Blood of Ravens

by Jen McIntosh

  Gaelan surged to her feet. ‘That’s ridiculous!’ she objected. ‘Emalia, be reasonable!’

  ‘I’m being reasonable,’ Emalia snapped. ‘I have responsibilities, Gaelan, to this city and all who shelter here. The children will be safe in the Academy, and if they don’t graduate, then at least they’ll be strong enough to fend for themselves.’

  ‘You don’t have the authority to allow entry to the Academy from outside the Houses,’ Gaelan argued.

  ‘Then convene the Council and beg them. Those are my terms. Take them or leave them.’ Gaelan hesitated, her body quivering with tension as she battled with herself. Then she sagged in defeat and nodded. Emalia smiled coolly and gestured for Suriya and Lucan to rise. ‘Brer will escort you to your rooms. And Gaelan – they’re to be supervised at all times, under guard and within the citadel walls until the Council decides.’

  Then she gestured to her husband to remove them from her sight, waving a dismissive hand as she returned to her throne. Gaelan didn’t even fight as Brer led them from the hall.

  Erion wasn’t sure where he was. The Darkling woman – Seren – had woken him sometime late in the evening. She’d brought him a change of clothes and a hot, if hurried, meal while they waited for Kieyin to join them. The Shade had held out a hand to each of them, and sensing that he didn’t have a choice, Erion had taken it. Then Kieyin had stepped into thin air, pulling them with him, before appearing again in the outskirts of a sprawling city.

  A scream of pure terror shattered the night, and Erion shied away from the wicked hooting laughter that followed. A girl, not much older than he was, ran out of a nearby alley. She was covered in blood, her eyes wide with terror as she scrambled away from the shadows. Her clothes were a tattered ruin that covered very little, and she clutched the rags to her as if the thin fabric could protect her. Two Darkling men, huge and hulking and staggering like drunkards, followed – her blood staining their lips. She screamed again, begging for mercy as they closed in on her.

  Erion started towards her, but Seren’s hands held him fast. ‘Don’t be a fool.’

  ‘Help her!’

  ‘She’s Darkling prey. Her fate is sealed,’ she snapped.

  Kieyin glanced over his shoulder, hearing the exchange. His pale eyes lingered on the sobbing girl, and his lips curled with distaste. Faster than Erion believed possible, the Shade moved. One instant he was standing in front of them, the next he was behind the young girl. His hands clasped either side of her face, and in a single sharp gesture, he snapped her neck.

  Erion yelled in frustration, and even though Seren covered his mouth with a hand, she needn’t have bothered. The noise was lost in the din as the Darkling men roared, but their protests died in their throats when they saw the Shade standing before them. Kieyin cocked his head to the side, considering them while he wiped the girl’s blood from his hand with distaste.

  ‘If you’re going to play with your food, do it somewhere more contained … and soundproof,’ he said, his voice laced with lethal calm. ‘I find the shrieking tedious.’

  ‘Yes, sire,’ they murmured, bowing low as he stalked away. Seren scowled at him and opened her mouth to admonish him, but he cut her off with an imperious gesture.

  ‘Death may be certain, but the manner is open to debate,’ he said, his pale gaze lingering on Erion. ‘Sometimes a quick death is all we can hope for.’

  ‘You could have saved her.’

  Kieyin shrugged. ‘I could have. But all it would have done was buy her a few more hours in which she could have relived all those horrors. Trust me. Death was kinder.’

  ‘We need to keep moving,’ Seren insisted. The Shade nodded in agreement and continued on his way. Seren’s hand pressed into Erion’s back, urging him to follow. ‘Just keep your eyes on Kieyin, ignore everything except the sound of my voice.’

  He did as he was bid, studying the twin swords strapped across Kieyin’s back while the Shade led the way through the maze of streets. Seren walked close behind Erion, murmuring quiet words of solace as they wound their way through the city.

  Elucion, Kieyin had called it. The legendary city of the Phoenix. Other than the girl, he had seen nothing but Darklings – and the occasional black-eyed monsters that Seren called Nightwalkers – since they’d arrived. If the Phoenix had lived here, they were long gone.

