by Jen McIntosh
But they had lost each other while wandering the sacred woodlands. Keriath was hunted down and ripped apart by a Hunt of Graced Darklings. A band of Nightwalkers captured Resari, tortured her and left her for dead, nailed to an altar as a warning to her parents.
Resari’s mother – Kalielle Half-Elven – had found and rescued Keriath. But it had been Keriath’s mother who’d had the misfortune to discover Resari, broken but alive and screaming her rage to the night sky. It was just as well that Kalielle hadn’t seen the damage with her own eyes. Even now, a hundred years after her death, Keriath shuddered to imagine her fury.
She shuddered at the memory of her own rage when she first saw the ruin of her face. Only magic left a mark on Graced skin.
Which was why the Shade King’s lover had led a Hunt of Elvish Darklings to hunt down his supposed bastard spawn. Jenia, daughter and heir to the legendary Flame of Elucion. Keriath knew the Old Tales, had heard Jenia’s story from the lips of one who had witnessed it first-hand. A child, born of peace and hope, but corrupted beyond reason by the Shade King. She was a monster, cruel by nature but honed into something far worse by the long centuries at her lover’s side.
Jenia had wanted Keriath dead from her first breath. Resari she had feared, had tried to break that night in Ariundle. Théon she had tolerated, had tried to use for her own ends. But Keriath … Keriath she hated. Hated the rumours, hated even the possibility that Keriath was the product of a consensual union between the King and another. She had led that Hunt after Keriath for one reason and one reason only. Her utter destruction.
The King had sent Jenia north to retrieve Théon, stolen from under his nose in the dead of night. But Jenia, her jealousy at breaking point, had had other plans. She’d sent a Shade to assassinate Théon and paid Nightwalkers to torture and eliminate Resari. The Darklings hunting Keriath she’d led herself. All three girls had proven far more resilient than she’d expected, even years away from fully coming into their powers. Théon had dealt with the Shade herself, and Resari had survived her ordeal, damaged but unbroken. Keriath had fought off her attackers long enough for help to come and finish what she’d started.
They had come at Keriath with everything they had. A whole Hunt of Graced Darklings, with the magical auras and pointed ears that marked them as Elves, had hunted her through the ancient forest, baying for her blood, before springing their trap. She had never been more scared in her entire life. Jenia had stepped from the shadows like a nightmare given form and watched with a smile as the others loosed their magic upon her prey. Keriath had Cast a shield, but there were too many of them. Driven to the ground, she lay helpless, eyes closed against the horror, shielding her face with her hands as their Castings burned her flesh. Screaming in agony, she’d waited for the end.
Then it had all been over. There was a flash of searing heat and brilliant light, the dying screams of the Darklings and a frustrated roar from Jenia … Then silence and warm arms enveloping her. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to open her eyes. But she’d recognised the voice that murmured to her, recognised the beat of the proud, steady heart inside the chest she cried into. Kalielle. Resari’s mother. But in those moments, she was far more. Keriath had slipped into oblivion and awoken days later in her bed, with Théon and Resari at her side. They’d held her in their arms as she was shown her reflection, had shared in her agony for power lost and innocence taken.
But that was not a story she ever told. Most of those dear to her knew what had happened, but none had ever asked her to recount it herself. Even if she could bring herself to speak the words, it was too dangerous to tell such a tale in this place. So Keriath closed her eyes and whispered a lie.
‘I was born long after the Fall. I don’t remember my mother. My father took me from her when he found out. She was just some dockside whore who’d caught his eye. When he realised his bloodline had bred true, he gave me the only protection he could offer. He knew I would never be safe, so long as the Shade walk the earth, so he marked me. Did this to diminish my beauty, to diminish my power, hoping no one would ever look at me and recognise what I was. Then he left, and I’ve been alone ever since.’
Like all good lies, it was laced with enough truth to make it believable. Not her story, not by a long way, but the story of someone who had once been dear to her. Dell said nothing at first, though his arms around her tightened.
