by Jen McIntosh
Children’s laughter chimed beyond the wall where they played in the fields. Alec the blacksmith was working in his forge, and the sound of his hammer ringing on the anvil echoed through the castle. The shepherd boy was whistling for his dog as he rounded up the sheep in the pasture, and there was the gentle lowing of cattle in the sheds nearby. Farran’s steady, reassuring voice drifted over from the training ring, punctuated by the sound of wood striking wood, and made her heart swell with tenderness.
She opened her eyes and saw Erion grin as he blocked an overhand blow from Farran. His eyes were bright, and there was a rosy flush to his cheeks she had not seen in a long time. She could see the pride and happiness on Farran’s face too when he praised Erion for his rapid improvements. She looked down at the children curled up beside her. Suriya was dozing, like a cat basking in the sun, while Lucan was watching Erion and Farran.
As she considered what to do about the children’s broken relationships, a movement from the other side of the courtyard drew her gaze. Lord Alvar and the Lady stepped out of the castle. Lord Alvar carried a pack over his shoulder and was dressed for riding. Lucan stiffened when he saw it, the tension waking Suriya from her nap. She glowered in suspicion but said nothing as her mother and father approached.
Lord Alvar was watching Erion and Farran sparring in the ring with unashamed envy in his eyes. The Lady noted it, and Renila could have sworn she saw a glimmer of guilt.
‘Are you going riding, my Lord?’ Renila asked.
He grimaced at the address but left it alone.
‘Aye,’ he said. The Lady did not look at him, but Renila could see the regret weighing heavy on her shoulders. Renila gave him a look that said he wasn’t fooling anyone, and he sighed. But instead of telling the twins the truth, he only looked back over his shoulder at Erion with Farran again. His stunning eyes glittered with unshed tears as he watched them together.
‘Why don’t you join them?’ the Lady blurted. Lord Alvar eyed her with mistrust and incredulity, but she nodded. ‘Take Lucan too,’ she added, clearly noting the expression of betrayal on Lucan’s face. Lord Alvar gave a rare smile that might, under different circumstances and directed at her, have taken Renila’s breath away. He dropped his pack beside the bench and held a hand out to Lucan.
‘Come on,’ he said, grinning. Lucan let out a whoop of excitement and bounded to his feet. But as his father turned towards the training ring, Lucan stopped and looked back at Suriya.
‘Can Suriya come too?’ he asked. Lord Alvar glanced at Renila, and Suriya tensed under Renila’s arm. But Renila nodded, and smiled at Lucan’s sacrifice. And it was a sacrifice. He was so desperate to prove himself to his father, yet here he was, offering to share the chance with his sister.
‘Of course,’ said Lord Alvar.
‘But—’ the Lady began.
Alvar interrupted her. ‘She should be able to defend herself,’ he said. ‘Unless you’d rather teach her yourself?’
‘Mother doesn’t know how to fight!’ Lucan cried in disbelief.
Alvar snorted. ‘The Lady Gaelan is the best swordsman—’ He broke off as she huffed in protest. ‘Sorry, swordswoman, in this entire castle.’
‘Now you’re just being ridiculous,’ the Lady scoffed, but she waved Suriya towards the training ring. ‘Go on. He’s right – they’re skills you need, perhaps even more than your brother.’
Suriya frowned, and Renila saw the suspicion and distrust in her golden eyes, but the girl followed Lord Alvar and Lucan towards the training ring without comment. It was just as well she’d worn trousers today, Renila noted.
The Lady sighed and sat beside Renila while they watched Alvar and the twins join Farran and Erion.
‘He’s leaving then?’ Renila asked.
‘Yes.’
‘He must tell them,’ said Renila. ‘Leaving without a word will break their hearts.’
‘I know,’ the Lady murmured. They both fell quiet for a long time as they watched Lord Alvar show both Lucan and Suriya how to grip their mock swords and test the weight of them. Though Farran looked less than happy about Lord Alvar’s presence in his training ring, distaste turned to grudging respect when Lord Alvar led them through a series of basic drills. Then respect gave way to wonder, Farran’s eyes growing wide with awe as Lord Alvar drew his own sword – a long, elegant blade, engraved with beautiful, swirling patterns – to demonstrate a particular manoeuvre. After that, the children begged him to show them more and, for once, he obliged.
