Dark Breaks the Dawn

by Sara B. Larson

  The draw of magic was so sudden and fast, he barely had a chance to glance up before the blast of shadow struck him square in the chest, knocking him and the chair over backward. His head cracked against the floor, softened partially by the dark gray fur rug. He lay there for a moment stunned, staring at the dark ceiling. Had Lothar truly just done that? His flesh burned and he glanced down to see a bloody hole in his tunic right over his sternum.

  Lothar shoved his chair back and stormed over to tower above him, the blood-red conduit stone in his forehead catching Lorcan’s attention. It was often easy to forget that his brother also had the ability to become the king and conduit for the Dark Power. That he could become very dangerous if he ever chose to make an effort.

  Lorcan could have jumped to his feet, or shifted and attacked back. But instead he just stared at his brother, waiting for his body to begin to heal.

  “I know you are planning something,” Lothar spoke quietly, his voice cold. “But you don’t have to do this. Together, we could …”

  “Together we could … what?” When Lothar trailed off Lorcan finally sat up, his tone mocking. “What is it you think we could do? Are you suggesting treason—or worse?”

  Lothar’s neck flushed red but he didn’t back down. “Father is just using you. He manipulates you into doing what—”

  “You think I don’t know that?” Lorcan hissed, glancing meaningfully toward the door, a subtle reminder to keep their voices down. He slowly stood up, taking his time until he was practically nose to nose with his younger—and slightly smaller—brother, glowering down at him. “I am not planning anything.”

  “I’m not as naïve as you all assume I am. Nor am I as weak as you treat me.”

  Lorcan had to give Lothar credit—his brother had taken him by surprise, something that was difficult to do. And he still wasn’t backing down. But Lothar had no idea what was truly at work, what had already been set into motion.

  “What is it you want, Lothar? Peace? To overthrow our father and go to the new queen and beg her forgiveness for killing her parents? Then we can all join hands and dance merrily all together, just in time for Summer Solstice, drunk with relief, right?” The words were scornful, spat at Lothar in a furious whisper. “Go back to your books and your worthless dreams and let me handle reality.”

  Lothar stared at him for a long moment, until the anger in his eyes cooled into something worse—pity. “You don’t have to do it, Lorc. Whatever it is they’re trying to get you to do. You don’t have to be their pawn.”

  “I am no one’s pawn,” Lorcan growled. “Now go, before I decide not to be so forgiving and pay you back for this.” He gestured at the partially healed wound on his chest. “You ruined one of my favorite shirts.”

  Lothar’s lips tightened into a thin line, but he finally nodded and strode past his brother. Lorcan heard the twist of the handle, but Lothar paused before opening the door.

  “If you ever change your mind, I will always be here for you. Just like I always have been.”

  Only after the door shut and the sound and scent of his brother had gone did Lorcan relax his grip on the dagger he still held and let the anger he’d summoned seep out, leaving him cold and deflated.

  He shucked off his shirt and tossed it onto the ashes in the hearth.

  Though Lorcan had denied it, Lothar was closer to the truth than he realized. A pawn. A piece in an ever-changing game, moved and utilized at everyone’s will but his own.

  Not forever, he promised himself as he sat down and went back to polishing the dagger. Some of his blood had spattered on the blade.

  Just one more scar among many.

  Evelayn paced the council room, waiting for everyone to gather, a note clutched in her right hand. It had to be from Caedmon if it warranted reconvening the council when she hadn’t planned on meeting again until the next morning. Though that’s where Tanvir’s focus should have been, the note and everything it meant was far from his thoughts. He watched her silently, trying to keep his emotions in check. Whenever he was near her his feelings were always in a tumult—but after that morning, it was worse than ever. The memory of kissing her was equal parts unimaginable joy and heartrending pain.

  She was breathtakingly beautiful at first sight, but the more he got to know her—her strength, her humor and wit, her tenacity and grace—the more stunning she became, until she was nearly always on his mind, filling his thoughts during the day and his dreams at night. It was a cruel fate that had put her in his life now.

