Blood of Ravens

by Jen McIntosh

  He crashed into her, sending them sprawling in the dirt, and pinned her beneath him with his legs. Then he rose up and drove the point of his sword down through her shoulder, burying it to the hilt, impaling her to the ground. She roared and tried to wrench herself free, but the blade held her fast. Dell staggered to his feet, breathing hard from the exertion, and stumbled towards his horse. At the familiar clink of manacles, Keriath thrashed again, but she only hurt herself further.

  ‘Never seen a Unicorn with Elf-magic before,’ he panted, crouching beside her. Keriath gasped an ugly curse and tried to fight him off. But he grabbed her jaw and forced her to face him, squeezing hard enough to make her eyes water. ‘Will you just give it up?’ he huffed, knocking her hands away as she scrabbled for his face.

  ‘I swear, by the Gods, I will kill you before the end,’ she hissed, trying to writhe out of his grip. But he only rolled his eyes and clamped the chains back around her wrists. He grunted in disinterest and chained her ankles too, before standing and pulling the sword from her shoulder in one sharp movement. She screamed and swore, wishing for her magic to soothe the pain. Dell’s eyes glowed red at the smell of her blood, and he hauled her up against him.

  ‘Don’t die on me,’ he instructed her. And then he bent his head to her throat and bit into her skin. The pain was not great, not compared to Drosta’s savage feeding. Nor compared to the aching wound in her shoulder. But his tenderness surprised her, and she didn’t fight it, even as another wave of self-reproach crashed over her. He took a few quick mouthfuls and then stopped, holding her tight as a wave of lethargy and weakness crashed over her. He kept his face buried in the crook of her neck, his breathing ragged against her skin and his heart thundering against her chest. Her flesh crawled at the contact, her stomach heaving at the stench of his stolen magic. Every fibre of her being recoiled from him.

  Then he spoke, and surprise stilled her. ‘Sorry,’ he murmured. ‘Couldn’t resist.’ He blew out a sharp breath and stepped back. ‘Damn, you taste good.’ Then he hefted her over his shoulder and threw her up into the saddle. He stormed back to the fire and pulled a burning branch from the pile. From the pyre, she realised as she looked again, for those were the bodies of the farmer and his family in the flames. Then he crossed to the house, opened the door and threw the torch in. It didn’t take long for the thatch to catch. Satisfied, he turned his back on the blaze and climbed up behind her, wrapping a muscular arm around her when she swayed.

  ‘Why?’ she whispered, clinging to consciousness.

  He was quiet for a moment. ‘It was all the dignity I could offer them.’

  ‘And the house?’

  He hesitated. ‘A warning. Mortals should know better than to put down roots this close to the Barren Lands. This should serve as a reminder to those who might forget.’ Stunned into silence for the second time that night, Keriath didn’t fight as he turned his horse back to the forest. Instead, she gave herself to oblivion.

  Dell roused her with a vicious shake, his other hand clamped down hard across her mouth. ‘Listen to me carefully, Unicorn,’ he whispered, his voice so soft she struggled to hear it. But there was enough tension and fear in his voice that she did as she was bid. ‘The camp is just up ahead, and something’s got the Hunt all riled up. We might both be in very real danger right now, so I’m going to ask you to do something for me, if you don’t mind?’ Keriath snorted into his hand, but he continued on, unperturbed. ‘On the assumption you’d prefer not to die,’ he breathed in her ear, ‘I’m asking that you do exactly what I say for the foreseeable future. I don’t particularly want to die either, so if it comes down to me or you, I’ll carve your heart out myself – but it would be such a waste, so can you just do as you’re told. Please?’ She didn’t respond at first, still dazed from blood loss – not to mention shocked by his good manners. But eventually, she inclined her head, and he released her.

  ‘What is it?’ she murmured, following his gaze as he dismounted and peered into the gloom.

  He shook his head. ‘Don’t know. Thought it was just Drosta raging because he’d realised you’d gone, at first, but pretty sure it’s something else. Too much tension for it to just be coming from our Hunt. Luckily for you.’

  ‘How is that lucky for me?’ she muttered, examining her chains. Spelled, just like the ones she’d dumped in the forest.