  ‘Where are we going?’ he asked, his feet growing tired of walking. Exhaustion tugged at the edges of his consciousness, and for once, he was glad of his fear. It kept the encroaching weakness at bay. Seren hushed him, reminding him to keep his voice down. But Kieyin slowed, so he walked beside him and gestured towards the centre of the city. He spared Erion a curious glance, a hint of worry edging his gaze, but he didn’t press the matter.

  ‘The King holds Court at the heart of the city itself,’ he explained. ‘The city is divided into districts. His palace forms the innermost ring, with the servants’ quarters around that and then the military barracks around that.’

  ‘Why didn’t we just go straight there, rather than start at the edge and walk in?’

  ‘The inner districts are warded against magic. I got us as close as I could. Believe me, I don’t want to be walking around this city with a prize like you and only my wits and Seren to guard my back.’

  ‘I didn’t realise I was a prize.’

  The Shade’s pale gaze was serious as he looked down at the boy. ‘Most in this city would consider you so.’

  ‘But you don’t.’

  It wasn’t a question, but Kieyin answered it anyway. ‘No. I don’t.’

  ‘We’re almost there,’ Seren interrupted. Erion followed her gaze to the set of enormous iron gates looming ahead. Kieyin exchanged a long look with the Darkling woman. ‘Make it quick,’ she growled, her voice tight as though she were suddenly under great strain. Kieyin halted and crouched so he was level with Erion, resting his hands on the boy’s shoulders as he looked him straight in the eye.

  ‘I don’t have much time so listen carefully,’ he said in hushed tones. ‘Once we are inside the palace, I cannot speak freely again. For what it’s worth, I am sorry. You are just a child separated from his mother, lost and alone and too far from home. It sickens me that anyone would use someone like you for their own betterment, but there are many such monsters here in Elucion. My King does what he can to contain them, and that is why I serve him. That doesn’t mean I always agree with him, but his power is too great for me to go against him.

  ‘I wish I could take you back to your mother. I wish I’d never even gone anywhere near your home in the Ravenswood. But I can’t change the past, and I don’t have a choice now. If I were to set you free, it would undo everything I have spent decades working to achieve. I’m placing my life in your hands by telling you this Erion, but I trust you, and I need you to do the same for me. I will do all I can to protect you in there, but you have to do what I say, when I say it. Do you understand?’

  Erion hesitated. Kieyin seemed honourable, perhaps even kind, but he was a Shade – a nightmare brought to life by magic and dread. Up at the gates, a guard stepped forward, brandishing a torch, trying to make out the shadows lingering in the darkness. And when the light of the flame touched Kieyin he changed. His dark hair shone red, like sunlight on deepest wine, and colour flooded his eyes – no longer pale and eerie, they glowed like molten gold.

  Kieyin winked. ‘I told you – Shade is not all that I am. My mother hailed from a far nobler line. One I intend to protect.’ Then he straightened and turned to face the approaching guard, his demeanour changing. ‘Careful where you’re waving that thing,’ he snarled, menace rolling off him in waves as he extinguished the torch with a blast of dark magic. The guard grovelled when he recognised the approaching figure, but Kieyin just swept past in imperious silence. Seren’s fingers closed around Erion’s wrist, and she dragged him along in Kieyin’s wake.

  The Shade led them through the palace with complete confidence, ignoring everyone who dared to even look at them.
There were two Darkling guards waiting at the great doors to the throne room, and they bowed as Kieyin approached. Leaning against one of the great pillars on either side was a man with black eyes, pointed ears and a cruel smile.

  ‘Kieyin,’ he said, stepping to block the Shade when he moved for the door.

  ‘Corrigan,’ Kieyin replied, not bothering to keep the contempt from his voice. ‘Again? Recovered from your last beating already?’

  ‘Big words from a man who needs a wee girl to watch his back,’ Corrigan said, his eyes dancing as he ran a lecherous eye over Seren. The Darkling woman snarled at the insult.

  But Kieyin just smirked, straightening his sword belt. ‘Who’s in there?’

  Corrigan stepped back, sensing the tension in Kieyin’s voice. He ran a curious eye over Erion but said nothing. ‘Pretty much everyone you’d expect – except Mazron. Don’t know where that sick bastard has got to, but the King isn’t happy.’

  ‘Still no sign of him?’

  Corrigan shook his head. ‘No Zorana either. The King grows concerned.’ Kieyin grunted in understanding but said nothing. ‘Who’s the boy?’

