by Jen McIntosh
‘I don’t know,’ was the dark reply.
‘Dorrien?’ whispered Faolin.
‘Hush,’ Dorrien murmured. ‘Théon’s here now; you’re going to be alright.’ There was a hiss of a sword slipping back into a scabbard as Théon sheathed her blade. Then a pause, followed by the quiet rush of a Casting that made the hairs on Alexan’s arms stand up on end.
A low groan escaped Faolin, then he sighed with relief. ‘Thank you,’ he said, his voice low with exhaustion. There was a pause before he asked. ‘Théon? What is it?’
‘You should be dead, Faolin,’ Théon said.
‘What? How …’ asked Dorrien, trailing off in confusion.
‘I don’t know,’ said Théon. ‘But someone must have intervened. Otherwise, we’d be kneeling over a corpse.’
‘The Darkling?’ said Dorrien.
There was a rustle of fabric as someone shrugged.
‘I thought it was a dream,’ murmured Faolin, more to himself than to the others.
‘What?’ Dorrien’s voice was sharp with worry.
‘Last night … I thought it was a dream. It can’t have been real.’
‘What was it, Faolin?’ Théon asked.
‘An Elf,’ he said, his voice hushed with reverence. ‘I mean, he must have been. He used the Casting, but there was something strange about it. It felt different. Powerful but wrong. But he burned away the poison. And then he just … left.’
Alexan scratched absently at the palm of his hand.
‘It doesn’t make sense,’ Dorrien began.
But Théon cut her off. ‘It doesn’t matter. We need to get out of here,’ she said. ‘Are you strong enough to move?’ she asked Faolin.
‘I’ll manage.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Dorrien protested. ‘Théon, you can’t be serious? He’s barely healed!’
‘I’m fine,’ Faolin insisted. And sure enough, when he appeared a few moments later, he looked fit and healthy once more. Fierce yellow eyes flashed in the sunlight, marks glittering as he stretched and flexed his powerful arms, yawning. A small part of Alexan shuddered. An animalistic instinct that any creature felt in the presence of its predator.
‘What’s the matter?’ asked Théon as she joined Faolin, turning to Dorrien who followed with a sullen frown on her pretty face. ‘No faith in me? Don’t think I’m strong enough to heal such a grievous wound?’
Faolin snorted, prompting Dorrien to hiss and throw her pack at his face with enough force to make him stagger, before storming away. Yes, Sil Dorrien was more than a figurehead.
‘Thanks,’ Faolin was muttering to Théon. Her mischievous smile faded as she turned her attention to him.
‘Don’t thank me yet,’ she warned him. She jerked her chin at the Nighthills on the other side of the loch. ‘You’re walking. I’m not having you ruining my handiwork by Changing too soon.’
Faolin’s expression grew rebellious, and he opened his mouth to argue, but when Théon fixed him with a murderous look, he seemed to change his mind.
Alexan didn’t blame him. Théon was nothing like the shy girl he remembered. Nothing like her sweet, forgiving mother. Anxiety churned in his gut. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it as Dorrien Changed once more into the gleaming white and grey sea hawk and launched herself skyward. He swallowed a curse as Faolin and Théon set off in pursuit: an aerial scout was going to make following more difficult. Just as well the Shade King had chosen him for this task. No one else in his inner circle would have the patience.
Alexan was exhausted by the time they stopped for the night, and desperate for blood. His head felt like it was being split open with a blunt axe, and every breath was like a knife in his side. The curse of the Claiming. The same magic that made him stronger and faster, sharpened his senses and made him so much harder to kill, was itself killing him. It was a poison in his veins, consuming the life-force of his blood. The only way to survive was to steal more, but he daren’t. Mortals made an awful racket when confronted by anyone with red eyes.
Dorrien seemed just as exhausted as he was, so he doubted they’d go anywhere soon. Her Change was sluggish, and she staggered as she adjusted to feet rather than wings. Faolin caught her right before she collapsed, and he carried her the rest of the way.
‘You’ll reopen the wound,’ Dorrien protested.