  ‘Because if there is something or someone else there, it means Drosta will be distracted. I’ve been on the receiving end of one of his thrashings. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.’

  Keriath snorted. ‘If you say so.’

  Dell hushed her with an impatient gesture, helping her down off the horse in silence.

  ‘Just stay close to me,’ he murmured. Then he was moving, creeping forward through the dense undergrowth. Keriath followed, trying not to set her chains rattling. It was only a few moments later that he paused, head up as if listening. Keriath stilled, ears straining. Then she heard it. Voices ahead.

  ‘This is my territory, Drosta,’ a female voice was purring, ‘and you’re trespassing. I’m well within my rights to kill you and all that’s left of your pathetic little Hunt.’

  Dell scowled, seemingly in recognition of that voice, but he stayed hidden in the shadows.

  Drosta snapped. ‘I travel on Queens’ orders.’

  ‘Show me.’

  ‘I don’t have them – they’re with my second. They sent us north to deal with the rising Shade presence in the Silvan Forests.’

  ‘Well, you’re doing an outstanding job of it if this is all that’s left of your Hunt,’ the female sneered. A low growl rumbled through the darkness as Drosta made his irritation known, but he didn’t dispute it. ‘Where’s your second anyway? Dell, isn’t it? He’s a handsome one.’

  Drosta’s answering snarl was vicious. ‘He’s none of your business. If you so much as touch him, I swear—’

  ‘Where is he, Drosta?’ she crooned, cutting him off. ‘Tell me now, or I start killing.’ Dell muttered a low curse and put a hand under Keriath’s arm, dragging her forward as he marched into the camp.

  ‘Calm your tits, Maren,’ he sighed, his voice heavy with contempt. ‘I’m right here.’

  The Huntress turned, grinning as he approached. Then her bloody gaze fell on Keriath, and she gaped in wonder that gave way to jealousy faster than Keriath had ever seen. She couldn’t help the smug smile that rose to her lips, nor the slight raising of her chin as she looked down at the ugly little woman before her.

  Then Dell was between them, fishing a scroll from inside his shirt and handing it to the Huntress. Maren opened it and read, her scowl deepening with every line. Keriath glanced to Drosta and what was left of his Hunt, on their knees, surrounded by the larger force of Maren’s Hunt. There was even a hint of fear in Drosta’s crimson eyes as his gaze bored into Dell. She repressed the snort that rose in response to that. It wasn’t the time.

  ‘Well, this all seems in order.’ Maren sniffed, waving a hand to her Hunt. ‘Let them up.’

  ‘Can we go now?’ snapped Drosta, snatching the scroll from her grubby little hands.

  Maren stared at him. ‘Who is she?’

  ‘My prisoner. A gift for the Queens. And if you try to take her, I’ll press charges of poaching.’

  Maren ran an assessing eye over Keriath. ‘Quite some gift. How did you catch her?’

  ‘None of your fucking business.’

  The Huntress snorted. ‘I’m concerned about the state of your Hunt, Drosta. Especially if you’re representing our Queens. Since I don’t have the authority to kill you, I think I should accompany you back to Dar Kual.’

  ‘That won’t be necessary,’ Drosta hissed.

  Maren gave him a serpent’s smile. ‘Oh, I’m afraid I must insist,’ she said, a hungry glint entering her eye as she looked Dell over. ‘Now I suggest you cooperate, before I make someone else suffer for your conduct.’

  Drosta snarled at the threat, but his gaze was brittle with fear and an
ger. Keriath almost laughed to see it. Especially when he bowed his head in submission. ‘I am yours to command,’ he breathed, not bothering to hide the reluctance in his voice.

  Maren beamed. ‘Good. Now, pack up camp. We ride out in an hour for Ciaron – as per your orders,’ she said. Keriath blinked. Ciaron? That made even less sense than Illyol.

  Drosta hesitated. ‘And my prisoner?’

  Maren’s smile turned feral, and she rounded on Keriath.

  ‘How old are you?’

  Keriath scowled. ‘Old enough.’

  ‘And how many of my brethren have you killed in your long life?’

  A smirk touched her lips. ‘Not enough.’

