Blood of Ravens

by Jen McIntosh

  Renila was moved by his confession, but she hadn’t missed his slip. Child. As in singular. ‘Suriya and Lucan aren’t your children then?’

  He shook his head ruefully, as if knowing she wouldn’t have failed to note his mistake. ‘No. We had a daughter, but she was taken from us a long time ago now. Losing her was one of the things that drove Gaelan and I apart. The twins were given into Gaelan’s care by one no longer able to care for them.’

  ‘You know who their parents are?’

  ‘Their mother, yes. But she refused to speak of their father – other than to assure us it wasn’t a Shade. She was willing to give her life to keep their heritage, their existence, a secret. She wouldn’t even allow a midwife to help with the birth. I pulled them both from her womb myself. There was only one other person present in the room that day. The three of us were the only people who ever knew the bloodline from which they hail. We vowed to take that knowledge to the grave.’

  ‘Who was the third?’

  ‘A friend.’

  ‘My friend or yours?’

  ‘Is it so strange to consider they might be both?’

  ‘So you won’t tell me who their mother is?’

  ‘No,’ he conceded. ‘It’s better that way. You can’t reveal something you don’t know.’

  Renila felt her chest tighten with apprehension. ‘It’s that important to keep the knowledge secret?’

  Alvar nodded. ‘Their lives might depend on it.’

  They drifted into silence as the gravity of his words sank in. Renila stared unseeing at her hands folded in her lap. She worried about the twins – how could she not? They were just children, lost and alone in the world, with only Gaelan to guide and protect them.

  ‘And what about Erion?’ she asked. ‘Where does he fit into all of this?’

  Alvar tensed, shifting his weight as if repressing the urge to bolt. His eyes had taken on a wild cast, but when he spoke, his voice was calm. ‘I’m afraid I know very little about your son or where he comes from.’

  ‘But you suspect a great deal,’ she said, voicing unspoken words. It didn’t take a genius to piece together all that she had overheard that night, and she was far from stupid. But she wanted to hear it from him. His expression was pained as he shrugged.

  ‘I can make some educated guesses,’ he admitted, ‘but I can’t prove any of them, and I won’t give voice to an unsubstantiated claim. The risks, to myself and others, are too high if I’m wrong. Not even Gaelan knew everything. I’m afraid that, until you get your memories back, Erion’s exact origin will remain a mystery, as will the reason you hid him away from the world.’

  Renila blinked. ‘What do you mean, get them back?’

  Alvar pulled a face. ‘We live in a world of magic,’ he said. ‘Almost anything is possible.’ Renila didn’t bother to push him on such a vague answer, sensing that this was likely one of those things that he wouldn’t tell her – whatever his reasons. But she was far from done.

  ‘You said we were romantically involved,’ she observed, trying to ignore how her cheeks heated at the thought. ‘Is magic why my body seems to remember your touch, even though my mind does not?’

  She could see him fighting the wicked smile that rose to his lips, and even though he kept a straight face, his thundercloud eyes twinkled with mischief. ‘Not particularly. You could walk and talk without having to relearn the skills, yes?’ She nodded. ‘Your body remembers things that your mind forgets. You think of them as instincts, but they’re just the memories of your flesh. Your body remembers that which brings it pain, brings it pleasure, even if your mind does not.’

  ‘And did you bring me pain or pleasure?’ she asked, her spine straightening with the challenge. ‘I don’t know whether to kill you or kiss you, Alvar Darkstorm, Prince of Immortals – so which is it?’

  He stilled, his ancient eyes wary yet hopeful while he considered her. ‘No doubt I brought you both over the years,’ he conceded. He hesitated. ‘I could show you …’ He trailed off, looking at his feet. Renila had to fight the impulse to laugh. He looked so much like a shy schoolboy anticipating a scolding. And yet, part of her wanted to go to him, to cradle his head to her chest and murmur soft assurances in his ear.