  When High Priestess Teca came in and took her seat, the doors were shut and Evelayn turned to face them.

  “I’ve received word from Caedmon,” she began without preamble. Her expression was drawn but determined. “He made it back to Bain and confirmed the king’s plans. He has decided to go through with it just as we were told, and intends to attack the week of summer solstice.”

  A few of the council members immediately began to murmur in disbelief, and even Tanvir felt gut-punched.

  “That’s so soon!”

  “Impossible! He can’t be that big a fool!”

  But she wasn’t done.

  “He feels that is when we would be caught most unaware,” Evelayn continued loudly, her voice cutting over the others. “He believes we’d never expect him to launch an attack during the week of our highest power.” She paused, glancing down at the parchment she clutched. “I see no reason or benefit for Caedmon to deceive us in this. I trust him. And I move that we put our plan into action immediately. I can be ready to leave at first light.”

  There was an outburst of sound all around Tanvir, but he just sat in his chair stunned. Three weeks? He’d known this was coming—it was inevitable—but to only have three weeks to prepare?

  She’ll succeed, he assured himself. That’s the plan and it will work.

  “I volunteer to go with you,” General Kelwyn stood from his spot beside Evelayn, and General Olena immediately jumped to her feet also.

  “I offer my services as well.”

  “We still haven’t agreed that anyone should go on this accursed mission, let alone the queen!” Lord Teslar burst out, also jumping to his feet.

  “Enough!” Evelayn cried, but it was like a pebble dropping into a lake. The shouting and arguing continued, growing ever louder. Tanvir was on the edge of his seat, prepared to try and get everyone’s attention for her when she shot a burst of light out of her hand to explode against the far wall with a loud boom.

  “I said that’s enough,” she repeated coldly into the sudden silence.

  All eyes were fixed on the queen, and one by one the council members all resumed their seats, some looking abashed and others—like General Olena—visibly irritated.

  “I appreciate all your opinions and concerns. However, I am the queen of Éadrolan and I have made my decision. It is final.”

  Tanvir’s heart beat faster in his chest as she stood tall at the head of the table, the sharp scent of her power still lingering around her.

  “The silk is our only hope of defeating Bain, especially if we only have three weeks until he attacks. I will leave at dawn with General Kelwyn and Lord Tanvir, because they are both knowledgeable in this war and can keep up with me. General Olena and High Priestess, I leave it to you both to see to the preparations for the rest of the plan, so that when I return, we are prepared for Bain. Lord Teslar, I need you to take a message to the priestesses at the warfront and to all of the generals still stationed at the border. Everyone else assist those three as you best see fit.” Evelayn looked around the table. “That is all. You are dismissed.”

  She turned on her heel and marched out of the room, leaving everyone at the table sitting in stunned silence.

  Tanvir almost felt like applauding, but instead he merely stood up, bowed slightly to everyone else, and followed Queen Evelayn from the room.

  General Kelwyn was already waiting for Evelayn the next morning when she reached the appointed spot in the courtyard, her pack strapped t
o her back and a full flagon of water at her side, but Tanvir wasn’t there yet. She’d been hoping to see him alone first, as there had been no time to speak to him in private the night before; she’d been too busy preparing everything for her trip, including a plausible excuse to give the court for why their queen would be gone for a week.

  In the end, Ceren had saved the day. She’d come up with an idea to claim that Evelayn needed a week to rest and mourn the loss of her mother in private, and would be accompanying Ceren to her family’s holdings in Diasla—a city partway between Solas and the castle, and the Sliabán Mountains.

  “Are you sure you’re willing to leave the castle—and Quinlen—for an entire week?” Evelayn had questioned but Ceren had been immovable.

  “This is far more important than a few walks around a garden or a shared meal or two. Of course I’m sure. Just as long as you promise not to get killed and to come back as quickly as possible.” Ceren had waved her hand in the air, trying to sound blasé, but failing miserably when her eyes filled with tears.