The long, flat stare Faolin afforded her was resolute. Alexan tried not to grin. They were almost as bad as each other. ‘Stay there,’ he ordered, lowering her to the ground. Dorrien glared at him but did as she was told. Then he joined Théon and began raking through her pack for food and blankets. ‘She’s exhausted.’
‘And you’re not?’
But Faolin scowled at her. ‘We shouldn’t have pushed so hard today,’ he argued. Théon waved a dismissive hand, rolling her eyes in exasperation. Faolin snarled. Alexan didn’t blame him. Her flippancy was irritating. She’d been more sincere when he’d last seen her. ‘I’m serious, Théon – she hasn’t slept in days. She needs rest.’
‘She’s getting it now,’ Théon snapped. ‘I’m not an idiot, Faolin. I set the slowest pace I could get away with today. But Dorrien was desperate to get away from there. We’ll be back within the wards soon enough, but until then, we need to stay alert. I’ll take the first watch.’
Faolin snarled again and stalked over to Dorrien with food and a thick blanket. It was a sign of just how exhausted Dorrien was that she fell asleep within moments. Alexan resisted the urge to snort at the way Faolin’s expression softened as he leaned over to tuck the blanket tighter around her slim shoulders. Tenderness from a Dragon was a jarring sight.
‘She’ll be fine,’ Théon assured him.
‘I know,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry about earlier. It just frustrates me when I’m not able to look after her.’
Théon shrugged to show her indifference to his outburst. ‘We do what we have to, for the people we love.’
‘I’m responsible for her.’
The look Théon fixed him with was piercing, and Alexan was glad that ferocious gaze was not on him. ‘She’s capable of looking after herself.’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘It’s just … hard. After all we’ve lost, I can’t lose her too.’
Théon smiled and nodded. ‘I understand. Now get some sleep. I’ll wake you in a few hours.’
‘You told Dorrien she had second watch,’ Faolin reminded, even as his eyelids drooped with exhaustion. Théon smirked again, and Alexan felt his irritation rise once more. Was she incapable of being serious?
‘I lied,’ she confided in him with a wink. ‘Just let her sleep – you were right, she needs the rest.’ Faolin rolled his eyes at Théon’s scheme, before wrapping himself in his cloak and going to sleep.
It was not the last of her lies. She didn’t wake either Faolin or Dorrien. She kept watch herself all night long. And Alexan watched her. Considered the impudent, swaggering woman she’d become. The King would be so proud …
Dawn was long past when Faolin stirred, and the look he gave Théon was filled with pure venom. He opened his mouth to chastise her, but she winked, stood and sauntered off into the forest. His restraint was impressive. Alexan wasn’t sure he could have controlled himself in Faolin’s shoes. His fingers were already twitching for her throat.
By the time she returned, Faolin had woken Dorrien, and they’d broken their fast with some bread and cheese from Théon’s pack. He handed the remaining third of the loaf to her in silence, and even Dorrien did not seem happy to see her. Théon took it with a smile, oblivious to the sour countenances of her travelling companions. The mood had not lightened by the time she was finished, but there was no hint of remorse on her face. Alexan took a deep breath. At what point in the last century had she become so infuriating?
Faolin stayed in his mortal form as they moved out, while Dorrien once more took to the skies to scout ahead. She flew in regular circles above them while they trudged ever onward. They co
ntinued on for days, pausing to rest every so often. It was slow going. Despite their breaks, Dorrien was still exhausted, and Faolin hadn’t regained his full strength. Alexan followed at a safe distance, glad for their slow pace as weariness sank further into his bones.
If they spoke at all in the days that followed, he didn’t hear it. He could rarely get close enough, and when he did, he was too preoccupied with not being spotted. Théon clearly knew she was being followed. She tested him, leading them on and off the paths, through streams and even across a sizeable river at one point. But he had her scent now, and it was beyond her skill to evade him. Not when he’d taught her everything she knew.