‘Alright,’ he said. She glanced up in confusion. ‘I’ll help you. Together. We’ll get out of here together.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, fighting back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. Instead, she laid her hand against his chest in offering. He groaned, his trembling fingers closing around her wrist. There was a flash of pain when his teeth tore through the fragile skin there, but he was gentle as he drank. Any strength she’d found was replaced by a languid relaxation that left her head spinning. She swayed, but Dell’s arm snaked round her waist, holding her tight. With nothing between them, she was aware of every inch of his broad, powerful chest against her own, but for once, it did not repel her.
When he was finished, he cradled her in his arms for a moment before releasing her. Then he whispered in her ear, his voice so soft she wondered if she’d imagined it as she drifted into darkness. ‘You need a better story. There’s far too much power in your veins for you to be nothing more than a half-breed bastard. Once they taste you, they’ll know.’ His hands were almost tender as he stroked her hair back from her face, and he leaned forward to place a soft kiss upon her brow. ‘Sleep well, Olena – or whoever you are.’
And then he was gone. And Keriath was alone in the darkness once more.
Chapter Twenty-Four
She wasn’t sure how she’d wandered into Dell’s mind, whether she’d been waking or dreaming when it happened, but she lingered anyway. For the comfort of escaping her own reality, if nothing else.
The bridge was down, and he was leaning against the archway with his arms folded across his chest, wearing a dark scowl while he considered his prisoner. She was lying on the ground, completely still. It was only with his heightened Darkling senses that he knew she was still alive. She was weak. Healing those wounds had taken a lot out of her. He took a deep breath, trying to quell the fear rising in his gut. If she died …
A small smile twitched on her lips. She was strangely touched by his concern.
With a heavy sigh, he glanced back over his shoulder to the two Darklings standing guard beyond the door.
‘Go on,’ he muttered. ‘Away with you both. She’ll be down soon enough. No need for you to stay.’
They hesitated. ‘You sure?’ Dell glanced back at Keriath and grimaced at the sight of her.
‘Aye. She’s not going anywhere.’ The guards chuckled and did as they were bid. Dell stepped inside the chamber. ‘Still with us?’
Keriath’s eyes fluttered open, and she pulled back from his mind into her own. ‘Sadly,’ she grumbled, rolling onto her side. But her breathing smoothed, and she heard him wonder if it wasn’t partly an act that she appeared so weak. ‘It’s not.’
‘I hate it when you do that,’ he said, crouching beside her.
She held out her wrist in silent offering and shuddered as his teeth pierced her skin.
‘Then you should have let me die,’ she countered, sagging as what little strength she had left her.
His tongue grazed over the wound when he finished, and his eyes glinted as he gazed up at her. ‘But then I would be without the delights your beautiful body has to offer.’ She snorted and withdrew her arm. ‘How are you?’
Keriath shrugged. She was alive. Just. Her body ached from the memory of her wounds, and the absence of her Graced strength was like missing a limb. She felt vulnerable … mortal. And that was just her body. Her heart was weary and her mind numb. She dared not let her thoughts linger or consider her emotions. It was too overwhelming. Even if she were to survive her imprisonment, even if they were to escape, she wondered if she would ever fully recover.
How long had it been since she’d stood with Faolin and Dorrien beneath the lofty boughs of the Ravenswood? She didn’t know. Ylain had not returned. It was a small mercy, but a mercy nonetheless, and she relished it. Somehow, Keriath knew it was the last one she’d ever receive. It was a terrifying thought.
‘I’m fine,’ she said, catching Dell peering at her. He raised a sceptical eyebrow but didn’t challenge her. Time to change the subject. ‘So what’s happening in the world outside this cell?’
‘Death and ruin,’ he replied. ‘What else? Rumour has it the Shade King’s forces are moving again. That’s got some people in this mountain a little nervous.’
‘I’m not surprised. The Queens are plotting against him, right?’
Dell smirked and nodded. ‘They’ve aligned with Prince Mazron and his sister Zorana against the King. They don’t like the limitations he places upon them. Think they’re above such rules.’ Keriath pursed her lips. She’d gathered as much from conversations she’d overheard since her capture.