  ‘The Graced are wild, unpredictable beasts – not to mention arrogant,’ mused Maren, turning back to Drosta. ‘We owe it to our fallen kin to see her punished for her crimes.’

  Dell’s grip on Keriath’s arm tightened, and he drew her nearer. ‘She’s for the Queens,’ he reminded the Huntress, unable to keep the concern from his voice.

  ‘Oh, I wasn’t suggesting we kill her,’ the Huntress purred. ‘But we can still have a little fun …’

  Chapter Nine

  Every step her mount took was agony for Keriath. The wounds from her beating were healing, but those to her pride and damaged soul would take far longer. Since then, Maren had left her alone, mostly. Too preoccupied playing whatever sick games she had with Drosta, as far as Keriath could tell. Gods, the noises coming from their tent at night … Keriath, meanwhile, had been entrusted into Dell’s less than tender care. A small mercy, considering the heavy guard that surrounded them while they travelled south.

  But Keriath wasn’t stupid. She hadn’t missed the long-suffering glances Drosta had exchanged with his second, or the ravenous glint that appeared in his eyes whenever his gaze drifted over Keriath. Drosta feared Maren, and he was doing everything in his power to keep her distracted – away from his prize and from the Darkling who rode behind her.

  They had passed through the Silvan Forests without further incident. Maren had seemed keen to spend as little time as possible beneath the boughs of the silver birch and had cut south through the narrowest part of the forest. But instead of continuing south towards Dar Kual, she’d cut east across the northern edge of the Barren Lands towards Ciaron – precisely why was beyond Keriath. It was the wrong direction for Dar Kual, and even under Nightwalker rule, Ciaron was still a dangerous place for a Darkling.

  ‘Where were you to meet your contact?’ Maren had asked.

  ‘On the Eastern Wing,’ he’d grunted. ‘We were told they would find us.’

  They were now out on the open expanse of the Barren Lands where the bitter wind was merciless, biting into every cut on Keriath’s body like a knife. Her cheeks stung from the force of it, and she shivered with the cold. They continued south-east, hugging the southern edge of the Silvan Forests. Keriath didn’t bother to ask why they weren’t heading south towards Dar Kual. She didn’t want to know.

  Relief weighed heavy on her bones when they stopped just before dawn. Maren had finally tired of tormenting her, perhaps believing she’d learned her lesson. She resisted the urge to smirk at the thought. The only thing their mistreatment had taught her was a new level of hatred. She daydreamed of ways to end Drosta, Maren and their Hunts, and repay every injustice committed upon her.

  Dell interrupted her fantasies, crouching beside her and handing her the water skin without a word. She took it, ignoring the bitter tang of ruan. Alexan had been right about accepting whatever food and water they offered – she’d found out twice now that they were both willing and able to force it on her. At least if she took it without a fight, it was one less excuse for them to beat her.

  ‘How are your wounds healing?’ Dell asked.

  Keriath glared at him. ‘Why? Bored already?’

  Dell said nothing, shrugging to concede her point. His eyes were tracking Maren as she arranged her Hunt around the camp. Drosta was at her side, but sensing their gazes on him, he glanced over her head and rolled his eyes at his second. Dell chuckled then seemed to catch himself and snatched the water skin from Keriath’s hands.

  Drosta frowned, and he bowed his head to murmur something in Maren’s ear. She smiled at whatever he said and nodded, before calling to some of her Hunt and vanishing back into the forest. Drosta sighed, looking relieved, and came to join them.

  ‘That bitch is running me ragged,’ he complained, holding his hand out for the water.

  Dell snorted, passing the skin. ‘Aye, it must be such a hardship.’

  Drosta’s face split into an evil smile that sent shivers down Keriath’s spine. ‘She’s not my type. Gods, how I’d love to make her scream.’

  ‘She screams plenty,’ Dell noted, arching a sardonic eyebrow.

  Drosta pulled a face. ‘I know. It’s enough to make your ears bleed.’

  ‘I thought you liked screamers.’ Dell laughed, digging around in his pack.

  Drosta grunted, eyeing Keriath with a speculative gleam that made her uneasy.

