by Jen McIntosh
‘That explains why you brought him within the wards,’ the old man growled when she was finished, ‘but not why you didn’t kill him when you realised your mistake.’
‘Were you not listening? He saved my life. It would be tempting fate to repay that mercy with murder.’
‘The mercy would have been to free him from his own fate,’ argued Silvermane. ‘It’s what you were born to do.’
‘What you were born to do,’ she corrected. ‘As you so kindly reminded me earlier, my situation is somewhat different.’
The old man bristled. ‘That fate is behind you. You have a new destiny now.’
‘I’m aware of that, and grateful for it too.’ Alexan could scent the lie. Taste the unspoken bitterness lacing her words. The same unsaid resentment that had so often coloured his own voice. It chafed at her, to speak of gratitude for a destiny she never chose, a destiny forced upon her. ‘But as distasteful as it is, my heritage allows me to look beyond blood prejudice and the inclination towards violence that comes with it. When you look at him, you see only the magic corrupting him. I see it too, but it’s not all I see.’
The old man was quiet for a while, considering her – reluctantly, if his expression was anything to go by, but he was considering.
‘And what is it you see when you look at him?’ he asked.
Théon’s lovely face was unyielding. ‘I see the man who helped me when no one else would, who taught me control when I had none. The man who snatched Illyandi and I from the edge of the abyss. Who pulled us from our beds that night and hid us while they hunted us. Who smuggled us from the city when the dawn broke, shielding us from all the horrors the Fall had left behind. The man who defended our retreat, buying us whatever time he could while we fled. Who then hunted down the monster responsible for my mother’s death – knowing he was outmatched, that his cause was hopeless, that it would cost him everything; I see the man who tried anyway.’
‘You see a fool then.’
‘I see strength. I see persistence. I see integrity.’
Alexan flinched from the words. From the praise he had not earned. Fortunately, no one seemed to notice. Silvermane had fallen quiet once more, his brow twisted in reluctance.
‘Alright,’ he conceded, though the word was clearly a bitter taste in his mouth. Alexan tried not to smirk at his obvious discomfort. ‘But I have to question whether it is prudent for him to accompany us any further. Regardless of who he was, he is a Darkling now – slave to the Claiming. To your father. Not to mention his thirst. You must recognise the danger he poses? To you. To your sister.’
The look Théon returned was so withering Alexan counted his blessings he wasn’t on the receiving end of it. ‘Of course I recognise the danger. But I have to weigh it against the other threats we might face. Outside the wards, we’re exposed. Vulnerable. I might be able to hold my own, but it wouldn’t take much for us to be outnumbered. Illyandi’s no fighter, and you were past your prime when Velor sat on the Oak Throne.’
‘Watch it,’ the old bastard growled.
She ignored him. ‘If what Kieyin said is true, the King’s known where to find me for years. I don’t know why he’s chosen now to come after me, but he won’t give up that easily. Alexan was Lord Protector of the Elven Guard. You think we can afford to pass on that kind of skill and experience? These hills will be crawling with Darklings before we know it, and I will not risk Illyandi’s safety for your pride.’
‘It’s not about my pr—’
She cut him off. ‘Yes, it is. You can call it caution, but I know you better.’
‘That’s your father talking.’
‘That line is wearing thin, old man,’ Alexan said. ‘Nor are you in any position to make that judgement.’
Silvermane blinked. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘You know what he’s done. I know what he is.’ He cocked his head, considering the obstinate bastard. ‘Yes, she’s as stubborn and proud as he is. Arrogant too. But she’s not him. If you believe nothing else, believe that.’
The old man’s lip curled in distaste. ‘Intimate knowledge of the Shade King’s mind is not something I would boast about possessing.’
It was Alexan’s turn to sneer. ‘Only an idiot would consider understanding an enemy to be a failing.’
‘Your enemy? Or your master?’
‘The two are not mutually exclusive.’
‘And yet you expect us to trust you? When you are bound in servitude to the greatest evil this world has ever known?’
