by Jen McIntosh
‘We’re riding,’ he told her, reaching for Storm’s saddle. Suriya paused, then she squared her shoulders, took a deep breath and helped Erion ready her mother’s horse.
Moments later, Erion leapt into the saddle and held out his hand. This time she didn’t hesitate. She gripped his forearm, climbed up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Storm pranced impatiently, as if sensing their need for haste, so Erion barely had to nudge his heels into her flanks for her to take off.
The great, black mare thundered out of the stables, across the courtyard and into the fields beyond. With open space in front of her, she stretched her powerful legs into a flat-out run, needing no encouragement from either of her riders. Nor did she appear to need direction, angling towards one section of the woods with unnatural surety. Suriya didn’t question it – she couldn’t get any sense of location from the turmoil in Lucan’s head.
He was hiding now, gasping for breath but trying desperately to be quiet. Something moved in the shadows behind him. He froze. There was a quiet snuffling, like a dog scenting the ground for a trail to follow. He swallowed.
‘Faster,’ Suriya whispered. Storm heard her pleas. The mare whinnied a challenging call as she launched them into the forest. Darkness engulfed them, but Storm did not miss a step. She tore through the trees with unerring certainty, her long legs making quick work of the uneven ground as she wove through the dense forest. She snorted contemptuously as a tangled net of vines sought to block their path and charged through, the web yielding before her powerful chest.
Through the gloom, they spied a huge, fallen tree blocking their path. Erion didn’t have to do anything as Storm checked her stride, gathered herself and leapt. Suriya yelped with surprise and clung to Erion. Somehow, he held them seated while Storm flew through the air and landed smoothly on the other side of the vast trunk. Right in the path of the Darkling.
The mighty mare gave a vicious roar and reared up, striking the creature with her great hooves. Erion clung on, but Suriya was thrown from the saddle. She tumbled to the ground, rolling over and over until she crashed into the narrow bole of a nearby pine. Disorientated and winded, it was only instinct that had her surging to her feet again.
‘Suriya!’ Lucan’s voice cried from the shadows. ‘Behind you!’
She whirled to see the Darkling careering towards her. It was small and weak. Little more than a child, and badly wounded. But its blood-red eyes had her paralysed in fear. Storm reared out of the darkness once more, a spectre of shadow and flashing hooves. Erion yelled encouragement and held on as best he could while the mare charged the Darkling down.
But it was fast. It darted out of the way, hissing irritably. Storm was quick to spin and chase after it, but it had heard Lucan’s voice and was streaking through the darkness in his direction. Time seemed to stop as Suriya watched in horror.
As the Darkling had turned on Suriya, Lucan had risen from his hiding place in a desperate bid to defend her. Brandishing a branch like he’d wielded the broom handle only hours earlier. But now he was exposed, with nothing between him and the Darkling streaking towards him. He braced himself and held the stick out as if it were a sword. Like a great cat, the Darkling pounced.
Suriya’s scream shattered the night. It was fear and wrath and defiance. And like fuel thrown on a fire, it stoked a single, stuttering ember into a raging inferno. Golden flames coalesced around her, twisting and raging through the darkness towards the creature. It screeched as the force of the blaze knocked it to the ground, where it was engulfed in the firestorm. It writhed and shrieked, but Suriya’s fury was insatiable – the flames flared, and the Darkling’s screams withered to a pitiful wail as it burned. The fire flickered as she hesitated.
‘Hold your ground,’ an unknown, yet familiar, voice snarled in her mind. ‘Kill it now.’
Whatever tenuous control she’d had over the flames disappeared as that presence took over. The inferno raged hotter than ever, and after what felt like eternity, the Darkling fell silent.
Suriya crashed to her knees, utterly spent, as the fire guttered and went out. Nothing remained of the Darkling but a charred, smoking husk. The forest floor was scorched and blackened in a perfect circle surrounding the corpse. Suriya’s stomach heaved at the destruction she’d caused. She didn’t know how, but whatever magic had conjured those flames had come from inside her. She dropped onto all fours and vomited on the ground.
