Huntress: A Paranormal Romance

by Alexandra Christian

  More guards rushed in, pulling Thalia away from the other guard. But she was quicker, catching them off guard as she bashed her head against the forehead of the first and driving a knee into the guts of the second. They obviously weren’t expecting a girl to be able to fight them, and they both stumbled backward. “Bella! Run!” Thalia screamed as she ran toward the dining room, knowing that one of those knives was her only hope. Before she could lay her hands on a silver hilt, the captain was upon her. With a hard kick to the middle of her back, he sent her sprawling forward against the table. The wind was knocked from her, and for a moment, she couldn’t catch her breath. She tried to push back, but the heavy captain loomed behind her. As she tried to rise, he grabbed her by the hair and bashed her head against the table in two quick strikes. It didn’t knock her out, but she was disoriented. Enough that he was able to turn her roughly so that she was lying beneath him. His hot breath smelled of mead and blood, and it turned her stomach as he breathed over her. “Let me go!”

  “Not just yet, poppet.” He leaned over her, sniffing as if he were some kind of animal. “Such a pretty thing. I bet you’re unspoiled, too.”

  “Leave me alone,” Thalia growled, kicking out desperately but unable to connect. She could hear Bella shrieking in the next room, and she wished that Malik were here. His dragon form would make short work of them. As the captain of the guard pressed his body against hers, licking at the side of her throat, Thalia managed to free one of her arms and reached back, struggling to grab at one of the utensils. Just as she closed her hand around the hilt, he grabbed her wrist, crushing it against the table until she lost her grip.

  “Still the little fighter, eh?” he growled before his fist came down across the bridge of her nose.

  Everything went dark.

  It was apparent that something was wrong as soon as Malik crested the hill. Ellythin rose in the darkness, outlined against the deep blue. He raised his head and sniffed the air. Despite his new form, the dragon senses still remained, and Ellythin smelled different. He sprinted across the ragged gardens and around to the doors. All over the ground were signs of struggle: broken stone, bits of cloth, and other debris lay here and there. The doors hung on their hinges, missing splinters and scraped up from either a battering ram or hooves. He recognized the sharp scent of horses and sweat. His heart beat hard in his chest, and he burst through into the foyer.

  “Thalia!” he called, his voice echoing. “Thalia! Come down here now! Bella!” He held his breath, listening for any small noise. But there was none. He took the stone stairs two at a time, running from room to room searching for them and calling their names to no avail. The castle was completely empty. As he sniffed at the air again, he couldn’t smell any blood, and that eased his mind somewhat. Perhaps they had just gone looking for him. But why would they go out in the storm? Even now, there was rumbling in the distance and lightning flashed, threatening to tear open the sky once more.

  “Malik!” Bella ran toward him, stumbling over her feet in her haste. Her dress was torn, and her face was ashen with an almost feverish look. “Thank the gods,” she panted. She slammed against him, weeping into his chest.

  “What’s going on?”

  “It’s Thalia. Tristan’s men… they came to the castle. He sent them to arrest her.”

  “Arrest her?”

  “Yes,” she nodded. “King Christophe is dead, and they think Thalia murdered him!”

  “What?” He grabbed her by the shoulders roughly, shaking her. “Where is she?”

  “Please, Malik… I tried to help her! I tried to fight them off, but there were just too many of them! I had to get away…”

  “You used your magic to save your own skin and not Thalia’s!” He could feel the anger rising up from his middle, and he wanted to strangle the life from the witless pixie.

  “No! I had to, Malik! I had no choice. They would have killed us both, and there would have been no one to tell you what became of us!”

  The rage receded, and Malik relaxed his grip on Belladonna, shoving her backward and starting to pace nervously. He raked his fingers through his hair, mumbling to himself. “I shouldn’t have left. I knew something like this was going to happen.”

  “Don’t blame yourself,” Bella said.

  “Then who should I blame?”

  “The only one responsible. Tristan. It’s Tristan who has brought this upon us! I told you he was dangerous.”

