Of Blood and Deceit

by Rachel A. Collett

My magic influence didn’t work on everyone; I didn’t know why it worked on some and not on others.

  Gullibility? Weakness?

  I didn’t want to hurt anyone like Sameen, or even Reese. They were good, their souls pure. Like my people in Eira.

  A pang of sadness threatened to distract me, but I tucked it away. The good and the pure could not help me, not from the king and his captains. A shiver traveled down my spine. I’d only ever used the magic to save my own skin. It was better when manipulating those with foul intentions, like the man in the bar. His soul was black as night. A murderer? I didn’t know, but his kind I was used to dealing with. His kind surrounded my uncle and led our army.

  His kind quailed easily to the fear of a Demon Daughter.

  The card game ended.

  I homed in on the sinister man. Take your winnings and leave.

  His hands froze upon the money on the table, his eyes narrowed. He spoke to the bearded sailor, who only shook his head and started to deal again.

  I lied. He will try to kill you. Take your winnings and leave.

  The bearded one froze mid-deal; his eyes flashed to mine. Had I connected with the wrong man? But before I could flee, the young man stood, the legs of his chair scraping against the wood floor. He finished collecting his coins and shoved them deep into his pockets despite the other one’s objections. He fled.

  The man at the table set down his cards and folded his arms across his chest at the same time that the front door to the tavern squealed open. I backed away, oddly revealing myself to the seaman.

  He skidded to a halt. His brown eyes rolled over my face and dress as he pulled his fingers through his hair. He was closer to my own age.

  “Well, hello, miss,” he said, his previous anxiety forgotten. That glint returned, but a handsome smile added something to that cunning face. “Can I help you? Are you lost?”

  “I—” I fumbled my words when an unfamiliar emotion wafted from him like bad cologne.

  My fingers relaxed from the grip of my knife still concealed within my pocket. I headed toward the alley, but before I could slip into the shadows, I employed a technique I had seen my maids use on the stable boys back at home to lure them into darkened corners. I peered over my shoulder, meeting his eyes, and blinked.

  What was I doing?

  Flirting? Being coy?

  I fled—my steps controlled even though my legs shook. Shock almost floored me when a voice followed.

  “Wait!” he called. Hurried footsteps tailed. “Where are you going?” He touched my shoulder.

  I suppressed a shudder. Grabbing his hand, I spun, twisting his arm behind his back. He called out, but my knife was under his throat before more than a squeak could release.

  I hushed him, bringing my lips to his ear. “Move and you die.”

  “What do you want, darling?” he asked through clenched teeth.

  “I am far from your darling.”

  “One can hope, can’t they? If not my undying love, what is it you want?”

  I twisted his wrist higher. He grunted, then laughed through his discomfort. “She likes it rough.”

  “All I want,” I said, “is your clothes.”

  He laughed again, his voice hoarse. “Lady, you could have had my clothes. You didn’t even have to ask.”

  My brows furrowed at some understanding I knew I was missing. I shoved him away, hard. He faced me. With a wink, he kicked off one boot.

  “And I want your wallet,” I added.

  His face dropped.

  Minutes later I plowed through the forest in greater ease than before. Although his boots were slightly larger and his shirt reeked of stale body odor, the pants and cream-colored top comforted me much more than the dress Sameen had brought.

  Pala would be disappointed.

  I used to hate frocks and evening gowns, and all the layers that came with them. They were ridiculous and confining. It wasn’t until my lady’s maid and her teachings that I understood the benefits of such frivolous costumes.

  No one expects sharpened steel and death beneath delicate folds of silk and lace.

  But Pala wasn’t here, and something told me deep within that I didn’t want her to be, either. She was a traitor. Not to the crown like I was—but to me, her deceit running deeper than I had even imagined.

  I pressed forward, quickening my pace toward the harbor located south-southwest of Riaan’s castle, according to Reese’s directions and my own learned knowledge.