  ‘Show me what?’ she enquired, keeping her tone light. He said nothing for a while, staring at the ground as he wrestled with some internal battle. After what seemed like an age, he raised his glorious eyes to meet hers.

  ‘You have no memories of your life before Gaelan’s castle, of our time together,’ he murmured, ‘but I have plenty. I could share my memories with you – give back some of what you have lost. They will not tell you all, for mine is only one side of our tale, but perhaps they can offer you another piece of the puzzle you wish to solve.’

  His eyes were wide, and Renila could see how much it cost him to offer such a fragile piece of himself. If she spoke the wrong words, she might break him. They both knew it. And yet, he did not baulk at the prospect. He was willing to risk whatever pain she might yet inflict in the slim hope that part of her remembered and trusted him. She realised then how much he cared for her. That she alone had the power to break this man, this Immortal god, with something as simple as her regard for him. That he would not only offer her the sword with which to end him but place the blade at his own throat and hold it steady so she couldn’t miss. This was a man who would walk through fire, face nightmares, fight darkness itself for her. She could not refuse him.

  ‘Show me,’ she murmured.

  They knelt facing each other on the floor, foreheads touching as he cupped her face in his hands. His fingers rested on her temples while his thumbs brushed her cheekbones. His breath tickled her chin, and she could almost hear the echo of his heartbeat in her ears. He murmured now and then, his words so soft and disjointed that they were incomprehensible. The memories came in flashes, stuttering and incoherent at first, but slowly, the picture emerged.

  A man with hair as black as night and eyes to match cradled a baby in his arms, glaring at the men and women before him. He was furious, spitting with rage as he cursed their people with all manner of obscenities. The Darkstorm – his father – bristled at the insult, but Alvar found himself moving. The words rose unbidden to his lips, an oath of fealty – once spoken, unbreakable. Not even his Immortal soul would save him if he reneged on such a promise. The man handed the infant to him, the hesitation and reluctance clear in those dark eyes. But Alvar barely noticed. His gaze was drawn to the child – to the shock of wine-red hair, and the pair of bright amber eyes smiling impishly up at him.

  ‘Her name is Renila,’ the man said. ‘Treat her well or you answer to me.’

  The image changed.

  He watched from the shadows as two figures approached a grand building on the edge of a fairy-tale city. White marble glowing, the lagoon beyond glittering with the silver moonlight. It was not long past midnight, the stars glinting in the sky overhead. It was a good omen, Alvar told himself. He felt safer when the stars shone bright. A petite, ebony-haired woman held the infant Renila in her arms, accompanied by a man with fox-red hair and dark amber eyes. They hesitated on the threshold, glancing over their shoulders just once before they continued, disappearing through the great doors. Alvar murmured a soft prayer before slipping back into the night.

  Renila felt as though the ground lurched beneath her as the memory shifted once more.

  A toddler with burgundy hair, racing on chubby legs across the room as she chased after a long-suffering cat. The Mother tutting in frustration, cursing the wildness of her charge; Alvar chuckling to himself.

  A girl, a little over five, with mischievous amber eyes trying her hardest to look contrite as she received a scolding. He didn’t ask about her infraction. He wasn’t supposed to care. None of the Guardians at the Academy were.

  A hellion, just over ten, refusing to cry despite the beating she must have taken for her face to be so bruised. It must have been inflicted by other students – no Guardian would
ever hurt a child like that. He fought the fury rising in his blood as he asked her who had hurt her. But she held her tongue, too afraid to speak out. He found them anyway. Not one would ever graduate.

  A young woman, hiding in the library, her amber eyes no longer full of mirth and mischief but weary from the fight. He kept his distance. He could never show preferential treatment.

  A woman grown, hair unbound and snapping like flames around her head as it stirred in the evening breeze, eyes glowing in the dying light of the sun. None could mistake what she was. She threw the truth of her existence into their teeth, for none could hurt her now. She was no longer an Aspirant, she was a Graduate – entitled to Immortality as much as anyone born of the bloodlines.