  “Oh, so now it’s my fault for not destroying him sooner?”

  “No, Malik,” she said, laying a calming hand on his shoulder. “But it is up to you to fix it.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “We have no choice now, my son. You must go and confront your brother. It is the only way to get Thalia back.”

  He rounded on Belladonna with an inhuman roar making her cower as if he might still breathe fire. “How do you propose I do that? Sneak in like an assassin? I’ll get us both killed. Tristan has an army of guards that are waiting for me to do just that! They know I’ll be coming for her, and they’ll be expecting it. The whole thing is a trap! I can smell it!”

  “But you’re…”

  “I’m what? I am nothing now! How can I fight the entire Osghastian army by myself? In case you hadn’t noticed, I left behind my dragon form when the curse was broken! I shed the skin and left it lying on the floor of the Great Hall, along with whatever strength I had!”

  She started to say more, but paused, almost holding her breath. Malik could tell that some devious scheme was working its way into her brain. He had seen this look many times over the years. The Fae were not strong. They had to rely on their wits and their magic to outsmart their opponents, and that’s what Malik needed now. No longer could he rely on brute force. He would have to think his way through this, and it was in Bella’s best interest to help him.

  “What is it?” Malik said finally.

  “Show me where you shed your skin.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  When Thalia awoke, the only thing she was aware of was pain. A deep, splitting pain between her eyes that radiated around them like a mask of burning pressure. She was pretty sure that her face was swollen beyond all recognition. When she reached up to touch her cheek, she nearly screamed in agony. She could taste the blood on her lips, and the side of her face felt cold and sticky. Slowly, her vision began to clear, and after a few attempts, she was able to sit up. She was in a small, round room with a tiny window. It was dark and cold with no furniture to speak of. The floor on which she lay was rough stone, and as she got to her knees, it scraped against them. She was still wearing the modest gown that Bella had helped her into, but the flowing silk was stained with blood and dirt from the floor.

  “Where am I?” she murmured to herself, half-crawling toward the tiny window. It wasn’t much of a window, just a slit in the bricks so that she could see down into the courtyard below. She recognized this place. It was the castle in Thane. The place she’d been brought before the ritual that united her with Malik. The grounds were bedecked with bunting in the royal colors: proof that what the guard had said was true. A new king had been crowned. She could also see the distant battlements that had been destroyed by the dragon more than a month ago. A crew of peasants was laying bricks to rebuild the fortification, but the scarring was still there as well as scorch marks and blackened trees dotting the gardens.

  “They call this the ‘Screaming Tower of Thane.’” Thalia turned to see Tristan and the captain of his guard enter.

  “How quaint,” Thalia replied, turning back to the window and staring out at the horizon.

  “Do you know why?”

  “No idea, but I’m sure you’ll enlighten me,” she sighed, already tiring of Tristan’s wicked king routine.

  Tristan offered a thin-lipped smile. He was clearly insulted that she wasn’t the least bit intimidated by him. He held her gaze, and for a moment, she was struck by his resemblance to Malik. They were twins indeed, but not ide
ntical. Tristan’s golden hair almost matched the sun-kissed color of his brow. It was the mark of a hunter, and Malik’s hunting had been done under a cloak of iron scales. They were like two halves of the same coin: one light, one dark. “Most think that it’s because this is where the queens of old would give birth. But no, I’m afraid it’s much more sinister than that. The castle was constructed some five hundred years ago by the only queen borne of the house of Laurenz. Queen Magira was thought to be the most beautiful woman in the whole of the continent. As the only offspring of King Charon, she became Queen of Osghast at the tender age of thirteen.”

  Thalia yawned. “How nice for her.”

  Tristan ignored her rudeness. “As we all know, young girls can be very jealous of one another, so when construction began on the castle, she insisted that the royal architect include a tower right in the center of the building that was higher than any that had ever been attempted. It was to be lined with heavy limestone bricks, brought from the mountains. No one was quite sure what use she had for such a thing, but as Magira was queen, no one questioned her motives or why the tower had to be so high.”