His movements were as mesmerising as his eyes. Renila had never seen someone move with such grace and elegance, and yet despite the beauty, he was deadly, slipping from one place to another with lethal precision. It was breathtaking to watch.
‘Why the sudden change of heart?’ Renila whispered.
The Lady didn’t take her eyes off the scene in front of her as she said in a weary voice, ‘Life is too short.’ Lord Alvar glanced up from his exercises as if he’d heard her, though that was impossible. His eyes were shining with tears, and he nodded. In agreement or understanding or even thanks, Renila wasn’t sure.
‘Not for you,’ murmured Renila, though she wasn’t sure what made her say it.
The Lady glanced at her. ‘No. Not for me,’ she admitted. Then she sighed. ‘You should take the boy inside. It’ll go easier on him if you’re both out of sight.’
Renila nodded in understanding, and the Lady called out to Farran. At the Lady’s request, he and Erion left the ring and escorted Renila back to her rooms. And though she faced forward, refusing to look back, Renila knew that Lord Alvar’s eyes never left her as she disappeared into the shadow of the castle.
Chapter Eighteen
The tall, black-eyed man with the warrior braids and tattooed face looked distinctly out of place in a library. He was too big, too wild for the dusty shelves and scholarly splendour of the palatial room. The ceiling was high and vaulted, supported on carved pillars and all of it decorated in exquisite detail. Painted panels, gilt cornicing, marble effigies. Every inch oozed with ancient opulence.
Yet there was no discomfort in his posture as he lounged in a leather-clad armchair by the fireplace, a hefty tome in one hand, a cut-crystal glass in the other. He was alone, save for the snow-white wolf sprawled at his feet like a loyal hound. And despite the vastness of the room, here by the hearth, with the flames crackling and the perfume of woodsmoke and whisky, there was a certain welcoming warmth that not even the iciest voice could chill.
And the voice that shattered the silence was the coldest he had heard in a very long time.
‘That was your idea of helping was it?’
The man smirked slightly but did not raise his gaze from the book in his hand when the white-haired woman stepped into the room, appearing as if from thin air. The wolf looked up, glancing between her master and the woman, and huffed a long-suffering sigh. Rising, she stretched and yawned before padding round to sit at her master’s side, nudging at his hand until he stroked an absent hand through her fur.
‘Hello, Mother. How are you?’
‘Don’t play games with me, Layol,’ she hissed. ‘You have no idea how complicated you have made matters with your stupidity.’
‘My stupidity?’ he asked mildly, sipping from his glass. ‘I’m not the one demonstrating powers I shouldn’t have. If someone catches you here …’
She growled, baring her teeth at him. ‘I wouldn’t need to take such chances had you actually done as I’d asked!’
He sighed, rolling his eyes and putting the book down. ‘You asked for help. I sent you some. If you don’t like what I sent, maybe next time be more specific?’
‘She is burning up,’ she said. ‘Again. Of all the people you could have sent, you picked the one person she loved enough to dredge her past back to the surface? What were you thinking?’
‘I was thinking that you want her and the boy dead, and his presence might be the only thing that would stop you.’
‘You really think I’m
capable of that?’
‘I’ve seen you do worse.’
She pursed her lips but didn’t dispute it. ‘He left. Last night. Once he realised the danger to her if he stayed … but the damage is done, Layol. The boy can stay with me a little longer, but she must leave soon.’
‘She’ll never agree to that.’
‘She doesn’t have a choice. She’s a danger to herself now. If we don’t act, not even the Rising will save her.’
Layol was silent for a long time, staring hard at his mother, his knuckles as white as the wolf fur in his fist. Then, after what seemed like an age, he took a deep breath and loosened his grip.
‘Very well. Get her ready. I will be there as soon as I can with her stone to escort her back to Khaladron. Whether she wants it or not.’
The sun was long past set. Suriya stared out of her bedroom window, mind churning. The storm that had loomed for days had finally come. Thunder rumbled overhead, and she could see neither the moon nor the stars for the thick blanket of cloud.
