was still too uneven, his self-confidence too brittle. He cared too much about what people thought, rather than the actual truth, and he was still too judgemental. Memories of an older, far more terrible argument and Laen’s cruel retaliation were suddenly vivid and painful once more.

  Satisfied that Dannon believed him at last, Laen moved away and snatched up his clothes, pulling on his shirt and trousers as quickly as he could manage. Irritation prickled beneath Corin’s skin. “There’s really no reason to run away, lover,” he said, taunting Laen deliberately now, and gaining a tight-jawed glare of fury in return.

  Laen yanked his boots on and picked up his coat, turning back to look at Corin. "I'm not sure about the Light Fae, but I'm leaving now before I kill you myself."

  "Well, really, Laen, I don't see what it is I've done?” he said, torn between amusement and dismay. “You were clearly the instigator, after all."

  Laen glared at him as he snatched up his weapons. "Just watch your back!" he snapped.

  "I think that advice would have been more relevant last night," Corin muttered, smirking a little.

  Laen's scowl deepened. "I really am going to kill you." And with those comforting last words, he stalked out of the tent. The weather was still raging outside, and the tent flaps whipped back and forth as a freezing gust of wind blew sleet inside. Corin grimaced as the tiny shards of ice pattered against his bare chest and Dannon tied the opening shut again.

  "Is it wise to antagonise him, in the circumstances?" Dannon asked, frowning at Corin with genuine concern.

  "Oh, he's not really angry," Corin replied, shaking his head and wishing he’d just held his tongue. Laen would never change, and there was really no point wishing it after all these years. "He's just embarrassed. By the time I get out there, he'll be over it."

  Dannon raised one eyebrow, clearly unconvinced as he rubbed at his throat. "He looked pretty angry to me."

  Corin got up and searched for his clothes. "No, no. He's all hot air for the most part. He’s just rather sensitive to any perceived slights to his manhood. We’ve got his father to thank for that, I’m afraid." He pulled on his trousers, shivering as the damp fabric stuck to his skin, and glanced up at Dannon as he fastened his belt. "You'd have no doubts if he was really angry." Corin paused,
remembering the occasions when Laen had seriously lost his temper with him. He went beyond what most people experienced as anger, his words meant to inflict the deepest hurt possible, even if he didn’t truly mean it at heart. "I can assure you, it is not something you'd want to be on the receiving end of," he said. He had picked up his boots, but now stood staring at them, lost in thought.

  "Corin? Are you quite alright?"

  "What?" Corin looked up, startled as he’d forgotten Dannon was there at all. "Oh, yes. Fine, fine,” he said, nodding. “I take it everything is in order?"

  "It is."

  Dannon watched as he strapped on his weapons, and Corin turned to him. He did not enjoy asking Dannon for favours but he was too desperate not to. “I don’t suppose you would happen to have any breakfast about your person," he asked with a smile.

  Dannon hesitated and Corin didn’t doubt he’d been instructed to keep him sober.

  “Oh, come on, man,” he said, frustrated by everyone treating him like a bloody child. “I’m hardly going to get off my head from what you’ve got in that tiny flask. With what I’ve got to do this morning, a nip to keep out the cold isn’t too much to ask, is it?”

  He watched the duke frown and then sigh as he reached for his inside pocket, taking out a small, silver hip flask.

  "Good man." Corin took the flask and helped himself, closing his eyes as the alcohol warmed his blood. With reluctance, he forced himself not to drain the entirety of it and handed it back. "Thank you."

  Dannon nodded and took the flask back, tucking it back in his coat. "They say you are going to bring down the wall,” he said, his dark eyes curious and sceptical. “Is it true?" He watched as Corin took a last look around the tent and nodded.

  "Yes. It’s true.”

  He stared at Corin, something that might have been fear in his eyes. "That is something I would like to see."

  Corin snorted and gave a grim smile. "Well, then, in that case, we had better get on with it. Come, Dannon, time to take the city."