  “Well, towers are generally watchtowers, and at that time, there would have been many dragons…”

  “Well, that’s what everyone thought,” Tristan continued. “Until the day of the spring festival. People came from all over the continent for reveling. As was the custom, all the young, unmarried maidens came into the square for a ritual dance. Traditionally, this was the time at which all the unmarried men would choose their brides. Just before the dance began, Queen Magira entered the square, bowing to each of the girls. As she walked through the crowd, she would stop at the most beautiful maidens and place a kiss on their foreheads. One by one, the girls who had been kissed were gathered up by the guards and led into the castle and high up into the tower. This tower. They were marched up the spiraling staircase to this very room where the guards barricaded them inside and set the entire room aflame. It is said that the screams of the dying maidens could be heard all over the continent, but because of the height of the tower, no one in the street below could smell the burning flesh.”

  As Thalia stared around the room, she could see that the bricks were blackened and glossy like obsidian. She ran her fingertips along the walls and noticed that there were tiny striations that had been gouged into the bricks. She held up her hand, matching the pattern of the marks. “Mercy be upon me,” she whispered.

  “Oh don’t worry, my lady,” Tristan chuckled. “I would never be so barbaric as to burn you alive. Though, the penalty for killing a king is probably less merciful…”

  “You know I didn’t kill anyone!”

  Tristan sighed and gestured to the guard with a smug wave. Thalia cringed as the door slammed behind the guard and then the ominous clicking of the lock. He paced around her, as if giving her a clinical examination. Perhaps he was searching for signs that the dragon had marked her in some way or left his scent behind. It made Thalia feel dirty, and she crossed her arms over her chest, concentrating on being unbothered. “Yes, Thalia. I know you didn’t. I know you didn’t because I did.”

  Thalia gasped, his blunt admission hitting like a kick to the belly. “You?”

  “Oh, don’t look so surprised. I wouldn’t be the first crown prince to seize power from his father with violence.”

  “How could you?”

  “You’re far too sentimental, Huntress. Call it a minor indemnity. My father was dying slowly, succumbing to weakness and bringing the entire kingdom down with him. It was inevitable that I take control before he lost everything.”

  “You lying, murderous little snake…”

  “Must we resort to name-calling? It doesn’t become you. I was only doing what was necessary to ensure all our futures. And it was clear that he wasn’t going to bow out gracefully. Believe me, Thalia. I tried.”

  She scoffed. “I can just imagine your trying.”

  Tristan feigned hurt, clutching his chest and giving an exaggerated bow at her feet. “You wound me, my lady. To think that you could paint me a villain. Perhaps I am, but I can assure you that a few small sacrifices are just a cross I will have to bear for the good of my people.”

  “The good of yourself,” Thalia spat, jerking back from him as he tried to lay a greasy palm on her shoulder. “And what do you mean ‘sacrifice’? Surely you aren’t thinking of attempting Sheakhol again.” She swallowed a smile of her own, thinking of how this time would be pointless.

  “Oh, I don’t think that will be necessary. He’ll come for you himself. Assuming he still wants you. I can’t imagine why, but seeing as how you haven’t been destroyed after all this time.”

  Thalia turned away, her head high in defiance. “Malik would never be so stupid as to come here for me.” She glanced over her shoulder, hoping that he couldn’t hear the doubt in her voice. It wasn’t stupidity that would draw Malik back to Thane. It was love, bravery, and honor. Three qualities the sniveling child-king would never understand. “Your traps are very obvious, Majesty.”

  Tristan gave a snort of disdain. “There is no trap. A trap would imply that I want to capture your precious dragon alive.” He started to say more, but paused, pressing a finger to his lip and pacing. Finally, he spoke. “You know, perhaps the Fae witch was right.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Oh Thalia,” he said, walking around and placing his hands on her shoulders and rubbing slowly down her arms. It was an almost sexual caress, and Thalia cringed. “No need to be coy. Mab told me everything. About the curse and how to break it. She told me about you, you know.”