  They walked together on the beach while Alvar explained her history. As much as he could. She said very little, but as he spoke, she stepped a little lighter – as though he lightened her burden with each word. She smiled and thanked him for his kindness. He offered her his home and his protection, such as it was, and she kissed him upon the cheek in gratitude.

  Then the visions grew clearer.

  Alvar stood in the centre of the training ring, arms folded across his chest and smirking, watching a woman with scarlet hair and fiery amber eyes storm towards him. Renila. And she was furious. But before she could start what was doubtless a well-rehearsed tirade, he threw a sparring sword at her. She caught it and scowled at him.

  ‘Training begins at dawn,’ he told her. ‘If you’re late again, I’ll make you suffer for it.’

  ‘I don’t need to train,’ she snarled. ‘We learned plenty in the Academy.’

  He struck, driving at her with his inhuman speed and strength – the only part of his Immortal grace left untouched by that wretched curse. Her eyes widened with shock, and she leapt back, trying to parry. She was quick, he’d give her that. She put up a good fight, but it was far too easy for him to send her sprawling on her arse in the dirt. He looked down at her, fighting not to laugh at the outrage on her lovely face.

  ‘None of the Guardians at the Academy were alive during the Rebellion,’ he said. ‘They know the theory, and they can teach discipline and control, but none of them know how to harness the rage of battle. None of them have ever looked death in the eye and fought for their lives.’

  ‘You’re Immortal,’ she objected, struggling to her feet. ‘Death is voluntary.’

  ‘You, however, are not Immortal,’ he noted, not bothering to correct her. The Rebellion had redefined what it meant to be Immortal – but that was a secret few were aware of. Outside the Council, only those who had survived the Rebellion would ever know the truth. ‘I made the blood-oath to protect you from harm, Renila. Death will not be voluntary for me if I break it. So you’ll train with me until I’m happy that you’re at a level where you can defend yourself against anything that comes your way. And then we’ll train every day after that, so I can be sure you don’t forget. My life depends on it as much as yours.’

  She scowled but said nothing, settling herself into a ready crouch and raising her sparring sword in invitation. He smiled and struck.

  Another shift. Another scene.

  They faced each other across the pale sands of the Arena, the colour leached from the ground by moonlight. The cold air was refreshing, and a slight breeze stirred his hair about his shoulders. He shivered from the simple pleasure of the wind kissing his face and smiled to himself. Renila’s figure was like a splash of blood on pristine snow, her scarlet hair shifting in the same wind that caressed his cheek. Even from this distance, he could see her eyes glowing while she watched him. Raiden damn him, she was beautiful.

  He pushed the thought from his mind and gestured for her to begin. The air around her crackled to life as flames licked along her tawny skin, surrounding her in a fiery aura. He blinked in surprise. The power radiating off her was enormous. He’d never seen its like outside of the Houses. She saw the shock on his face, and her exquisite face cracked into a wicked grin as she realised that here she would not be so easily outmatched. And at the sight of that ferocious glint in her amber eyes, his breath caught in his throat. After all this time … had he at last found a kindred spirit? Another wild, untameable soul who would not flinch in the face of the storm? For the first time in a long time, he felt a glimmer of hope.

  And again.

  They sat in complete silence, staring at each other as they tried to break into each other’s mind while defending their own. They’d been at it for hours. Too evenly matched for either to gain the upper hand long enough to break through. He’d never admit it, but he was impressed. It had taken him millennia to learn the composure and control he exerted. She wasn’t even eighty years old. Her mind was a fortress. He’d tried everything he could think of, from distracting her with one thought while trying to sneak in with another to bringing all his might to bear, bombarding her defences, hoping somewhere a crack would appear. None had. Sometimes it had taken all his strength to keep her out. She was a tenacious and cunning adversary.

