Promise of Darkness

by Bec McMaster

  And sometimes the Darkness takes a piece of his soul with it.

  "Whatever you do," he whispers, "don't run. Don't move from my side. And don’t scream."

  12

  The banes dissolve from the tree line, stalking us in a low crouch. My breath catches, and I unconsciously step closer to Thiago, my gloved knuckles brushing against his shoulder.

  "Come to me," he whispers, droplets of blood marking the pristine snow by his knees. "That's it."

  His shadows fan across the snow, snaking around the banes.

  “Look at thissh,” hisses one of the banes with a coughing laugh. “A wicked prinsh, on hish kneesh before ush.”

  “Delicioush,” growls another.

  “Itsh the traitor,” rasps another. “The Bashtard.”

  Another merely snaps, lunging forward with yellowed teeth clashing.

  I swing the sword, more of a threat than anything else, trying to stop them from rushing us. They’re everywhere. Circling us. Growling under their breath as they watch the sword with yellow eyes.

  “Vi,” Thiago rasps. “I told you not to move.”

  “Then do what you need to do.”

  Tearing open his shirt, he falls forward onto his knuckles. Shadows move beneath his skin. No, not shadows. Tattoos. They writhe with malevolent grace, thick and violent. And then suddenly, they’re no longer content to remain in his skin.

  “Thiago,” I whisper as tentacles of pure shadow lift out of his skin.

  “Don’t move,” he rasps.

  The banes slink closer.

  I don’t know where to look. Every hair down my spine lifts as I face the banes, because I can hear little whispers behind me, as though something lurks within those shadows.

  “Rip hish throat out,” hisses one of the banes.

  “Take him for queen,” growls another.

  “Why don’t you come closer and try it,” Thiago replies coldly.

  As one, they lift their heads and howl.

  And then they do exactly as he suggests, launching forward as one.

  I swing my sword, iron whining in the chill night air. It meets resistance, and then hot blood splashes across my face. I’m about to follow up but Thiago grabs my ankle.

  Shadows erupt, plunging us into a cloud of darkness and swallowing the banes whole. Yelps and snarls echo through the clearing, along with the crunch of bones. It’s bloody and brutal, and I don’t know what’s worse, the sound of the banes screaming in pain and rage, or the hissing little whispers that fill the shadows.

  “Eat them all up….”

  “So sweet the screams…. Tasty, tasty bones…. Crunch them and chew them and swallow them down.”

  Thiago’s arms came around me, pinning me to his hard body as his power tears through the banes. I bury my face against his chest, trying not to listen to the Darkness’s devastating whispers.

  It’s as if the malevolence is alive and comprised of several entities.

  “More. Want more.”

  Something touches my hair, and I scream as I feel its chill whisper down my spine.

  “Don’t worry,” the Prince of Evernight tells me. “You’re safe in my arms. You’ll always be safe.”

  The wind whips around us, something hissing in furious demand.

  “Not her. Never her,” Thiago snaps.

  “Prince is weak,” whispers something behind me. “Prince is bleeding. Who is Prince to make demands?”

  “Begone!” he bellows, flinging up his arms.

  “Tasty, tasty blood—” Right behind him. “Wants it.”

  His weight leans on me, as if they’re sapping him of strength. I catch a glimpse of the strain on his face. The sound of slobbering echoes, and then he screams and hot blood splashes against my cheek.

  “Keep me safe,” I tell him, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing my face to his throat. Greedy hands tear at my velvet cloak, and something slices my thigh. “You can do this. You can control them. I know you can. You promised you’d keep me safe.”

  I don’t know what sort of magic this is, but I know now why the queens fear him.

  Blood splashes as the creatures take their thwarted rage out upon what remains of the banes. Strain tightens Thiago’s jaw, and I press my hand to it, stroking his cheek with my thumb.

  “Control them, curse you.” I don’t know if being torn apart by… whatever this is… would be better or worse than being eaten alive. “Control them!”

  “I’m… trying.”

  Out of pure desperation, I press my lips to his.

  It’s as if the sun suddenly rises.

  The gloom seems to lessen, and suddenly I can’t hear those malevolent whispers anymore.

  Thiago stills, his hands clinging to my shirt. And then his mouth is moving hungrily over mine, meeting me with an urgency he’s never displayed until now. “Vi,” he whispers, shaking in my arms. “Vi.” And then a trembling hand is sliding through my hair, curling into a fist, as if he’s trying to anchor himself.

  The Darkness vanishes abruptly. The shadows dissipate.