  ‘Not sure yet,’ the Shade grumbled. ‘Watch him a minute while I clear the room, will you?’ Without waiting for a response, he gestured for the Darkling guards to open the doors and marched in, leaving Erion alone with Seren and Corrigan. Beyond the doors, Erion heard the murmur of voices go quiet as Kieyin’s boots snapped on the hard floors.

  There was a brief, quiet exchange before another voice – deep, male and throbbing with power – snarled, ‘Get out.’

  The buzz of voices grew louder as the crowd inside moved towards the door. Corrigan stepped closer and, together with Seren, hid Erion from view while the Court filed out.

  Erion trembled. Every one of them was a Shade. Seren’s hand found his in the darkness, and she squeezed. Corrigan glanced at her and snorted.

  ‘Gods, you’re pathetic,’ he breathed.

  A low, warning growl rumbled in her throat, and she herded Erion behind her, keeping her body between him and Corrigan. But there was no need. As soon as the Shade Court had dispersed, that same powerful voice called for Corrigan, and he sauntered off into the throne room with a cruel smirk. Then Kieyin was there, his fingers curling around the back of Erion’s neck, pushing him forward into the throne room even as his thumb grazed Erion’s cheek in silent apology.

  The room was large – longer than it was wide, with high vaulted ceilings – and lined with ornate pillars carved from black marble. At the far end of the room was a raised dais, upon which a man was enthroned.

  He was tall with jet-black hair and a sensuous, full mouth. His shoulders were broad and powerful, and a crown shaped like ravens’ feathers rested above pointed ears. His brow was marked with the same peculiar star-mark that Erion had once seen on Lucan, and his arms were banded in blood-red tattoos. He was the most beautiful man Erion had ever seen but, like Kieyin, he bore the eerie, colourless eyes of the Shade. Power thrummed around him, unbound and unchecked as he revelled in his might. Erion had never felt anything like it before in his life, and he knew who sat before him.

  Sephiron’s heir.

  The Shade King smiled, and it was a terrifying thing to behold. ‘Well, well, well,’ he murmured, cocking his head to the side as he studied Erion. ‘What do we have here?’

  Chapter Thirty

  Alexan was a light sleeper at the best of times. He wouldn’t have survived this long if he hadn’t been. A decade on the streets of Illyol, with only his wits to keep him safe. At least double that in the Guard, with only his training to rely on. A hundred years serving the Shade Court.

  If either of the first two had failed to teach him to sleep with one eye open, the latter had done the job. Even after feeding, drinking and whoring his way to his large, comfortable bed in Elucion, he’d still never allowed himself to drift into deep sleep. And there was no chance of it now, lying in his swaying hammock in the hold.

  Cold. Resigned. Lonely. The same as he’d been every night since that one. Tossing and turning, haunted by the taste of her blood. The feel of her in his arms. He ground his teeth in frustration, trying to force the thought of her from his mind. She wasn’t for him. She was his Queen and, worse than that, she was the Shade King’s daughter. Alexan wouldn’t live to see another sunrise if the King ever discovered he’d bedded her. He’d be punished enough when the King found out he’d fed from her. No. She was not worth the pain he would endure for such a transgression.

  Breathing deeply, he tried to relax and quieten the anticipation that hummed in his veins. But it was no use. An hour later, he gave up on sleep and ghosted from the hold back up on deck.

  The moon was fat and round in the inky sky, bathing the sea in her cold light. Mari was at the helm, steering by the stars, and she glowered at him as he passed. He ignored her. At least it wasn’t Ana. The red-headed captain had a temper to match her fiery hair and a jealous streak a mile wide. Reminded him too much of Jenia for comfort. Mari was just surly and antisocial.

  He crossed the deck to the prow, resting his elbows on the handrail as he leaned into the sea breeze. Drank it deep into his lungs. There was land on the horizon. The largest island rising up from the sea, the scattering of smaller islands clustered around it like ducklings huddling to their mother. They would make landfall at first light. Mari had moaned bitterly about the difficulty of navigating the Beasts – the rocky formation guarding Stormkeep harbour – and refused to even attempt it during darkness.