  Evelayn had hugged her then, trying to keep her own fears at bay. “Of course I promise. This week will be over before you know it, and then you can go back to arguing with your mother and flirting with a certain handsome Draíolon in the gardens each morning.”

  Ceren had responded with a watery laugh. “Sounds heavenly.”

  “It will be. Soon this will all be over and you will have a lifetime of walks in the garden to look forward to. No more attacks, no more war.”

  “Now that really does sound heavenly.”

  They’d hugged again and then Ceren had left to prepare her part of the plan.

  “Where is Tanvir?” General Kelwyn’s deep rumbling voice broke through Evelayn’s thoughts and brought her back to the reality that if things went badly that very well may have been the last time she’d ever see Ceren.

  No, she told herself viciously. Don’t even think that. This will work. It has to.

  She’d secured the offering from the priestesses in her pack; something as valuable as Máthair Damhán’s silk.

  “I’m sure he’ll be here any moment.” Evelayn turned to the castle, watching for his familiar frame to emerge. The sun had crept a bit higher in the sky when she began to feel uneasy. He was never late for their runs—why this morning?

  Just when she was about to suggest they go looking for him, he rounded the corner, striding toward them in the burgeoning dawn, looking harried.

  “I apologize most profusely,” he began before he’d even reached them. “I had to finish taking care of a few pieces of business before I could go.”

  “What business could have been more important than this?”

  Tanvir turned to Kel. “A few pressing matters with my family’s holdings. Again, I apologize.”

  “It’s fine. Let’s go.” Evelayn started to walk toward the forest north of the castle. “General Kelwyn has spent the night studying what route we should take, so he will take the lead for now. We must make up time this morning. When we stop to eat, he can fill us in on where to go, and thereafter we can take turns leading. The only way we are going to make it there and back in time is if we run as fast as we are able from sunup until sundown.” She paused at the outskirts of the castle grounds and turned to Kel and Tanvir. “I know I’ve asked a lot of you both and I don’t pretend that this is going to be easy.”

  “It’s my pleasure to serve you, my queen.” General Kelwyn pressed his fist to his chest and bowed to her.

  “And mine, Your Majesty.” Tanvir winked at her, so quickly she almost didn’t catch it, before also bowing. With General Kel there, she realized he probably wouldn’t dare use her given name.

  That would make for an even longer week than she’d anticipated.

  “Thank you, both. General, after you.”

  Kel straightened and then took off at a sprint, Evelayn at his heels and Tanvir taking up the back. They had three days to reach the border and cross into the southeastern tip of Dorjhalon near the Sliabán Mountains, one day to bargain, and three to return to the palace. It would only be possible with a grueling pace that most Draíolon couldn’t maintain for one morning, let alone six out of seven days. But Tanvir and Kel weren’t just any Draíolon. As the forest blurred around them, and the hours passed, Evelayn was more certain than ever that she’d made the right choice.

  This will work. This will work. She chanted it to herself all morning and again during the afternoon, after they paused to quickly eat around midday, the sweat dripping down her face and spine as she sat on a fallen log.

  By the time they finally stopped to set up camp for the night, shortly after the sun set and the forest had fallen into shadow, even Evelayn was gasping for air, her tunic soaked through. Tanvir had bent over to grasp his knees, trying to catch his breath while General Kel sat down to stretch on the mossy patch of ground they’d found in a small clearing where they could sleep.

  When Evelayn had recovered slightly she began to search for kindling to start a fire.

  “Your Majesty, please, let us do that,” General Kelwyn protested, quickly rising to his feet.

  “Kel, stop. I’m not going to sit here and watch you two wait on me hand and foot after running as hard as we did all day. I’m not your queen right now. We are a team and I will do my part.”

  He looked like he was about to argue, but when she glared at him, he shut his mouth and merely nodded.

