Love, Blood & Fury

by Melissa J Kincaid

  “Are you sure it will return?” whispered Arii as piercing blue eyes met hers, reflecting like a fox’s in the dim light.

  “It is said that when a Reaper tastes its prey, it will hunt them until either it drains the soul from its victim, or it is repelled away with strong magic.”

  “The attack on Sybell was obviously a ‘in the wrong place at the wrong time’ kind of situation… I have not felt any strong magic in the castle… have you?” said Arii, watching Nem in the moonlight. If there had indeed been strong magic in the castle – strong enough to draw a Reaper, she would have felt it, surely. So far what had drawn the creature was but a mystery, a mystery she catalogued into the back of her mind to figure out later.

  “No, I can’t say I have. I believe we are the only users of magic in the castle currently.” Nem’s brows narrowed as she dipped her hand into the pocket of her pants.

  “Well, the shadowy piece of Kryvern shit better show soon, my legs and arse are falling asleep,” sighed Arii as she shifted uncomfortably on her perch.

  The silver of Nem’s hair peeked from the cover of her hood as she inclined her head, her nose twitching as her lips curled back. “Well, you have your wish, it’s nearby.”

  Arii felt a shiver of anticipation shoot down her spine as her eyes speared to the window. The plan was simple – wait for the creature to appear for round two with the Princess, then send it back to whatever hell hole it had crawled out of.

  “Remember, a Reaper cannot technically be killed, we must banish it with magic. Our magic combined with this should do the trick.” Nem lifted her hands and uncurled her fingers, revealing a small chunk of crudely cut crystal in the palm of her hand. It glowed with a strange inner blue fire, as if power contained within the stone was bouncing around, looking for a crack in its prison.

  Arii stared, wide-eyed. “Nexus Crystal? No fucking wa-”

  Nem lifted a finger to her lips. “Shh, it’s here.”

  Nem placed the crystal in her cloak before shifting to land nimbly on the balcony of the Princess’ rooms, Arii following close behind. Pressing open the window, the two figures slid silently inside as an inky black mass shifted above the Princess’ bed. The creature’s existence was heavy in the room, a chill sweeping the air. Frost coalesced on the windows – ice fingers skittering along the windowpanes.

  Nem was swift, acting quickly lest the creature sense their presence. The Fury thrust out her hand, the Nexus Crystal throwing flickering blue light across the room.

  Arii threw her magic out, encasing the room in a thin veil and ensuring anyone near would not hear, before darting past Nem to perch on the bed between the Princess and the creature. Snapping out an open-handed palm between them, she threw out her magic again in a rippling blue shield.

  The Reaper screamed and whipped its head, a terrifying screech tearing from its widening jaws, its glowing vermillion eyes flashing as it recoiled from the Nexus Crystal’s radiating power. Nem’s teeth bared as she lifted her free hand against the one holding the crystal, shoving her own magic into the spell.

  “Leave here, beast!”

  The creature screeched, an inhuman, terrifying sound that grated down Arii’s senses like Nem’s silver nails on a chalkboard. As planned, Arii added a second hand and threw more magic against the shimmering blue bubble created by Nem that now enveloped the writhing creature. It thrashed in a whipping flurry of darkness, clawing at the shield and screaming with fury. The Reaper howled and slammed against their barrier, its shadow claws slashing and cleaving as it tried to find a way out.

  Blue light bounced about the walls, reflecting off the golden accents of the room and giving the place an underwater effect. Had Arii had the time to look, she would have thought it beautiful in a cool, mystical way.

  “If you banish me-“ called the thing as it thrashed, jaws snapping. “Then you will allow a power unchecked to be unleashed upon this land.” The creature screeched and Arii could feel her magic beginning to wain as she threw it all into the spell.

  What was it talking about?

  She saw through the whipping darkness that Nem’s face was beginning pale. Their magic was not an endless well - it had its limits and they were fast approaching the bottom. She could feel sweat blooming on her forehead and neck, her teeth clenching in a snarl.