Lord Alvar was gone – vanished into the darkness with the setting sun two nights ago – and with him, all hope of ever learning the truth. But it had been enough. Thanks to him, she’d seen the heart of the Lady. The woman who had lied to them their entire lives with her false claims of motherhood. The woman who had hidden their powers from them, kept them ignorant to keep them obedient. The woman who would have thrown Renila to the wolves rather than ever see her happy.
She knew Lucan had seen something different. He had seen a woman who loved them fiercely, a woman who would do anything to keep them safe. A woman who had been hurt and was forced to act the way she did to protect herself from further pain.
But both women could not coexist within one heart. The lie was too great for Suriya to forgive. Worse, she knew it would be more than Lucan could ever bear. Though she longed to tell him the truth, Suriya could not bring herself to shatter his illusions. She’d sooner turn a knife on her own heart.
With a heavy sigh, she turned her eyes skyward. Once, she would have shared her secrets with Erion, but he’d been so distant since the Ravenswood. Not that she blamed him. He thought they’d betrayed him. That they’d allowed him to take the blame rather than face their mother’s wrath. She clenched her teeth so hard her jaw hurt. Another of the Lady’s schemes, designed to drive a wedge between the twins and the ones they loved.
Lord Alvar had shone a light on the twisted reality the Lady had spun in her mind. Erion was right. Suriya had faced and killed a Darkling to save her brother. And rather than help them, the woman who claimed to be their mother had poisoned their minds so they would never remember. But – either because of Renila’s fierce protection or for some other game of the Lady’s – Erion’s mind was untouched. So he’d taken the blame and, buried beneath the fog of magic, Suriya couldn’t help him.
No wonder he’d avoided her since. She hated herself for what had happened; it was hardly surprising he felt the same way. But she couldn’t confess to him now, not when it risked turning the Lady’s eye on him again. And she couldn’t tell Renila – not now she’d found some happiness in whatever it was she shared with Farran. She couldn’t risk bringing the Lady’s wrath down on any of them.
No. She would have to carry this burden alone.
Thunder cracked, closer this time. Suriya allowed herself a small but feral smile. The fire flickered in the hearth behind her, as if in response to the trill of power that surged through her with the storm.
A bolt of lightning split the sky in front of her, and her heart skipped a beat when light flooded the edge of the forest. Because there was a black-haired rider, mounted on a massive white stallion, thundering towards the castle with reckless abandon.
Lord Alvar had returned.
Lucan’s mother was fussing, but he didn’t mind. He just watched in bemusement while she moved around his room. She folded his clothes and tidied his things away, drawing the curtains and adding another log to the fire, murmuring a song under her breath. A bittersweet smile tugged at his lips. There’d been a price to pay for this newfound connection with his mother. It was as if the distance between the Lady and Renila were fixed, and he could only move between them. The closer he got to one, the further he drifted from the other.
He sighed. It wasn’t just Renila, or even his friendship with Erion, that he missed. Suriya was … different. She’d been distant since their father left. Like she’d retreated inside herself and closed the door behind her. No matter what he’d tried, he couldn’t draw her out. He couldn’t even read her the same way he used to.
‘Why such a heavy sigh?’ his mother asked, sitting on the bed beside him.
‘It’s nothing.’ Lucan shrugged. She gave him a sceptical look but didn’t press any further. ‘What was that song you were humming?’
She looked away. ‘It’s a lullaby. My mother sang it to me as a child, and I sang it to mine.’
‘I didn’t know you could sing?’ he asked, sure he’d never heard it before.
‘You were too young to remember,’ she murmured, staring into the fire.
On impulse, Lucan took her hand in his. ‘Sing it for me now?’
The Lady glanced at him with a peculiar look in her eyes. She smiled sadly but nodded and did as she was bid. The words were not in a language that Lucan recognised. Though the delicate notes were gentle enough to be a lullaby, something told him it was not for the ears of mortal children. He didn’t understand them, but he could hear the longing, the ancient sadness and unending grief in the words. His mother’s voice was beautiful – rich and powerful, soaring to the highest notes, and sweeter than a nightingale. He’d never heard anything like it.