Steady hands gathered the tangled mane of her hair and held it out of the way while she continued to retch. They were cool and calm as they soothed her through the pain, then held her while she shook and wept. She didn’t need to open her eyes to know it was Erion who held her so tight.
‘Suriya?’ Lucan’s voice whispered in her mind. Trembling fingers, slick with sweat, laced with her own, and she sensed her brother crouch down beside her. She squeezed his hand but couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes, for fear of seeing the devastation again. Her brothers – for they were all family in her heart – held her as she cried herself out. They huddled together for warmth and security. Storm stood over them, herding them between her legs and nuzzling them with her nose now and again, as if reassuring herself that they were unharmed.
It was only when Suriya’s tears ran dry that she consented to move. She was numb from shock and unsteady on her feet. The mighty black mare, who had saved all their lives, bowed down low as the boys lifted her onto her back. Then Erion took the reins and climbed up in front of her, while Lucan sat behind her. Together, they promised her, together they would keep her safe. And there, held between the two people she loved most in all the world, exhaustion dragged her down into oblivion.
A figure – a sliver of darkness in the shape of a woman – stalked through the gloom. Clad all in black, her feet were silent on the uneven ground, and despite the weapons hanging from her body, she moved like a wraith, slipping from one shadow to the next with a predator’s grace. The acrid stench of smoke and burned flesh mingled with damp pine, and she followed it deeper into the woods.
Glancing up, she checked the moon was hidden by the forest canopy before lowering her hood and removing the scarf from about her mouth. Her bronze face was pallid, as though she had not seen the sun for a hundred years, and marked with ink-black tattoos that curled like flames over her skin. And her eyes … her eyes were wholly black.
She paused, sniffing.
Crouched low.
Those black eyes narrowed. Tugging a glove off with her teeth, she extended a tattooed hand towards the forest floor. To a smoking circle. Scorched and blackened, with a husk of a body at its centre. Bones enough to tell it was human. But not mortal. She would recognise the stench of Darkling anywhere. Even the girl’s Casting hadn’t been strong enough to erase that stain from the earth.
She bared her teeth in a vicious grin.
It had been easy. So easy, to slip inside her mind. To wield the girl’s power as if it were her own and burn the Darkling to ash. She’d lingered long enough to savour its dying screams, before relinquishing control. The girl seemed to have enjoyed the destruction less. Clearly, she knew nothing of her birthright. Still, she would learn.
But where had she come from? Her and the boy. Those bloodlines were rare now. So rare. Strange enough to stumble on one, let alone two. And the other boy – not Graced. At least, not entirely. Not Darkling or Shade either. Something else.
The black-eyed woman pulled her glove back on, covered her face once more.
Time to find out just what was hiding in this forest.
Chapter Six
The castle was in complete uproar as every man, woman and child dashed back and forth, searching frantically. Panic was rising in Renila’s chest. Darkness had fallen and neither of the twins, nor Erion, were anywhere to be found within the castle or its grounds. Copper had returned – saddled, riderless and wild with fright – but the Lady’s mare was still missing along with the children.
‘Renila!’ She stopped and turned at the
sound of Farran’s voice calling her name as she ran through the main entrance hall. His brow wrinkled with worry, and he asked, ‘Any sign?’
She shook her head, unable to speak through the lump in her throat. Heedless to the many eyes watching, Farran took her hand in his own and squeezed in reassurance.
The hallway fell silent as an imposing figure appeared at the top of the sweeping staircase. Fury rippled off the Lady in waves as she descended the stairs and stalked straight towards the Captain. Farran released Renila’s hand but did not move from her side as he bowed. The Lady inclined her head in response and looked about her with distaste.
‘What is everyone doing?’ she asked.
Farran glanced either side of him and frowned in confusion. ‘They’re looking for your children, my Lady.’
‘I realise that, Captain,’ she snapped, ‘but they are evidently not in the castle. Why are you still searching in here?’