It took three days to cross the mountains. It was hard going, but he knew the end was in sight when he crested the hill and looked down on the city of Shadowbriar in the valley below. Mortals had built their homes amongst the ruins of the ancient Immortal city. No doubt believing some lingering remnant of Immortal magic would keep them safe from monsters like him. Fools. Darklings could sniff out life from miles away, and the denser the population, the greater the draw.
Alexan wasn’t surprised when Théon avoided the town, skirting round the tops of the hills through the remote edges of the ruins as she led them north. She had more sense than to make her home here – too many eyes to see things they shouldn’t, too many voices to raise questions better left unanswered. But it would not be far now.
Then he saw it. Nestled in a secluded glen, surrounded by steep slopes coated in woodland on three sides and a river on the fourth, was a small farmhouse. It was built of roughly cut sandstone, with a thatched roof. Animals browsed in an adjacent paddock and crops grew in the south-facing fields.
He stopped a healthy distance away. The house was warded. A Casting of protection, drawing on natural ley lines of magic. Strong enough to keep out any mortal Hunt, and perhaps more even than that. But they wouldn’t keep out the King.
But sitting high in the hills above the glen, he could see and hear all he needed. There was a young woman working in the garden by the house, who started with surprise as Théon passed through the wards and called out in greeting. The woman dropped the basket in her hands and ran, flying over the ground, golden hair streaming out behind her. But it was not to Théon she ran. She collided with Kah Faolin, throwing her arms around his neck as she sobbed with relief.
Even from this distance, Alexan could see the love and wonder clear on Faolin’s unyielding face. Could hear the sharp sigh of astonishment that broke from his lips as he dropped his pack, folding the woman into his arms and murmuring reassurance in her ear. She buried her face in his shoulder, trembling while he held her. Tears streamed down his cheeks as they clung to each other, shaking from the force of their emotions.
‘What about me?’ Dorrien said to the young woman, her voice strained with mock outrage. Giggling, the woman extricated herself from Kah Faolin, dashing away her tears with the back of her hand. Then she threw herself at Sil Dorrien, and the two women crashed to the ground, squealing with happiness at their reunion. Théon shook her head and left them to it, taking the pack from Faolin with a knowing look before continuing down towards the house. Faolin blushed but said nothing as he helped his sister and the girl to their feet, and the three of them descended the rest of the way, arm in arm.
Alexan ignored the twinge of jealousy as he watched. Pushed aside the memories of times gone by when he’d cared for anyone so much that just seeing them alive and unhurt could bring him to tears. Tried not to think how long it had been since laughter – true, unburdened laughter – had left his lips. Refused to consider how much he ached to feel those things again. Buried his grief deep, before it could overwhelm him.
He recognised the girl. of course. Illyandi. Théon’s half-sister. Princess of Illyol. She’d been, what, four years old the last time he’d seen her? Five? Those huge, wide eyes staring out at him from a tear-stained face. Her mother’s eyes.
Gods, she looked so much like her mother. Far more than Théon. She was taller than her sister. More slender. Softer. Spirited, but with none of the ferocity Théon had inherited from the King. And that braid of wheat-coloured hair tumbling over her shoulder … identical to the one he’d always yearned to touch. To run his fingers through. To see spread across his chest while she slept.
He pulled himself up short. She’d never been his to consider that way – he wasn’t about to think of her daughter like that.
The Shade King was a sick bastard.
His attention was dragged back to the farmhouse below as an old man greeted Théon at the door. His hair and close-cropped beard were silver with age. He was tall and still had the bearing of a warrior, but his shoulders stooped, and he leaned heavily on his staff. Little wonder when almost the entirety of his left leg was missing, his trouser leg folded up over the stump of what remained.
He also bore the star-mark of the Unicorn on his brow. Alexan let out a sharp breath. It explained why, despite his age, he was still stunningly handsome. Why those remarkable violet eyes were so bewitching. Alexan frowned. That bloodline was meant to be extinct. Keriath was the last – her and her idiot brother. The rest had been slaughtered by the Shade King’s forces during the Fall. It was a complication. The Enchanting was a far more dangerous and elusive power than he was used to combating. The King relied on another to deal with that magic. He’d have to guard his mind well.