  “About me?”

  “Oh yes, little Huntress. She told me that you were the only one who could destroy the dragon. I didn’t believe her myself, at first. Of course, there’s more than one way to destroy a dragon. Making him an impotent pet would certainly do the job. And how perfect. You make him fall in love with you. I kill my father and blame you for it. Arrest you and throw you in the Screaming Tower and wait for him to come. By now he’s just a stuttering weakling. He’ll be so easy to kill, Thalia.”

  She shook her head, trying to block out his words. Had it all been for nothing? It seemed now that she’d saved Malik only to make him vulnerable. “No one will believe you… I didn’t kill King Christophe.”

  Now his arms snaked around her, and he spoke softly against her ear. “Do you think anyone cares? I’m the king, and you’re just a dragonslayer. A dirty little tribe child. They will believe it because it is easy to believe. People aren’t interested in the truth. They’re interested in justice…”

  “Justice is truth,” she gasped, trying to pull away from him.

  “Oh, you poor darling. Justice has nothing whatever to do with truth. Justice is finding someone to blame. And here I thought my little gift had gone to waste after that ridiculous ritual.”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked, finally pushing him off and backing away.

  “The dagger I gave you to injure the dragon. I told you it was one of a kind.” He pulled a dagger from a sheath at his side and held it out to her. “That wasn’t exactly the truth.” She didn’t want to touch it. She could feel an evil energy radiating off of the steel. This weapon was the twin of the one he’d given her, right down to the slight curve of the blade and the placement of carved feathers on the raven at the hilt. He held it out to her once more. “Take it. I implore you, Huntress. It isn’t everyone that gets to touch a blade that has tasted the blood of a king. It’s quite a beautiful piece of craftsmanship. The serrations in the blade leave a very distinct wound.”

  Thalia’s blood turned to ice in her veins. She wanted to grab the dagger and plunge it right into Tristan’s heart, but then she really would have killed the king. Right now was not the time. That guard was right outside the door, and there was no other escape route. She’d be found out immediately and most likely executed on the spot. She would have to bide her time. He’d trapped her much too easily in h
is web of deceit. “What do you intend to do with me, sire?” she said, her voice nearly a whisper.

  “I can’t risk Malik thinking you’re dead.” He sheathed the dagger and smiled. “Ah, hope. The great motivator. The key is for him to think that there is hope that he can save you. He’ll come to the castle, and I’ll be waiting.”

  Thalia laughed bitterly. “All your scheming. All this time thinking that you’re the hero of your own story.” She stepped closer, their noses nearly touching. She would show Tristan no fear. “You’re pathetic. And it will come home to roost. I promise you that.”

  “I shall truly enjoy killing you when the time comes, my lady.”

  “Funny, I had the same thought.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Are you certain this is going to work?” Malik had his doubts as he pulled the dark cloak around his shoulders. What Bella was proposing was absolutely preposterous. Of course, he had to admit that her logic was sound. Why else would the other skins dissolve into ash, leaving only one heavy pelt of scales lying on the floor? And leather armor fashioned from dragon scales was rare but not unheard of. But being able to take the dragon form at will? The thought seemed a bit odd even for a fairy.

  “I’m not particularly certain of anything,” Bella replied, stroking the muzzle of the enormous black stallion that would carry Malik back to Thane. “Only that Thalia must be saved and Tristan must be overthrown.”

  Malik grasped the saddle and heaved himself astride the horse’s back, giving no sign of his former awkwardness. Rage had forced him to acclimate to these new dimensions. Yes, he was enraged. So many years he’d spent outcast and alone, and now that he’d finally broken free, no one was going to take that away from him. Not even a king ravenous for power. “All I care about is getting her back,” he snarled, looking down on Belladonna. “Thalia is all that matters.”