  With one last cry, Nem pushed the crystal closer and the creature howled, shadow claws clutching at its head as it coiled as if in horrible pain.

  “Be gone, you filth!”

  The Reaper screeched as it writhed, and with a drawn-out scream the thing imploded within itself, withering into a pop of inky black mist.

  As soon as the last whisps of shadow receded, Nem dropped the crystal to the floor and stumbled back as if burned, their hard breathing the only sound in the now dark room. Arii lowered her hands, eyeing the dormant crystal on the plush floor rug, now looking like nothing more than a clear glass paperweight. The magic within was no more.

  From behind Arii on the bed, a gasp sounded.

  Head whipping around, Arii saw Sybell pressed against the head of her bed, eyes wide and fixed on the two women at the foot.

  Oh, bloody hell.

  “You said she’d been given a sleeping draught?” hissed Arii as she shot a look at Nem.

  The silver haired woman shook her head, her glossy bob whipping from side to side. “I slipped it into her tea, she must not have drunk it all.”

  “W-What in all the Gods-” choked Sybell, eyes darting between them. “You… you are Fae?”

  Arii swiped a hand down her face and she groaned.

  Nyx’s arse they were in trouble.

  There was no telling how much the Princess had seen, but by the ashen look of pure shock of her face Arii knew she had most definitely seen their use of magic to banish the Reaper.

  Only Fae had magic like that, and those few Fae that were left were taken in by the Fates and turned into assassins… into Fury.

  “You are both Fae! I knew there was something about you, but Fae assassins?” Sybell’s eyes hardened and her jaw set in a stubborn frown.

  Arii turned to face the girl and tilted her head, like a cat surveying a mouse. For a moment, she considered silencing the girl with a quick hand to the mouth and a knife across her slender throat, but before she could action the thought the Princess lifted her hands into the air.

  “I won’t tell anyone.”

  Arii’s brows shot up at this.

  “I’m serious, I won’t tell.”

  “How can we trust you will not breathe a word to anyone, Princess?” murmured Nem from over Arii’s shoulder. She knew that the Fury was having the same thought process as she had. They could not allow their cover to be blown, not now.

  Sybell’s eyes darkened as her face remained serious, not a flicker of untruth upon her expression. If Arii had learned anything about the Princess, it was that the girl did not lie. Every single snide thing she said came straight and unfiltered from her brain to her mouth.

  “I swear it on the Gods. You saved my life, and for that I am in your debt - assassins or no. Look, I do not know why you are here, and honestly I do not care.”

  Arii blew a breath through her lips and glanced to Nem over her shoulder. The woman’s stare answered her silent question; if the Fury had decided to end the Princess’ life, she would be dead already.

  “Fine,” sighed Arii, eyes returning to Sybell. “But if you breathe a word, utter a single thing to anyone that alludes to what we are-” Arii leaned forward, her pointed canines flashing as she bared her teeth in a warning smile, “-I will gut you, letting you watch as your entrails paint these ridiculously expensive royal rugs in red. Trust me, death by disembowelment is incredibly painful and a very slow, excruciating experience. Or so I have witnessed – if the screams are anything to go by.”

  Sybell
swallowed audibly, her throat working as she stared at the two sets of glittering eyes before her. “I swear it on my own life,” she said, her voice resolute.

  Ariiaya knew she spoke true.