Alexan rolled his eyes and looked sidelong at Théon. ‘Does he always speak in superlatives?’
‘Fairly often, yes,’ she admitted, not quite stifling a grin. She sobered as the old man glared. ‘His question is valid though.’
Alexan shook his head in frustration. ‘Trust is a luxury that none of you can afford right now. It doesn’t matter if you trust me or not – you need me, and that’s all that matters.’
They fell quiet while his words sank in. Alexan watched, looking for any sign, but their expressions remained impassive. Illyandi broke the silence first.
‘Trust is not something to be given freely. It has to be earned. Perhaps he deserves a chance to earn ours.’ Alexan could only stare at her in disbelief. A swift glance at Théon and Silvermane told him they were just as stunned as he was. But judging by their speechlessness, it seemed unlikely they would argue with her pronouncement. He bowed his head in thanks before their astonishment wore off. She smiled in answer and looked to her sister. ‘He is right though. You should rest.’
‘As should you,’ Théon began.
‘Why don’t you both rest?’ The old man intervened before either could disagree. ‘The Darkling and I can keep watch.’
Théon looked like she was about to argue anyway but seemed to decide better of it. Neither she nor Illyandi said any more on the subject before tucking themselves up and going straight to sleep.
Silvermane watched them in silence for the best part of an hour, that handsome face unreadable even to Alexan. He left the old man to it, busying himself with tending the horses and checking their immediate surroundings before taking up a position between his charges and the path. His weapons he left within easy reach. Not as comforting as having them to hand, but Silvermane was still uneasy, and he wasn’t stupid enough to provoke the old bastard any further.
It wasn’t until Théon started snoring that Silvermane stirred. Amethyst eyes watched Alexan from beneath furrowed brows, glittering in the flickering light of the campfire.
‘For what it’s worth,’ Silvermane murmured, ‘I am sorry for what you have endured.’
Alexan shrugged. ‘Don’t be. I didn’t choose this, but I knew the risks.’
‘I won’t insult you further by pretending to understand.’ The old man sighed and shook his head. ‘You realise how difficult this is? What you are asking of us?’
‘You speak like I wasn’t once one of you. Of course I know how hard it is. But sometimes we have to endure unpleasant things to survive. I’ve suffered a lot to get this far, and I’ll suffer a lot worse to keep Diathor’s daughters alive. What are you willing to sacrifice for that end?’
Silvermane’s gaze grew hard. ‘I’ve sacrificed more than you can ever imagine.’ Then he sighed in defeat and nodded. ‘But I would do it all again to protect them.’
Alexan said nothing but inclined his head in appreciation.
After a while, the old man spoke again. ‘Your mind is well guarded.’
‘All who serve the King have to learn how to keep his secrets.’
‘And what of that which is not secret? You say you know him well …’
Alexan was quiet for a time, considering what the old man was asking. How well he had phrased the question. He understood the Claiming better than he let on. To offer up the King’s secrets would be treason, a betrayal the Claiming would not allow for. But this? To share what he thought of the man? His own observations, judgements? The Claiming would n
ot silence him should he choose to share those.
And the old man knew it.
It was a test. Of his loyalty. To see if he would find any loophole, exploit any chance to prove his loyalty to the Elf-Queen.
He sighed in defeat. ‘I’ll tell you what I can, but I should warn you – you might not like what you hear.’
The old man quizzed him for hours while Théon and her sister slept. As expected, he didn’t seem to like much of what Alexan said. His forehead had more wrinkles than Kieyin’s used bedsheets, and his mouth was puckered tighter than a cat’s arsehole by the end. But at least he didn’t bother to dispute anything Alexan told him. He also had the sense to let the matter drop when Théon stirred and stretched.
‘How long did I sleep?’ she yawned. At least, that’s what he thought she said. It was hard to tell for sure.
‘A while. It’s just after midday.’
She grunted in acknowledgement and nudged her sister awake with the toe of her boot. ‘We should get going.’
‘You should eat first,’ said Silvermane, pointing at the carcass of a large pheasant Alexan had killed, plucked and roasted over the campfire.