‘My Lady?’
The Lady’s temper flared as she hissed through clenched teeth. ‘They are in the Ravenswood. Gather your men, get on your mounts and find them.’
Farran blinked for a moment before he recovered. Bowing once more, he turned on his heel and marched out into the courtyard, barking orders.
‘How can you know that?’ Renila asked, under her breath.
The Lady turned those terrible eyes on her. ‘Instinct,’ she said. Then, without warning, her attention flashed towards the open doors – but her gaze was distant, as if she were looking beyond the entrance or even the grounds. The surrounding air throbbed and hummed as her brow creased with concentration. ‘Come with me,’ she ordered, striding after the Captain. The Lady was much taller than Renila, and her long legs carried her swiftly down the steps into the courtyard, sweeping Renila along in her wake.
Outside, the night was bitter and rain fell in icy sheets that soaked through clothes in the space of a breath. Oblivious to the weather, the Lady stopped below the stone archway that marked the entrance to the castle and looked out across the grounds. The watch kept fires going through the night to illuminate the surroundings, but the light only reached so far. Renila hovered behind her, pulling her shawl tighter against the elements as she peered into the gloom beyond, searching for whatever held the Lady’s attention.
‘My Lady,’ came Farran’s voice from behind them. ‘You need to go inside – it’s not safe.’ The Lady didn’t move. Then her posture relaxed, and she heaved a sigh of relief.
‘Stand your men down, Captain. The children are fine.’
And then, as if in answer to her words, the rain parted, and the mighty black mare stepped out of the shadows into the light. Renila cried out as she spied the small, pale form of her son astride Storm. Then the twins came into view behind him. A cheer went up, and even the Lady cracked a small smile. But any delight was short-lived as they took in the expressions on the children’s faces. Erion was the calmest of the three, though there was tension in the set of his shoulders. Lucan’s gaze darted about beneath his sopping fringe, and he held firmly to Suriya.
But as Renila’s eyes fell on the girl, she realised it was not out of fear for himself that Lucan clung so tight. Suriya’s pretty face was pale and drawn, her soaking hair plastered to it, and her glorious golden eyes vacant. She swayed, drifting in and out of consciousness, while a desperate Lucan struggled to hold her steady. Her eyes rolled back into her head as she passed out, and Renila leapt forward ready to catch her when she slumped sideways out of the saddle. But then the Lady was between them, and she caught the girl and lifted her into her arms with surprising ease. She looked down at the limp form she held, frowning, then glanced back up at the mare. She patted Storm’s nose in thanks and marched back inside without a word.
‘Lucan,’ she barked over her shoulder, ‘come!’
The boy flinched and slid from the saddle, pausing long enough to give Renila a fierce hug before staggering after his mother.
Renila looked up at her own son. His shoulders were slumped with exhaustion, but he gave her a tentative, weary smile and clambered down from Storm’s back. She steadied him with a firm hand as he swayed with fatigue and slipped on the wet stones.
‘Are you alright?’ she asked. He nodded and fell into her arms. Try as she might, she couldn’t help the choked sob that escaped her lips as she clutched him tight to her chest. ‘I will not ask, and you don’t have to tell me.’
‘Thank you,’ he whispered back. She buried her face in his hair to hide the fear in her eyes. He grew so weak, so tired … She worried about where it was leading and how tonight might accelerate it. At least her tears of fear and joy were hidden by the rain already streaking her cheeks.
Farran wasn’t going to let this matter go. There would be a reckoning. And if she’d learned anything in her time at the castle, it was that the Lady would never miss an opportunity to lay blame at Erion’s feet. With a deep breath, she stepped back but kept a firm arm around his shoulders and raised her eyes to meet Farran’s. He scowled and opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off.
‘My son is exhausted,’ she insisted. ‘He needs rest. It will wait until tomorrow, if he’s well enough. Please?’