  Everyone knew that Sybell Kruel loved no-one more than herself.

  ~~~

  “So, the Reaper is… gone? How?”

  Lorch stood, hands braced and splayed on the council table, his eyes fixed on Elijah as the man stood a few paces away. Cloaked in his hood, Elijah folded his arms across his broad chest and paused before speaking again.

  “There have been no signs of the thing over the last two nights. Dare I say after attacking the Princess, it may have realised there was no magic here and fled.”

  Lorch sighed heavily, his shoulders slumped, as if he had just blown a gust of tension from his lungs.

  “I hope you are right, Elijah. Only the Gods know what the thing was doing here. Have you found any other clues as to why it was here?”

  Elijah shook his head gently. “No, Your Highness. I stood by Sybell’s door and checked on her throughout the night.”

  “Could it be waiting? No doubt it knows we are aware of its presence by now.”

  Elijah repeated the shake of his head. “No, Commander Hawke believes if the creature was to return it would be immediately during the first nightfall.”

  He would not admit that he had felt something, something simmering upon the air and coating his tongue with sweetness on the first night he checked on Sybell’s rooms. After entering, the room was silent and the girl slept in her bed, no signs of disturbance. He had paused, surveying every inch of the room with his silver stare.

  He could have sworn…

  “I’m glad, Elijah. Gods, I haven’t been able to sleep since the ordeal. My sister is a spoiled brat but no one deserves their soul sucked through their skin by a shadow demon.” He rubbed his eyes and Elijah frowned.

  “Perhaps you should rest, Lorch. You’re exhausted.”

  Lorch knew that when Elijah addressed him by his name, he was pulling the concerned friend card. With a sigh, Lorch straightened and smiled at his companion. “You’re such a mother hen, Elijah. I’m fine. I was actually just about to visit Miss Clearwater and see if she wanted to picnic by the waterhole again.”

  Elijah stiffened. “Lorch.”

  “Oh come on, Elijah. Arii has been around long enough that we can allow her a thread of trust, right?”

  Elijah’s entire face did not need to be visible for Lorch to see that his hackles were rising. Lorch moved towards him but paused a few feet away. “You still do not trust her?”

  “Around you? Not at all.”

  “Why?”

  Elijah’s top lip twitched. “Do you remember why you assigned me to be your personal guard, Lorch?”

  Lorch groaned, but Elijah barrelled on.

  “Because I would always tell you what you needed to hear - not what you wanted to hear. All of the snivelling, grovelling councilmen and courtiers that scuttle about your feet would sell their own mother to have the opportunity to line their pockets with your gold or spend one night in your bed.”

  Lorch’s mouth opened, but Elijah was not done. “You’ve always trusted my judgement, why not now?”

  The King rubbed the back of his neck, looking for a moment like a young boy being scolded.

  “There’s something about her, Eli. I just can’t-”

  His eyes lifted and his brows narrowed. “I just can’t stay away. It’s like something is pulling me to her and I can’t stop it, it’s like an invisible cord.”

  “Of course you can stop it. Post her to an assignment outside the castle. She’s talented, and that talent is not being fully utilised here.”

  “It’s almost like you want her to go away.”

  “Precisely,” growled Elijah.

  Lorch grunted in frustration, taking a step forward. “What is your problem, Elijah? Arii is talented in battle, and I trust her! She has saved my life twice, why would she do so if she were here for anything else but to serve the Crown?”

  Elijah’s arms dropped to his sides as Lorch moved closer, and the two men sized each other up. The guard was half a head taller than his friend, their builds completely different but at that moment the same anger radiated from them both.

  Lorch lifted a finger and poked it in the centre of Elijah’s broad chest. “You feel the same way!”

  There was a weighted pause before Elijah spoke, his deep voice low and dangerous. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  Lorch’s brows shot up as a look of mock horror fluttered across his features.

  “Gods, you feel the same pull to her! You always do this, Elijah. As soon as something strange, something exciting and new happens to you, you withdraw into yourself and close your walls. It was the same with-”

  Elijah’s lips twitched, but he did not bare his teeth fully. The air sizzled around them and Lorch swore he heard a clap of thunder in the distance, far beyond the castle.

  “Don’t you dare say her name.”