Théon blinked. ‘Where did that come from?’
‘I borrowed your bow,’ Alexan told her, handing it and the quiver back to her. ‘Not bad, but it’s seen better days. Shame about the state of the arrows too. I replaced the fletching on the worst, but they need new heads and some of the shafts are knackered.’
She blinked again, taking the proffered weapon. ‘Thanks.’
‘Welcome. Eat up,’ he replied, tossing her half of the remaining bird. The other he held out to Illyandi who shuddered at the fat and grease dripping from the meat. He rolled his eyes, warning, ‘You won’t survive long in the wild living on fruit and leaves, Princess. Your body needs a varied diet to stay strong and healthy.’
‘I know that,’ she told him, pulling an apple from her pack. ‘And if a time comes when I have no other choice but to consume the flesh of living things then I will do so. However, currently, I have other options.’
Alexan didn’t bother to point out that plants were living things too. He didn’t want to waste the breath.
With a sigh, he got to his feet and cleared up their camp. Théon and her sister stayed out of his way, and he made quick work of it. They would have been on their way in a matter of minutes, but Illyandi insisted on checking over her horse before they left. As if he was not capable of caring for the beast …
They continued as before, with Théon leading and Alexan bringing up the rear. Illyandi revealed herself not to be entirely self-absorbed and had volunteered to take the reins while Silvermane slept. They did not stop again until well after sunset, when darkness made it all but impossible for Théon to see the path before her.
‘I can see it fine,’ Alexan told her when she explained the problem.
The look she returned was scathing. ‘How nice for you. Tell me again how that helps us?’
‘Well, if you tell me where we’re going,’ he said through clenched teeth, ‘I can take the lead and then all you have to do is follow me.’
‘We should rest the horses,’ she said.
‘We can’t afford to rest the horses! This isn’t some little summer jaunt we’re on, out to camp under the stars. Do you have any idea what could be behind us right now?’ He didn’t mean to snap, but his frustration got the better of him. She flinched and hesitated, glancing to the old man, and Alexan had to resist the urge to shake her. ‘You said it yourself – you need me right now, but I can’t help you if you don’t let me. And if this is because you don’t think I can be trusted, can I remind you that my life is on the line here too? I’ve seen what the King does to traitors. I’ve dealt out his judgements myself often enough.’
‘So you think we should trust you because you want to save your own skin?’
‘More or less.’
She bared her teeth in frustration. ‘Fine.’
He waited.
‘There’s a port north-west of here. A ferry to Stormkeep leaves every week, for mortals who can afford the passage. And for any of the Graced seeking safe haven.’
He stilled. ‘What?’
‘You see why I didn’t want to tell you.’
He did. ‘How many?’
‘Not many. But enough that he can never learn of it.’
He didn’t bother to correct her. ‘Alright. So you were planning on leaving me behind once you got to the boat?’
‘I hadn’t decided yet.’
Of course she hadn’t. He shook his head in frustration, touching his heels to his mount’s flanks, urging her to the front, and took the lead. The path was wide enough for the cart. Just. At least Silvermane had woken up and taken over the reins. He seemed alert enough to ensure Illyandi’s silly mare stayed close behind Alexan. If Théon had any sense, she’d be keeping her stallion’s nose to the back of the cart. Alexan didn’t bother to check.
How in the Gods’ name was he going to get on board the boat? More to the point, how was he going to survive more than a handful of heartbeats on an island full of the Graced? Perhaps his plan had backfired. There was little chance Théon trusted him if this is what she’d been considering. What a fucking disaster.
The twang of a crossbow was punishment for allowing himself to be distracted, and he roared in pain as the bolt slammed into his gut. Théon yelled a warning to her sister, but he couldn’t make out the words over the pounding of his blood. Fool. Fucking idiotic fool. How had he missed that? They hadn’t just appeared from nowhere. Where had his mind been that he hadn’t noticed?