  “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

  “And no more of that while we’re out here, either. My name is Evelayn.”

  “If you say so, Your Majesty.”

  She shook her head at the stubborn general and went back to collecting firewood, wandering between the trees a few lengths away from the clearing.

  “Let me help you, Your Majesty,” Tanvir’s voice came from behind, soft and teasing. “Unless you wish for us to sit back and watch you wait on us. I could find a way in my heart to be satisfied with that arrangement.”

  Evelayn turned to face him, one eyebrow lifted. “Just for that, I will let you carry this load for me, my lord.” She tossed him the armful of sticks and branches she’d collected, which he barely caught in time to avoid dropping them all over the forest floor.

  “As you wish.” He echoed what Kel had said earlier.

  They fell quiet as she scoured the ground for more firewood and piled the viable options into his arms.

  When they were some distance from Kel and the camp, Tanvir spoke again. “I still can’t believe this is happening—that you’re doing this. I never wanted to risk you this way.”

  “It was a good idea. And it was my choice to make. I have to do what I can. If this is the only chance of saving my kingdom … well, then …” She shrugged, even though her heart beat faster as she thought about the looming challenges ahead.

  “Why do you have to do that?”

  Evelayn paused, glancing over her shoulder at him. “Excuse me?”

  Tanvir’s expression hovered somewhere between exasperation and appreciation. “I don’t even know how to describe it. You’re stubborn and headstrong, but you’re also so determined … so brave. I want to throttle you and kiss you—all at once.”

  He took a step toward her, a tendon in his jaw tightening.

  “I’m not keen on the idea of being throttled.” Evelayn stood frozen to the same spot, the soft earth compressing beneath her feet as he took another step closer. His familiar citrus and spice scent mingled with the musk of the damp soil and the fragrance of the flowers and plants surrounding her.

  “Then stop being so frustrating.”

  Evelayn’s heart thumped against her rib cage. “I’m not sure I know how.”

  Tanvir laughed softly, “Now that I believe.”

  He finally stopped when the load of wood he held was the only thing separating them. “If my arms weren’t full of branches right now, I think I would be tempted to find a different use for them.”

  Evelayn’s neck warmed and her belly tightened, but
she tried to keep her expression placid. “I believe I already expressed my feelings about being throttled.”

  “And I believe that you are purposely trying to frustrate me now.”

  “I’m not sure that would be wise,” Evelayn said lightly, belying the tumult inside her, but he must have scented her true feelings, because he growled softly, an almost animalistic sound. Her heart skipped up into her throat at the sudden fierceness of his expression, all the teasing wiped away.

  “You really have no idea what you’re doing to me, do you?” he rasped.

  Evelayn swallowed, feeling somehow immobilized by his amber gaze, his eyes still shining brightly in the falling darkness. She took a deep breath to calm her trembling hands and caught a different but still familiar scent. Tanvir must have noticed at the same time she did, because he quickly took two steps back and turned away, just as Kel strode into the clearing.

  His sharp gaze traveled between them, and Evelayn forced herself to adopt the composed mien she wore at the castle whenever she was in public, willing herself to be calm, to not give their still uncertain feelings away.

  “That armful looks more than sufficient for one night,” was all Kel finally said to Tanvir.

  “I agree.” Evelayn nodded at Kel and then began walking back to the camp. “We’d better hurry and get some rest. We should begin again at first light tomorrow.”

  She didn’t glance back to see if the two males followed her or not.

  EVEN THOUGH THEY PUSHED THEMSELVES TO RUN AS fast as possible, a building exhaustion slowly began to diminish their pace so that they didn’t reach the border until the end of the third day. Evelayn had hoped to be at Máthair Damhán’s lair by then, and they were still a good day’s travel from where the Ancient lived in a cave in the Sliabán Mountains. The teasing of that first night seemed a distant memory as tension coiled tighter and tighter around the trio, a relentless and increasing pressure as every day brought them closer to the summer solstice and Bain’s attack.