She fell silent. He could see the tears clinging to her long, dark lashes, and he squeezed her hand in his. She glanced down at him, her gaze tender, and smiled.
A familiar voice from the door shattered the silence. ‘I didn’t think I’d ever hear that song grace your lips again,’ it said, heavy with emotions that Lucan could not even name. He looked around. Lord Alvar stood in the doorway, his eyes shining with unshed tears. The Lady swirled to her feet as he continued. ‘I didn’t think you’d sing again, not for all eternity. I’m glad I was wrong.’
She eyed him warily, and though she relaxed, Lucan could see the defensive set to her shoulders.
‘He asked. You never did,’ was all she said. ‘Why did you come back?’
Lord Alvar’s gaze was bleak. ‘Darklings. They’ve found a crack in the outer wards. They’re headed this way.’
‘What?’ Lucan barked, scrabbling from his bed. They ignored him.
‘How?’
Lord Alvar snarled. ‘I don’t know, Gaelan. Maybe it’s because this keep is bursting at the seams with power, and Darklings can scent magic from a hundred miles away. But that’s just a theory.’
‘The wards should have hidden it—’ she objected.
But Lord Alvar cut her off. ‘Well, they didn’t. So we need to leave. Now.’
‘And go where?’ Lucan’s mother snapped. ‘This is the safest place for us. The wards are strong, and the guards are well trained.’
Lord Alvar stepped closer. ‘For fuck’s sake, Gaelan, it’s a Graced Hunt. A big one. And there’s a Shade with them.’ His mother’s eyes widened in shock, and she sat down sharply. Lucan looked between the two of them in confusion, but his father continued. ‘We have to leave, right now. Get him dressed, get Suriya, and make for the stables. I’ll get Renila and Erion and meet you there. Then we make for home. I’ve had the horses readied and loaded up with everything we need for the journey.’
His words seemed to snap the Lady back to herself, and she stood, shaking off her shock.
‘That city is not my home. I am not abandoning this place and the people it shelters,’ she said. ‘They’re mortal, Alvar; they don’t stand a chance without us.’
‘Damn it, Gaelan,’ yelled Lord Alvar. The room shook as thunder reverberated through the keep, and lightning sparked
over his body, so bright that it obscured him from sight. But then it diminished, like a thunderstorm churning beneath his skin. Lucan swore. Magic. Like the kind in Renila’s stories.
‘What are you?’ he breathed. Lord Alvar’s eyes, now burning with the same storm that covered him, flickered between Lucan and his mother. He took a deep breath and then the storm was gone. Once again, Lord Alvar ignored him and turned back to the Lady.
‘You don’t have a choice. A large Graced Hunt could overpower either of us. They’ll drain us dry. Are you willing to risk giving them that power? Are you willing to risk letting Sephiron’s heir know that our kind still walk the earth? Because one look at us, and that Shade is going to go running straight back to his master and tell him everything.’
‘I can’t do it, Alvar. I cannot leave all these people to be fed upon by a scourge I vowed to destroy.’
Lord Alvar shook his head in frustration. ‘We’ve been here before. You can’t save everyone, Gaelan. There’s always a cost.’
They stared each other down while the silence stretched into eternity. Lucan couldn’t look away, even if it felt like he was intruding on a private moment. Lord – if that was even truly his title – Alvar was not human … and his mother … she was more than he could have ever imagined. They belonged to a world far away. A world of magic and destruction. And now that this world was intruding on his own, he realised he wanted nothing to do with it.
Alvar crumbled. ‘Alright. But we can’t hold forever. The best we’ll manage is to give them time to escape and then draw the Hunt away.’
‘And then?’
He pulled a face. ‘I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.’
‘Just like old times,’ she said with a smirk.
There was no humour in Alvar’s answering glare as he opened the door. ‘Let’s get this over with.’
‘Will one of you tell me what is happening?’ Lucan shouted, frustration breaking through his self-control. He flinched as Alvar rounded on him. The storm-eyed man winced at the reaction and attempted to restrain his temper.