  I come back to myself, my forehead resting against his as we both pant for breath. He’s getting heavier, and I realize he must be almost listing toward me for our heads to touching.

  “What was that?”

  No Seelie fae could have wielded such power. That was pure Unseelie magic, malicious and dangerous. The clearing is splashed with blood and bone and other pieces of flesh I don’t want to identify. There’s nothing left of our attackers.

  There’s barely anything left of us.

  Thiago groans, his weight nearly driving me to my knees. Before he can answer, he collapses with a groan at my feet.

  I kneel at his side, checking his pulse. "Your Highness?"

  His skin’s clammy to the touch. Dangerously so.

  "Thiago?" I whisper.

  But there’s no answer.

  A chill settles on my shoulders. It’s so fucking quiet now, without the banes or Thiago’s Darkness. I blow into my cupped hands, then realize the snow settling on my shoulders is starting to penetrate my clothes.

  I’m feeling the cold.

  Which means Thiago’s wards are failing. I need to get us to shelter. Fast. And then I don’t know what I’m going to do.

  13

  Wind whips my fur vest and shirt around me as I drag Thiago through the snow.

  I made a makeshift sled with his own cloak, and then packed my own around him to keep him warm. My own blood runs hot, but by the time we’ve gone half a mile, even I’m starting to feel the bitter chill creep into my toes and fingers.

  He said the hunting cabin wasn't far, and I found a narrow track through the trees that clearly leads somewhere.

  Please, please let it be the cabin….

  Behind us, I can make out the distant howl of banes discovering what’s left of their fallen comrades. If I don’t find shelter shortly, I’ll be dealing with more of the creatures, and this time I’m on my own.

  The blizzard sweeps cold curtains of snow across the world until I can barely see the path anymore. Every step I take grows harder, my boots sinking into the snow and the weight of the prince growing heavier.

  “Curse you, Your Royal Arrogance,” I breathe, pricks of cold slashing my cheeks. “You trapped me with this treaty, dragged me out here, kissed me, and then bled all over me. Don’t you dare die on me. Don’t you dare.”

  Only silence answers me.

  “My mother will dance on your grave,” I tell him, turning and gripping the cloak with both hands as I haul him. “And I will dance with her. I swear I will. I’ll tell the whole world you were eaten by a bane. The almighty Prince of Darkness felled by a mutt.” I squat at his side, feeling for his weak pulse. It’s still there, but the flicker of it worries me. “I’ll make up poems, have them sing ballads about your inglorious end…. What rhymes with Thiago?”

  Curse him. Blood wells through the makeshift bandages I applied, melting the snowy slush that settles on his chest.
He’s definitely getting heavier.

  I blink, and don’t recognize where I am.

  Each step seems slower, heavier. Shaking my head, I find the trail and push on. This has to lead to the cabin. I won’t consider any other possibility.

  “Don’t you dare stop breathing, you stubborn, infuriating bastard.”

  Or else I’ll never know why he saved me.

  “You owe me an answer. You owe me…”

  Another kiss.

  I’m almost about to sink to my knees and rest, my entire body aching with both desperation and exhaustion, when something catches my eye.

  A darkened blur looms out of the forest in front of me. The forest clears suddenly, and ahead of me I can just make out the sharp ridgeline of a roof. Taking a small faelight out of my pack, I lift it up and shake it to stir the magic. Pale silvery blue light washes over the gables of an old, weather-hardened cabin. Carved wyverns and leering goblins hiss down at me from the gables. My knees almost give out.

  Thank the Darkness.

  A sob catches in my throat. Against all odds, I’ve managed to lead us directly to the cabin.

  My fingers are so stiff I can barely open the latch. The dark, musty scent of an unopened room meets me, but I don’t care. It’s warmer in here. Dry. And I can bar the door against the monsters tracking us, though hopefully they’ll lose our scent in the storm.

  Thiago stirs as I haul him over the threshold. I slump to the floor with him half-nestled in my lap, desperately trying to see if he’s awake.

  “Your Highness?”

  I shake him.

  Nothing.

  “Thiago?”

  The faintest flutter of his lashes makes me release a pent-up breath I didn’t realize I was holding. The prince stirs again, a faint groan coming from his throat.

  “Vi?” he whispers.

  I’m so relieved I could kiss him. “We’re safe. I found your hunting lodge. Are you in pain? Are you cold? Can you feel your fingers? Your toes?”

  His head lolls to the side, his eyes rolling up in his head, but somehow, he catches hold of my fingers. The faintest smile graces his hard mouth as he rouses again. Then he winces. “Told you… that you couldn’t keep your hands off me.”

  Of all the things….