‘So, what? Mazron’s bought the Queens with human slaves to feed their army?’
He shook his head. ‘No. The Queens bought him, and the Nightwalkers in his pocket, with their business. Shade Princes don’t trust Darklings they can’t control. The Queens had to convince him to see the benefits of having our kind as equal allies and not just lackeys.’
‘And they sent Drosta north to Illyol to help Zorana see the same thing?’
Dell shrugged. ‘Something like that.’
‘But he’s looking for an opportunity to line his own pockets instead?’
‘Drosta isn’t interested in anything as mundane as financial gains. He wants power. Zorana can give him that.’
Keriath’s lip curled in disgust. ‘It’s a miracle there’s any of you left – you’re so quick to stab each other in the back. Almost makes me redundant.’ He chuckled at that and didn’t deny it. Then his gaze grew sombre, and he wouldn’t meet her eye. ‘What is it?’ He hesitated, looking at the ground. Reaching over, she gripped his chin in her fingers and forced him to look at her. ‘Tell me.’
‘Ylain’s had enough. She’s going to let Talize have you,’ he whispered.
Keriath flinched, releasing him. She tried to speak, but words wouldn’t come. His expression was grim, his bloody eyes filled with regret, but he took her hands in his own and squeezed in reassurance. He opened his mouth to speak, but a voice from the doorway interrupted.
‘How sweet,’ it crooned. Dell surged to his feet, placing himself between Keriath and the Queen, a low growl ripping out of him. Talize’s brows arched in surprise, and she eyed Keriath in admiration. ‘You must be very strong to have such power over him this far under the mountain.’
Dell seemed to hesitate, shoulders slumping, but Keriath remained impassive. She’d had nothing to do with Dell’s reaction. She’d felt it as clearly as if it had been her own, but she’d had no hand in it. It had been instinctive – driven by a base urge to protect and defend something he considered his own.
He bowed. ‘Forgive me, Majesty.’
Talize smiled. It was a smile that sent a shiver of fear racing down Keriath’s spine.
‘I’ll think about it,’ the Queen mused. ‘Now get out.’ This time, at least, Dell had the sense not to hesitate. From the corner of Keriath’s eye, she could see him pause on the threshold and glance back, his gaze filled with emotions she could not name. She didn’t bother looking inside his head to find out what they were. She didn’t want to know. Then he was gone, and her gaze drifted back to the Queen.
The unholy desire and ravenous bloodlust in Talize’s dark red eyes told her that things were about to become much worse. The dark-haired Queen was beautiful, even by Graced standards, but there was something almost obscene about that beauty. It was not natural.
Talize sniffed and pulled a face as she scented the room. Two menacing-looking guards flanked her, though Keriath could tell at a glance the Queen had chosen them for looks and not for skill. Their muscle-bound bodies were well oiled but sculpted for aesthetic form, not prowess in combat. The Darkling man who followed behind, however, was something else.
His red eyes were glowing from the scent of Keriath’s blood, but there was something cruel about them. More stable than Drosta perhaps, more cunning too, but just as vicious. His exquisite, well-fitted clothes, made of the finest black silk, were immaculate. His skin was pale, and his dark hair had been brushed until it shone. No doubt he considered himself handsome, this preening Darkling, and perhaps by mortal standards, he was. But Keriath, who hailed from a bloodline of legendary beauty and could stop a man dead in his tracks with only a smile, was unimpressed.
‘Get her up,’ Talize ordered, snapping her fingers at the muscles. They bowed and turned to obey. One went to the pulleys on the left, while the other went to the pulleys on the right. Together they shortened the chains above Keriath, pulling her to standing by her wrists, but they did not stop there. They kept going until she was suspended above the pedestal, dangling – her toes just inches above the ground, but it could have been miles for all the difference it made. Her shoulders screamed in protest, but she didn’t have the strength to pull herself up to protect them. She slumped in her chains and gave herself to the pain. Perhaps she deserved it.