But before she could extricate him, the boy turned to the great black mare and rubbed her nose. ‘Thank you,’ he murmured. Renila wasn’t surprised he insisted on finding the stable master, though perhaps somewhat frustrated. Erion was a gentle soul, and he wouldn’t consent to be led back inside until he was satisfied that Storm was looked after. All she could do was hover anxiously at his shoulder while he fussed.
By the time they’d made it back to their room, he was so tired he couldn’t even change out of his drenched clothes before he passed out on his bed. She smiled. It had been a long time since she had needed to tuck him in, let alone dress him. He’d be a man before she knew it. The thought almost made her want to weep. What need would he have for his little mother then?
In the last two months alone, she’d seen him age more than in the preceding two years. Not just in height either. There was an insight and awareness that hadn’t been there before. Nor could it be found in other boys his age. It often caught her off guard, how mature he was for his years. Something terrible had happened to them tonight, yet Erion had maintained more composure than most adults would ever manage. He would outgrow her before she knew it.
She brushed the tear from her eye in frustration and heaved a heavy sigh. She’d just have to savour every moment with him. It was an effort to move him to her dry bed. But when she was done, she tucked the covers around his softly snoring form and added another log to the fire. He would sleep all night long, and she wanted to check on the twins before she made it to bed. Even if that meant facing the Lady. After their disagreement, Renila had stayed out of her way, but some instinct insisted she should make sure the children were well. So, slipping from the room and locking the door behind her, she squared her shoulders, took a deep breath and headed for their rooms.
A soft curse slipped from her lips when she spotted Farran in front of the door to the twins’ chambers. He stood, arms folded across his chest and scowling. The scowl deepened as he registered Renila’s approach.
‘You can’t go in,’ he said.
Something in her stirred at his tone. Some wild, burning force that had long slept inside her was waking. Her heart pounded in her chest as that rising beast stretched and roared. A glowing ember of defiance catching on the dry tinder of her frustration.
‘Farran, please. Stand aside,’ she said in a voice that was not her own.
The Captain didn’t move. He didn’t even flinch.
‘Don’t be foolish, Renila. Don’t let emotions drive you to something you’ll later regret.’
Renila glared. ‘I have no quarrel with you, Captain, but one way or another I will tend to those children. So I ask again. Please, stand aside.’
Whatever instinct had driven her to confront Farran was screaming now. Something was wrong. There was something in the air that
made her stomach churn, her mind freeze with panic. Her fists clenched at her sides as she fought it.
‘Renila?’ Farran called.
‘Let me through,’ she demanded, shoving past him. Only barely noticing how the tall, strong Captain staggered from the force of her touch. Only vaguely aware of him shouting her name and following, as she marched into the twins’ rooms.
They were both seated on the settee before the fire, the Lady standing over them. Both awake, but far from alert as they stared up at their mother with glazed, vacant expressions. The Lady straightened at the commotion, releasing the children from her gaze, and turned those vast eyes on Renila, just as Farran drew to a halt behind her. The displeasure on the Lady’s face was near glacial. He clamped a firm hand around Renila’s arm and bowed in apology. ‘I’m sorry, my Lady, I tried to stop her.’
The Lady snorted and said scathingly, ‘You clearly tried extremely hard, Captain. I find it difficult to believe that a man of your size and training could not bar one small woman from entering a room.’
Farran flushed and made to drag Renila from the room. But she hardly noticed, her attention on the twins. All too easily, she wrenched out of Farran’s grip and crossed the room to kneel before the children. And in a move that was both brave and foolhardy, she turned her back on the Lady.
‘What’s wrong with them?’ she asked, as she scanned their pale, drawn faces. The Lady tutted in annoyance and dismissed Farran with a negligent wave of her hand. The Captain bowed and left. Renila didn’t even so much as glance in his direction.
‘There’s nothing wrong with them. They’re just tired and need to go to sleep.’
‘Lucan. Suriya,’ Renila called, taking their hands in her own. They blinked and looked around stupidly, as if waking from a dream.