  Tension was starting to slip from his shoulders when he heard movement behind him. Near-silent footfalls of someone crossing the deck, headed in his direction. Théon.

  He waited as she crept closer. Feigned ignorance of her presence. Not likely, when he could hear her heart pounding in her chest across the deck; her adrenaline and excitement mixed with night air making his stomach clench in anticipation.

  ‘Dangerous business, sneaking up on a Darkling,’ he warned in a low voice.

  She checked her stride, and he watched over his shoulder as she dropped into a defensive crouch. With a derisive snort, he lunged. Knocked her feet out from under her. Caught her arms, turning and pinning her against the railing in complete silence. ‘Not good enough. I could have killed you at least a dozen times since you left your cabin.’

  ‘I’ll scream,’ she whispered, her eyes dancing with mirth as she delighted in the apparent game. Her joy was infectious, but he forced himself to resist. Allowed more of his weight to press against her and leaned in.

  ‘I’d kill you before you even opened your mouth,’ he assured her. ‘The captain too. And then there would be no one to stop me going below decks and killing Silvermane while he slept.’

  ‘Ah, but then you’d have to fight Illyandi,’ she pointed out in a breathless gasp as she tensed against him.

  ‘She wouldn’t put up much of a fight,’ he said with a knowing smirk. ‘I could have all kinds of fun with her.’

  The laughter faded from Théon’s eyes. She bucked her hips and twisted free. He grinned when she tried and failed to break his grip, pulling her close to him again. They struggled in silence for a moment before she went limp in his arms. Her sudden weight threw him off balance, and she wrenched free of his grip. She knocked him down onto the deck and then she was on him. She straddled his chest, pinning his arms with her knees as she drew her dagger from her boot and held it to his throat.

  The fight had lasted seconds and taken place in complete silence, but it had her chest heaving with the exertion. His own breath caught in his throat as he stared up at her. Illuminated by the moonlight, she was breathtaking. The fierce pride she felt from besting him wasn’t just clear on her face. It showed in every line of her body. He drank in the sight of her, near stunned into insensibility.

  ‘Do you yield?’ she breathed. He nodded and grinned as she relaxed and sheathed the knife. As soon as the blade was away, he grabbed her by the waist and rolled, pinning her beneath him again. H
e sensed her taking a deep breath to shout, so he covered her mouth with one hand and leaned in close.

  ‘Your most important lesson,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘Never trust a Darkling.’ Then he released her, standing and turning away.

  ‘Not even you?’ she asked.

  Alexan didn’t turn. ‘Especially not me.’

  She stood then and came closer, reaching out a tentative hand. When he didn’t flinch from her touch, she gripped his shoulder and forced him to turn and face her, but he kept his eyes rooted on the deck.

  ‘Why not?’

  He raised his eyes and met her gaze then. The truth burned at his conscience, but he swallowed his guilt down. It wouldn’t help either of them to come clean now. ‘You trust me. It makes you forget what I am.’

  ‘You would never hurt me.’

  ‘I would never want to hurt you,’ he clarified, placing two massive hands on her slender shoulders. She seemed so small in his grip. So fragile. So breakable. ‘Remember, my will is not always my own.’ He didn’t need to elaborate. Understanding dawned in that evergreen gaze. It was more than the King’s orders. When he considered what had happened earlier … he shuddered to think how far he might have gone if Illyandi hadn’t interrupted. He blew out a breath and turned away, running a frustrated hand through his hair. ‘I could have killed you, Théon. The bloodlust … it’s hard to explain. It’s not always a choice. It’s very easy for me to lose control in a situation like that.’

  ‘A situation like what?’ she asked, arching a brow at him in challenge.

  He scowled and released her, stepping back. ‘You know what.’

  ‘No, I don’t,’ she snapped, ‘so please enlighten me.’

  Alexan sighed in frustration and pushed past her. He couldn’t meet her eye for this. He took a moment to settle his nerves before he spoke. ‘I was starving. My thirst, hunger, whatever you want to call it … it’s not just physical weakness. It’s a survival instinct. You’d be the same without air. You can’t think rationally, can’t control your instinct. The blood – the life you gave me – was enough to keep me alive. Just. But when you let me drink from you, I needed it so badly I don’t think I could’ve stopped if I’d tried. If Illyandi hadn’t intervened, I would have killed you.’