‘Silvermane,’ Théon said in greeting, inclining her head as she breezed past him into the house.
The old man glowered. ‘I hope you brought dinner,’ he called after her, his voice caustic. Alexan just caught Théon’s reply as it floated through an open window, the sweet, singsong tone at odds with the obscenity she offered him. The old man rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to retort when the Princess Illyandi danced up to him and planted a kiss on his furry cheek.
‘They’re alright,’ she said, her lovely face still stained with tears. Alexan took a deep, steadying breath. This was torture. The Shade King must be punishing him for something to make him endure this.
He tried not to think about it while he watched the old man pull Sil Dorrien into a rough embrace. ‘It’s good to see you,’ he was saying, his voice hoarse. She let out a small sob as she clung to him, and Alexan swore the old man’s eyes were damp as he kissed the top of her head. Then he released her, and he held her at arm’s length, looking her up and down. ‘Go inside and get some rest,’ he said, pushing her into the house. Illyandi followed, and Alexan almost sighed in relief. How was he going to endure this pain every day for the foreseeable future?
Then the old man turned to Faolin and extended his hand. The two men gripped each other’s forearms in greeting, and Faolin clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder.
‘It’s good to see you too, old man,’ he said with a wry smile.
‘Less of the old,’ Silvermane admonished, cuffing him about the head. ‘Now rest and then wash up for supper. You can tell me all about it then.’ Faolin nodded in agreement and trudged inside. Silvermane cast a long, sweeping look across the surrounding hills before he too went inside and closed the door behind him.
Alexan loosed a breath as he looked down at the little croft. He’d found her. A hundred years the King had been searching for her, and he’d just found her. Almost by accident. He lay back and looked up at the darkening sky.
Except it hadn’t been by accident. The King had sent him north, with specific instructions to search the Ravenswood. Alexan had had more sense than to question it, even if uncertainty had sat like a weight in his gut. The King never sent anyone important to search for Théon: it was dangerous hunting, and they rarely returned. Alexan was too valuable to waste on a whim. But even in his privileged position as one of the King’s inner circle, Alexan wasn’t told everything. He didn’t know why he’d been sent to the Ravenswood, or why the King had chosen that moment to go after Théon.
But instinct told him it was far from coincidence that he’d found one daughter in that forest.
Nor was he arrogant enough to believe his skill had allowed him to hunt down the other where so many others had failed. He sensed the Shade King’s hand in all of it and trembled to consider the implications. The power required.
He took another breath, centring himself. In the grand scheme of things, the why did not matter. What mattered was that he had a purpose, a reason for hunting her down, and now he was able to accomplish it.
But first. He had a few hours, and he needed blood. He rolled to his feet, stowed his pack amongst some rocks and set off at a jog to find someone to quench his thirst.
Mortal prey, it transpired, was hard to find on the edges of the rugged Nighthills. He didn’t fancy raiding Shadowbriar in his current state, and people were few beyond the safety of the ruins. It was just pure chance that he happened upon a pair of lovers coupling in the forest.
Perhaps it was the memory of those evergreen eyes that made him feel something akin to regret when he struck. But he’d spent a hundred years giving in to his darkest impulses, darker now than ever, and it was to those that he surrendered as he tore the boy away. The girl screamed, the shrill noise so piercing to Alexan’s sensitive ears that he winced. But he grinned as he bent his head and tore into the boy’s throat. He watched her stagger to her feet and run while he drank, anticipation thrumming through his veins. They were weak – he would need to drain them both to slake his thirst.
He felt nothing at all when he dropped the boy’s corpse on the forest floor minutes later. The starving Darkling was in control now, and he laughed as he inhaled the scent of his fleeing prey. He didn’t always need to kill to survive, but sometimes it was unavoidable. Times like now when he was so thirsty, so desperate, that he lacked the control to stop before killing victims. And sometimes, it was just enjoyable. He’d learned long ago not to stop to think, to just let the monster have its fun. There were days, like today, when it just needed some release for the frustration and suffering it had endured. If he let the beast run wild and hunt down this girl now, there was more chance he could stay in control of it later.