  They were both exhausted now, but each too proud to admit defeat. Their attacks were half-hearted, requiring very little effort, and he found his attention wandering as he drank in the sight of her. They sat by the fire, and he could see the flush across her golden cheeks from its warmth. The light danced over her scarlet hair, breathing life into it as it surrounded her beautiful face like living flame. Her lips were parted, and she had her tongue caught between her teeth in concentration. Her eyes were distant, but they glowed like miniature suns. Then they focussed on his face, and she smiled triumphantly. His attention snapped back to his defences, inspecting them. He frowned in confusion. There was nothing wrong, no crack that he could see, no sense of her in his mind. Why then was she grinning with her victory?

  She moved faster than anything he’d ever seen. One moment she was sitting across from him, flush with success. The next she was in his lap, her hands dragging his face to hers and her lips crushing against his. Her breasts pillowed against his chest, and his stomach clenched in anticipation as she claimed his mouth. Raiden help him. The woman knew how to kiss. She scattered his thoughts with her lips, her hands holding him tight so he could not escape. Not that he wanted to.

  She chuckled against his mouth, stroking an invisible hand over his mind. She’d breached his defences. He cursed in surprise, pushing her off him as he recoiled. She’d won. She’d fucking won. His mental walls slammed down, but the damage was done. She was inside now, able to wreak whatever havoc she wanted.

  ‘You cheated,’ he said, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve.

  She grinned the feral grin of the fox who had just broken into the henhouse. ‘There are no rules when it comes to life and death,’ she breathed. ‘You taught me that.’

  ‘Get out,’ he snarled, trying to extricate her from the inner workings of his mind. She didn’t budge, but nor did she delve any deeper. Instead, she stood and prowled closer. Alvar backed away, afraid for perhaps the first time in his life. This wasn’t right. She was his charge, not his lover. His back hit the wall, and he threw up his hands to ward her away. She stopped, just out of reach, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

  She smirked. ‘What’s wrong? I thought you were enjoying yourself?’

  ‘Only because you manipulated my mind into thinking I was enjoying myself,’ he challenged.

  She grinned again and edged closer. ‘Would you believe me if I told you I had nothing to do with it?’ she purred.

  He scowled. ‘Unlikely.’

  ‘Alright,’ she conceded with a chuckle. ‘I might have escalated things slightly. But all I did was exploit a weakness.’

  He opened his mouth to argue, but there was an edge of bitterness in her voice that stopped him in his tracks. He reached out and cupped her face. There was no point denying it now. She was in his head – could read the truth in his thoughts. ‘Loving you is not a weakness,’ he assured her. ‘You give me strength when I am on my knees, shine a light into my darkness �
�� I would have been lost long ago without you in my life.’

  She smiled, dashing the tears from her eyes. ‘And I thought you just wanted my body,’ she said, trying to hide how his words had affected her behind that fiery bravado.

  It was his turn to smirk. ‘Well … not just your body,’ he promised. And with that, he kissed her.

  The scene switched, and her cheeks heated at the feelings rising in response.

  Bodies tangled together in the sheets, skin against skin, they explored every inch of each other. She dragged a groan from his lips as she ran her hands over him and kissed him until he forgot his own name. It was only much later when, in her pleasure, she screamed it out loud that he remembered.

  The scenes blurred together once more, as Alvar lost himself in his memories.

  A picnic in the meadow – he fed her strawberries from his hand. She flicked her tongue over his fingers, drawing one deep into her mouth. He groaned and kissed her, covering her body with his while they lay together beneath the sun.

  They danced together at a ball, finer than any fairy tale. Her gown, cream velvet and embroidered with gold, swirled around her as they spun across the floor. His father looked on in disapproval. He couldn’t have cared less. She led him to the edge of the dance floor, spinning them out into the gardens. They danced together beneath the moonlight, drinking in the sight of each other.

  They sat in his library in front of the fire, she in the chair and he on the floor at her feet. His head rested against her legs, and she ran her slender fingers through his hair while she read aloud to him. He’d never been so content.

  They sparred together, greeting the dawn. Her chest heaved from the effort, her face flushed from the exertion. They came together, swords locked, and he couldn’t stop himself from kissing her. She dropped the sword, throwing her arms around his neck as they collapsed to the ground in a heap.