‘Magnificent,’ the pretty Darkling companion murmured, raking his eyes over Keriath’s limp form with predatory intent. Something in his voice made Keriath’s skin crawl.
‘Isn’t she just?’ Talize crooned. ‘A shame about the burns though.’
The pretty Darkling shook his head. ‘No,’ he breathed, ‘they’re perfect. An artist works with what they have. Marble, canvas … flesh. It makes little difference. Art is art, and whoever sculpted those was a master.’ Keriath’s stomach heaved, and she looked away. She had no wish to see the fevered excitement in his eyes.
Talize murmured in agreement before turning back to the guards.
‘Clean her up,’ she ordered, ‘and the cell too. I can’t think for the smell.’
And with that she turned and strode from the room with her pretty pet on her heels.
As soon as the Queen had left, Dell returned to oversee the cleaning of her cell, the need to protect and defend churning beneath his skin. Then he sent for food and water, before banishing the other guards from the room once more.
‘She’ll kill you if she catches you,’ Keriath warned as she allowed him to tip the cool, clear water down her throat.
His scowl deepened. ‘She’s the one who gave the order. She needs you stronger so that …’ He trailed off.
‘So I can endure what she’s got planned for me?’ she finished for him. He nodded, handing her an apple along with some bread and cheese. Disgust and fear tightened around her throat. ‘Delightful.’
Dell only grimaced in agreement. ‘When she begins, don’t trust your senses,’ he warned. ‘Ylain’s given the order. You’re not to be touched … like that … but Talize’s drugs can make you see and hear whatever she wants, so you won’t be able to tell the difference. Trust nothing. Even me.’
Keriath snorted and smirked at him, trying to hide the wave of relief that they would not violate her. ‘That shouldn’t be too difficult.’
He scowled, but she didn’t miss the hurt in his eyes. Wouldn’t have missed it even if she’d been unable to sense the pain as her words struck him like a blow. She blinked in surprise and opened her mouth to say something – to take it back, deny it. She wasn’t sure what she could say. But she didn’t get the chance as he turned on his heel and left her alone with her thoughts.
She frowned. Whatever bond was between them, it was growing stronger. She could sense the work of magic at play. What they had … it wasn’t natural. Whether it was the work of the Darkling corruption or the twisted power thrumming through the mountain, she didn’t know. But there was no doubt in her mind that it had nothing to do with her Graced lineage. That magic was the kind that made her hands itch with the need
to choke the life out of Dell.
A need that grew stronger when he stood by and watched from the door as Talize’s bodyguards entered to do their mistress’s bidding. As Keriath watched them approach with the bucket of water and washcloth, her pride snapped to attention, and she growled in warning at them.
‘Don’t you fucking dare,’ she snarled. Her chains had been loosened, so she could lie on the pedestal once more, and she scrambled to her feet as they neared. She dropped to a defensive crouch, her hands outstretched, warning them away. ‘I will gut you like the pigs you are if you even think about it.’
Dell’s soft chuckle echoed around the cavern. ‘I told you she wouldn’t take it lying down.’ One had the sense to look nervous, but the other had a mischievous glint in his eye as he looked between the woman and the buckets.
‘Have it your way,’ he said with an idle shrug of his shoulders. Then he threw the contents of one bucket over her. Keriath shrieked in outrage: the water was ice-cold. He chuckled and turned to leave, but he froze when his gaze fell upon the curvaceous figure silhouetted in the doorway. As one, the two guards dropped to their knees and bowed their heads.
‘Majesty,’ they murmured together.
Talize tutted as she stepped inside, her bloody gaze raking over Keriath’s drenched figure. ‘That won’t do at all,’ she purred. ‘Strip her and wash her properly.’
Keriath growled, backing away as much as she could. But there was nowhere for her to go, and the guards captured her without difficulty. They pulled her chains tight once more to hold her fast, her joints burning with the pain. She looked to Dell for help, but he stood fast behind the Queen. His eyes blazed, and she sensed the anger churning in his gut. Mine, mine, mine, his thoughts were chanting.