He ripped the bolt from his stomach with a vicious curse and threw it aside. Magic roiled in his veins, healing the wound and rousing his temper. Another bolt snapped in the darkness, and he rolled from the saddle to avoid it. Why had neither Théon nor Illyandi Cast a shield? Landing on his feet, he grabbed his sword and spared a glance for his charges. The Princess was hunkered down in the cart, the old man shielding her with his body. Théon stood over them, sword drawn but no Casting to speak of was at hand. Alexan cursed again and scanned the shadows for their enemies.
His gaze fell on a familiar crop of gingery hair. Callan. One of Jenia’s lackeys. And there were Finn and Hart flanking him. Fear thundered in Alexan’s chest as he sought the blood-red mane of the King’s lover. No sign of her that he could see, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t near. This was her Hunt. All Graced. Phoenix, mostly. Thank the Gods. There were a few Elves and a Dragon too, but he couldn’t see any of them here. No Unicorns either. There weren’t any in Jenia’s Hunt. The King couldn’t stand them.
He grit his teeth and summoned a Casting. A mighty storm of dark power that churned in the night. A flicker of guilt twisted in his chest for the friends he was about to kill. But perhaps it was just his wound healing. At least they’d walk it off.
Callan charged, Finn and Hart on his heels as always. Alexan swore and loosed the Casting. They screamed as they died, consumed in the maelstrom, but he had no time to mourn when the clash of steel behind him drew his attention. Théon was being pressed hard by the twins, Aven and Briar, and Silvermane was trying to Enchant Madden. More of the Hunt prowled out of reach, waiting for a chance to strike, while Illyandi cowered between her defenders. Not so much as a hint of a Casting from either sister.
His temper surged again. What were they playing at? The power to end this at their fingertips and neither one willing to touch it? He vaulted over his coal-black mare, reaching for a Casting again, blasting the twins away from Théon before slamming his shoulder into Madden’s gut, tackling him to the ground. The Phoenix-born Darkling came up swinging and forced Alexan to give ground.
They traded a flurry of blows before an opening presented itself. Alexan almost laughed. So predictable. Madden made the same mistake every time. The consternation on his face said he knew it too, and Alexan smirked as he drove his blade up into his friend’s heart. An enraged scream from behind drew his attention, and
he spun just in time to parry a heavy, overhand blow from Nola. Another predictable reaction. She’d always been protective of her lover. He dispatched her with similar ease, ignoring the curse of traitor from her lips as she died.
Jenia’s Hunt kept coming. The twins had recovered and were now circling Silvermane, trying to avoid the Enchanting, while Théon battled three more of the Darklings. Still no sign of a Casting. Alexan swore in frustration and summoned his own. The shield would not hold forever, but it would buy him enough time to deal with those Darklings already inside it. He allowed himself half a heartbeat to catch his breath and watch Théon cleave Brenna’s head from her shoulders, before launching himself at the twins.
It wasn’t as strange as he’d thought it would be, to butcher his friends. To drench his hands in their blood. He felt no regret for the slaughter. Just relief that Jenia didn’t appear to be with them. He would have been powerless to intervene otherwise. A glance over his shoulder told him Théon had come out on top of her little skirmish, so he turned his attention to those beyond his shield. Still too many for comfort. Jenia’s Hunt had always been one of the largest in Elucion.
‘Cast!’ he barked at the sisters.
‘Others will sense it,’ Théon objected.
He swore but chose instead to take his frustration out on whoever was unfortunate enough to be nearest. He released his shield, slamming his sword point through Maeve’s neck without breaking his stride and kicking Bowen so hard in the chest he heard bone shatter.
‘Just do it,’ he roared back at Théon. ‘And get your sister off her fucking knees and making herself useful!’
Gods, they’d gotten so soft. Théon had been more useful in a fight when she was ten years old. How had she let a hundred years go by without ever teaching Illyandi to protect herself? Finally, finally, Théon’s Casting roared into life in a storm of lightning streaking through the night. Jenia’s Hunt died as it blasted through their ranks, and any who were missed were cut down by Alexan’s blade or felled by his own Castings.