  Freights came in and out of Eira’s docks as often as Anolyn’s, but to sail in our northern seas meant death to an unexperienced sailor. Frigid temperatures and torrential waters killed many of our people in their storms each year. Even if I could survive the journey, there was no way I could escape that direction without being detected. I had committed treason by running away, and King Johan taught that no one was above his throne, not even his niece. I would not risk being recognized by my uncle’s men.

  Something I thought to be safe from in a foreign kingdom. My battle gear matched that of my fellow warriors, and during combat, I was as fierce as anyone. How had the prince gotten such a canny depiction of me in battle? Although they were only rumors, most that fought against me did die beneath my blade, but not because they had seen my face.

  My father, Prince Toma, brother of King Johan of Eira was sacrificed to, and slain in the Demonic Wars—a five-year campaign against the continent by the Wraith Queen herself. It was in this epic conflict that the two countries of Eira and Anolyn buried their differences and fought against an evil menace and her army of lost souls.

  Prince Toma and a handful of my uncle’s best assassins resolved upon a counter attack. The Wraith Queen never condescended to enter enemy land until the battle was won, and so they would bring the battle to her.

  A month after my birth, the enemy suddenly pulled back most of her forces. My father had triumphed, but only one assassin survived the raid to return: Lucan.

  The Wraith Queen was dead. When we finally rid our forests from the remainder of her abandoned followers, our people were able to celebrate their freedom from her tyranny and reveled in their saved military. All the while, my uncle stewed over his lost brother and a longing for battle grew within him. He thought Anolyn would be weaker after years of fighting, and when I was ten, he launched his campaign against them…

  Two more years of blood loss proved it was our country that was weakened. Soon our forces withdrew, but not after severe loss on both sides. The king of Anolyn had been killed in the last battle, but no one knew under whose blade he had fallen. Since then, relationships between our lands had been tense.

  Business was still done within the black markets, mostly ignored by my uncle’s military captains. Much of Eira’s wealth came from illegal trafficking, and only a handful of skirmishes ever broke out at the border anymore.

  A sound halted me in place, the snap of a twig. I drew my knife, my breath frozen in my lungs. I turned a careful circle, waiting for something to leap from any of the trunks large enough to hide an attacker—but nothing stirred.

  Of course, there was more to fear than being attacked by a man within this kingdom.

  Forest Hollow. I didn’t know much about these woods, but considering the name alone, I guessed it was just as cursed as Varian. The woodland was still but far from asleep. A chill crept across the back of my neck. Clouds dampened the moon and the canopy of trees that pressed against my paranoid thoughts.

  My uncle had taught me about the kingdom of Anolyn since I was a child. Known for its warmer climate and its lush landscapes, the kingdom was rich in bounteous harvests. Its main trading products were its crops, animal hides, and coffee beans… as well as trinkets taken from captured souls and sprites as a method of payment for their deliverance. Shrunken heads, potions and poisons, and evil charms were also a hot commodity among the few magicians that still roamed the land.

  My kingdom was nowhere near as beautiful, but when the land finally shed its winter coat and
warmth spread its virility, Eira was a glorious sight—for four months, and then it quickly transformed back to its usual snowy landscapes and frigid temperatures.

  Whether he did it to keep me safe or to terrify his young niece, my uncle would often tell me stories of tortured souls and demonic spirits that roamed Varian. Even later, our warriors would spin tales of butchered travelers found lifeless along the road and disappearing children that played too close to the borders.

  Aside from the halted wars, it was what kept most from traveling through Varian Forest into our neighbor’s land. Those that did, stuck to the few well-known and well-marked trails that crossed from one side to the next. It was better to travel in packs. Large convoys of heavily armored warriors went two-by-two, constantly on the lookout. Single travelers purchased the best and fastest horses to make the trek in record time.

  I had none of these options when I fled my uncle and had escaped death, but deep-down I wondered what foul creature had whispered my flight in the wilderness that led to…

  Light infused my vision as a belated pain exploded in my jaw. I stumbled back, barely keeping my feet before I realized what was happening. A shadowed yet familiar form stalked toward me.

  I hissed, wiping the blood from my bottom lip. “Lucan.”