  Lorch had hit a nerve, and he knew it. The King pressed his finger harder into Elijah’s chest, as if he knew the man would not lay a finger on him.

  Of course, he was right.

  Elijah would not touch a russet hair on his head even if the King was raining blows to his face.

  “Clera.”

  Elijah whipped the hood from his head, and the two men were nose to nose then, both breathing heavily with anger. Elijah was practically vibrating with suppressed rage.

  Clera Citera, the woman who had woven him around her finger with her beauty and charms, and after a night of passion - attempted to kill him while he slept, all for some jewels and gold.

  Elijah could still see her face, frozen in shock above him as the light ebbed from her eyes, his dagger lodged in her neck. He still had the scar from her blade on his abdomen, a reminder of why he had not let anyone that close ever since. His silver eyes flared, a sound like a growl ripping from his throat as Elijah stepped back from the King, seemingly remembering himself after a few breaths.

  When he spoke again, his voice was a hoarse whisper.

  “That was a long time ago…”

  “But it still affects you, Elijah. It doesn’t take a magician to see that.”

  Elijah was the first to break their stare, grunting with frustration as he turned from Lorch and paced a few feet away.

  “It’s not as if I’m completely useless, Elijah. I know how to defend myself; you saw to that.”

  Lorch had no idea, had not seen how the woman moved during a fight, had not seen how she danced like death gave her wings, felling trained men and beasts alike. Never had he been matched by anyone in the ring, let alone a female. There was also the minor detail that the woman could use magic. It was terrifying, truly awe inspiring and it scared him.

  What scared him most was the hot fire she brought to parts of him that had been dormant for years.

  “Arii is not Clera,” Lorch called from behind him as Elijah spun and paced to the door.

  “I cannot take any chances…” Elijah growled as he paced from the room, ending the conversation with the slam of the heavy mahogany door.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The dungeon was freezing, the floor ice cold stone beneath her as Ingrid Polaris curled on the thin mattress, the only thing in the tiny cell besides a pot and small basin of stagnant water.

  What she had witnessed in the castle days ago was becoming a distant memory, confusion causing her mind to fog as she tried to recall what she had seen.

  The woman in the arms of the King’s Hand was definitely not his wife, and they were not merely speaking to one another in private. They had been embraced as if they were lovers.

  Ingrid’s body had stiffened as if clenched in an invisi
ble hand of ice, and the girl knew who the raven-haired female was almost immediately as magic caused her body to freeze.

  She was one of the Sisters of Fate, a weaver of the Tapestry of Life.

  How long had this affair been going on? And what was she doing in the castle?

  Ingrid had not meant to stumble into the room, she had been gathering clean supplies to take to Sybell, itching to sit by her bedside and ensure she was resting. Since the attack by the Reaper, they had not had the chance to speak about her ordeal. She had not had the chance to hold her, had not had the chance to kiss the worry lines either side of the Princess’ lips. Last she had seen, the Princess was awake but pale and with haunted glassy eyes.

  Thank the Gods she was alive.

  The lock in the cell door cranked, and the heavy door swung open on squeaky hinges as Valdis Kruel appeared.

  Ingrid gazed up, her eyes red rimmed and puffy from crying, her skin pink and scattered with gooseflesh from the cold. The handmaid uniform was not incredibly thin, but it did not protect her from the biting cold of the stone room.

  Valdis paused in the doorway, his face in shadow as he spoke.

  “This is… unfortunate.”

  If his words were meant to be sympathetic, his voice surely was not. Ingrid felt the hairs rise on her arms as he entered the cell, the flames from the wall sconces of the hall flickering with minimal light.

  Valdis crouched before her, moonlight filtering dimly over his rugged face. The deep, jagged fissure of a scar was more prominent on the right side, reaching from his brow and running down over his cheek to end at his jawline.

  When her gaze settled on his eyes, she inhaled a swift breath. Two blue pools stared at her, and she swore within their depths she saw a hint of sadness.

  “Lord Kruel, what I saw… between yourself and that woman, I swear to the Gods I will not breathe a word to anyone.”