  ‘Aye, but screams of pain are far sweeter than screams of pleasure,’ She looked away, trying to hide the wave of revulsion that swept through her, but judging by his dark laugh, she didn’t succeed. With a deep breath to quell her rebellious stomach, she turned to meet his gaze. He smirked at the defiance there but said nothing as he looked back to his second. ‘We’re already late to meet Mazron’s agent. We don’t have time to deliver this one to Dar Kual and get back to the Wings – we’ll have to take her with us.’

  ‘Not to Illyol then?’ Dell asked. Keriath’s interest pricked. Why had they been heading for Illyol? It didn’t make any sense.

  Drosta shot him a sharp look. ‘No. We can’t risk a confrontation. We don’t have the numbers to ensure it goes cleanly. And Maren’s seen her now, so it would raise too many questions if we didn’t deliver her to the Queens.’

  ‘Zorana will be pissed,’ noted Dell, more to himself than anyone else. Keriath forced herself not to react. She knew that name. Zorana was a Shade Princess, a high-ranking member of the Shade Court and strong enough to be a serious threat to the King were she so inclined. She and her brother both. Keriath had recognised that name too. Prince Mazron was well known to those who had survived the Fall. He hunted them with an unholy passion. And Drosta was working for them? Interesting …

  ‘Well, there’s not much we can do about it now. Maren’s not the sharpest tool in the box, but even she could put it together if I gifted a prize like that to a Shade. Zorana can make do with another one. If her pet knew where to find this one, he’ll know where we can find others.’ Keriath stilled. Though she kept her eyes on the ground, the sudden tension in her body drew Drosta’s gaze back to her. He gripped her chin between his fingers and forced her face up to look at him. ‘Breathe a word of anything you heard, and it’ll be you screaming beneath me next,’ he said, his voice soft but even more dangerous for it.

  The threat of violence in his eyes mixed with barely restrained lust made her want to cower in fear. But she held his gaze, daring him to risk staring too long at her face and losing himself in the process. His hand slipped to her throat, and he squeezed in warning. A movement over his shoulder drew Keriath’s attention, and she smirked.

  ‘Your lover wants you,’ she breathed. ‘Time to go back to playing the whore.’

  Drosta’s lips pulled back in a silent snarl, and he shoved her away. ‘You keep her with you at all times – you don’t even leave her alone long enough to take a piss. And keep her away from Maren and the rest of her Hunt,’ he snapped at Dell, before turning and stalking back to the freshly fed Huntress.

  ‘You’re taking your life in your hands, taunting him like that,’ Dell warned, hauling her to her feet and dragging her towards his tent. Keriath snorted and rolled her eyes. With a sigh of exasperation, he pushed her into the tent and threw some food in after her. He followed her in but sat down as far away from her as he could. Then he gestured for her to take
his bedroll and settled himself facing the entrance, as if to guard her while she slept. ‘I’m serious. Keep pushing, and he might just snap. I don’t think you realise what your blood does to us. There’s enough power in your veins to drive him mad on a good day, and he’s not likely to have one of those with Maren around.’

  ‘Your master was mad long before he tasted me,’ she pointed out.

  He shrugged but didn’t dispute her statement.

  ‘Darkling magic does that.’

  ‘What? Makes men into monsters?’

  ‘He’s always been that way,’ he said, ‘always enjoyed hurting people. The Claiming just gave him the freedom to act on his impulses.’

  Keriath was stunned into silence for a while. ‘He chose this?’

  ‘He wanted power so he could do whatever he pleased without having to answer for his crimes. And since he wasn’t Graced, this was the next best option,’ he said with a bitter smile.

  ‘At what cost?’ she breathed.

  Dell shrugged. ‘He’d pay a price a thousand times steeper than the one he paid for this power,’ he told her. ‘He loves this life. Wouldn’t change it for anything. Now go to sleep.’

  Keriath rolled over and pulled a hide around herself as she repressed a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. Drosta was the monster she should have feared as a child – a vicious beast who would do anything for power and control. Alexan had proved that not all Darklings were pure evil … perhaps Drosta proved that not all evil came from Darklings.

  She shuddered again and closed her eyes. Sleep would not come easily.

  Dell roused Keriath with a gentle shake of her shoulder. Well, all things were relative, she reminded herself, studying the partially healed cuts and bruises on her arms.