  “That felt good.” My uncle’s spy clenched and unclenched his hand. A satisfied smile lit one corner of his mouth. He pushed back his blond locks. “I knew you’d be by here sometime soon. You’re so predictable.”

  “Predictable?” The words hurt my jaw. I crouched low. I had fought him before in training, and had lost. The memory of it quickened my heart to a painful cadence.

  A line of three men stretched out to his left and right, blocking my way. Another snap sounded, and three more drew from behind. I twisted, eyeing their enclosing ranks. Their leathers and black hoods masked their faces, but one stood out among the others in a gray dress. The man from the pub smirked.

  Trapped.

  Demon Daughter

  My heart picked up speed, but I reserved my full attention to the deadliest man of the group.

  Lucan shrugged, rolling his shoulders. “I didn’t expect you to make me wait three months inside some prison, but oh well.” He lunged and swung.

  I barely dodged the wild haymaker.

  He smirked. “I think it’s time for you to come home with me.”

  “I don’t think so.” I pulled the dull butter knife from my pocket.

  He laughed, as did most of the others, then ignored my weapon completely. “Come, Ilianna. Your uncle misses you.”

  My brow raised. “You know that’s not true.”

  “That’s where your wrong, Princess.”

  He unsheathed his knife. The sound grated against my tightened nerves. I couldn’t win against Lucan and six other armed men, not in my current state. My eyes frantically searched for an escape.

  One of the cloaked men looked toward Lucan, his black eyes concerned. “I thought you said she was the princess. Why do you draw your knife on her? Why do you strike her?”

  “She’s not as innocent as she seems, gentlemen.” Lucan smiled, his gaze never leaving mine. “My king doesn’t hold back from putting his servants in their place, and that is all she is. A servant to the crown that needs to be humbled.”

  “Whatever you need to do, do it quickly. We won’t survive this cursed forest for long,” one man said, nervously shifting from one foot to the other.

  “You paid me to retrieve a runaway princess, but this is wrong,” Black Eyes said, stepping away with raised hands.

  “It’s brilliant.” My friend in the dress stepped forward, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I say we have a little fun with her.”

  I flinched, clutching my knife tighter, unsure of the implied meaning I knew I was missing.

  “She is not to be soiled,” Lucan growled.

  “What better way to humble her? Besides, I’ve always wanted to sample royalty.” He hiked up the hem of his dress to his knees.

  Several men sneered, but the one with the black eyes caught him by the sleeve.

  “You heard him,” Black Eyes said, his voice hard.

  The man from the tavern pushed away his roughened grip and stepped toward me. Faster than a whip, Lucan twisted, slamming his blade into his heart. Eyes wide, he gasped and folded to the ground.

  Lucan tsked, using the fabric of the man’s gray skirt to clean his bloodied blade. “I said she is not to be soiled.” He kicked the man’s body. The others stepped away nervously, no longer concerned about me.

  I bolted but didn’t get far before my legs were swept from beneath me. I tucked my head and rolled, quickly regaining my feet. Pain took my breath when someone grabbed me by my braid. They yanked me back into the wide expanse of their chest. Their arm snaked around my neck. I cringed when a mouth brushed my ear. “Gotcha.”

  I rammed my elbow back, earning a feral grunt, then stamped my foot on my captor’s toes, loosening his grip. I broke away, but Lucan was there to meet me.

  With a downward slash, his blade cut into my arm. A red line instantly drew from the inside of my elbow to my wrist. Unwittingly, I lurched into the hands of another waiting foe.

  “That was a warning, Princess,” Lucan said, crouching low.

  My jailor’s touch chafed upon the very fibers of my skin. Instinctively, I threw my head back. A satisfying crack and a cry told me I had hit my mark and the man stumbled. I twisted and sliced my blade across his middle, then plunged my knife into his heart.

  The scene slowed to a crawl, forcing me to witness as Black Eyes lurched forward, stabbing into the gut of another that went for me. My mind reeled when he instantly turned, battling another of Lucan’s men.

  Instincts kicked in and I moved to land a sidekick to Lucan’s stomach, but he was prepared. He grabbed my ankle and twisted hard. Pain racked up my leg and I fell, landing face down. I tasted blood from a split lip before hands seized my feet and yanked me back. My body flew over rock and brush that scratched at my face. I flipped over bucking wildly, freeing my legs.

  Lucan’s boot found my stomach before I could do more. Then again. My breath locked in my chest and my body seized. He wrapped his fingers into my tangled hair, dragging me to my feet. He shook me, jarring my neck. I gasped for air, my breath returning.

  Lucan shook me again. “Are you ready to come willingly?”

  “Go to hell,” I said, my words mumbled through a swollen mouth.

  He sneered. With a jerk, he head-butted me between my eyes. A crack sounded in my ears before I felt my body crumple like sand. I blinked against a numbing pain. Lucan drew back his boot to strike again—

  His body flew, caught in some invisible snare that catapulted him into an unsuspecting tree. Magic pulsed through the air, standing the hairs at the back of my neck on end. Lucan slid to his feet just before the newcomer tackled him full-bodied to the ground. Both men rolled and leapt to their feet. Shock infused my already mottled brain when I recognized the newcomer.

  Prince Castiel discarded his coat and drew two knives from sheathes strapped to well-built thighs. He glared, crouching low. His jaw muscles rippled. He circled Lucan, his movements smooth yet feral.

  Fear infused my thoughts. Why was the prince here? Why did an enemy—two enemies—come to my aid?

  Castiel lunged. Moonlight glinted from his blades as they clashed against Lucan’s steel.

  I crawled the body of the man I had killed, searching for weapons. My fingers wrapped around a knife in his pocket. I scanned the battle, my harried focus caught upon another man—and not one of Lucan’s. The bearded man from the tavern leaned against the trunk of a tree, casually observing me fumble. When our eyes met, I pointed the knife his direction, but he stayed where he was, raising his hands in immediate surrender. A bottle of ale tipped from his fingers.

  Drunken fool.

  A shuffle of feet drew my attention. One of Lucan’s men joined the battle against the prince before I could scrambl
e to my feet.

  My head swirled, but I braced myself, forcing my body to rise. I panted. My breath ground upon broken ribs as I leaned against a tree.

  A cry sounded, splitting my nerves. My original helpmate fell against an enemy sword. His black eyes met mine for a fraction of a second, then he crumpled to the ground, dead.

  And oddly, my heart reacted. The remaining blood drained from my face. “No!” The word tore from my lips. Lucan’s man spotted me. He ran, aiming his blade at my heart.

  Anger rose from deep within, but instead of fighting it, instead of fearing her, I smiled, welcoming it, welcoming the pain, welcoming the release. Heat coursed. Black flames devoured bone and flesh. The Demon Daughter rose from her forced slumber, eager to retaliate.

  The hired soldier balked, and she relished in the fear in his eyes. His lifeforce pulsed from him like heat from a blazing fire, so strong she could almost touch it. It called to her. Warmed her.

  My limbs obeyed her orders and with a scream that rent the air, I flew.

  Face to face, I sneered at my enemy, barely registering my blade already thrust into his ribs. I shoved him away and he collided hard to the ground.

  I smiled, but suddenly jolted back. My breath hitched in my lungs and pain exploded. Lucan’s dagger protruded from my stomach. I screamed. The Demon Daughter receded into her hiding place.

  Lucan was a blur as he fled into the black shadows of the forest. Dark liquid pooled from a shoulder wound. With a wave of his hand, trees fell beneath Castiel’s power to crush the fleeing spy, but Lucan scampered and weaved through the avalanche like the rodent he was.

  I collapsed to my knees, a curse bubbling indistinct from my lips, and the prince halted. Our gazes met and in that instant, I thought I recognized hesitation, perhaps anger, and some other emotion I couldn’t identify.

  Sparks rained in my vision. I shook my head to rid the reaction, but it was no use. The world spun. Before I fell, Castiel slid to his knees in front of me, his movements slowed by my mental failings. Strong hands caught me. The ground disappeared from beneath my body, swept up into arms I was never supposed to touch.