  I rest my forehead on his. “I swear to Maia that I will drop you in the nearest snowdrift—”

  “No, you won’t.”

  I half-laugh, half-sob. No, I won’t.

  "Why? Why did you come after me? You knew the trap was there, didn't you! Why sacrifice yourself for me?"

  "I made a promise," he whispers, smiling through bloodied teeth. "To always protect you."

  Always? A chill runs through me, one that has nothing to do with fear. "What does that mean?"

  More cursed unanswered questions.

  But his eyes roll back in his head, and there is no answer.

  And if I don’t move swiftly, there never will be.

  14

  The hunting cabin is freezing.

  There are wards carved into the doorframe, ancient, ancient fae glyphs I barely recognize, but I do manage to wet them with his blood. Instantly, I feel them awaken, protecting the cabin from intruders until the magic in his blood dwindles or the glyphs weaken.

  I can't feel my toes in my boots, and for a hot-blooded Asturian with summer in her veins, that’s a troubling sign. Shivering, I cross to the hearth, finding a fire already laid. The current simmers in my blood, a mere spark. I grit my teeth and call fire to life, setting the tinder blazing.

  Light flares, revealing a rough-hewn log cabin decorated with heavy furniture that is draped with decadent furs. Four chairs. A table. Two chests of drawers. A bed.

  It will do.

  Blood stains the hard slabs of muscle in the prince’s chest, and his shoulder is ravaged. He desperately needs healing. I cut his clothes from him to examine the wounds. The edges are gray and ashen with iron poisoning. Some of the smaller gashes are working to heal themselves, but sluggish blood pools around the larger, deeper wounds.

  But it’s the black bruises that decorate his arms and back that worries me. They look like teeth marks, if something with a million razor-sharp teeth that size existed.

  I find a clean shirt in one of the chests and bandage his wounds as best I can. The chill of his skin bothers me the most.

  There’s no possible way I can lever his enormous body up onto the bed, so I drag the quilts and blankets down onto the fur in front of the fire, creating a warm cocoon.

  If I can get him dry and warm, hopefully he’ll last long enough for his people to find us.

  Of all the ways I expected this day to end....

  “Just so you know, I’m not trying to get you naked for my sake,” I mutter. A part of me is certain his eyes will blink open again the second I have him bare to his skin. He’ll smile at me mockingly, as if to say he knew I wouldn’t be able to resist him.

  Except, there is no smile.

  No hint he’s even breathing beyond the faint flicker in his throat, let alone aware.

  “Thiago?”

  His head lolls bonelessly to the side as I release his chin.

  I curse under my breath as I strip his leather breeches down his long legs. Every inch of him is bloodied and bruised with those horrible mottled suction marks, and I still can’t look at the gaping holes in his chest. It hurts too much to think of him never mocking me again.

  And it shouldn’t hurt.

  He’s the enemy of my people.

  The prince who holds a blade to the throat of everyone I love.

  A monster.

  Except, he hasn’t hurt me. Not once. He’s not taken advantage of the treaty beyond a single stolen kiss each day—and if I’m being honest, I don’t hate it that much.

  Iron poisoning often ends in a fever, but... had he drained himself too much in trying to defend us? Me?

  I touch his skin, but every inch of him feels frozen.

  And I’m dangerously warm.

  Don’t you dare even think it. “You are not getting naked with the Prince of Evernight.”

  The silence echoes accusingly.

  If he dies, then I’ll bear this burden on my conscience.

  He did save my life, after all.

  Slipping out of my shirt and breeches, I pause with my fingers on the hem of my short chemise. It’s not as though he can take advantage of this moment of weakness, but still….

  I slide under the fur cloaks with him. My chemise shields me from the press of his naked skin against mine, but I’m desperately aware of how close I came to dying today.

  I can’t help a shiver as I wrap my arms and body around him. Every inch of him is like ice. I’m practically glued to him, rubbing my palms against his arms to try and force his circulation to warm him.

  “If you die,” I whisper, “then you’ll never realize you finally got me in your bed.”

  There’s no answer.

  He’s no better by morning.

  Cursing him under my breath, I check his wounds and try to rub heat into his skin. Black shadows darken the veins near his deepest wounds, rousing my worst fears.

  I rest my head on his chest, listening to the racing beat of his heart. Iron poisoning. The fever will be coming. And with his wounds barely knitting together, I’m not certain he’ll be able to survive it.

  This calls for drastic measures.

  I remove his bloodied bandages, washing the wounds clean. Still raw and bloody, which bodes ill. Fae heal from practically anything. This should have been smooth, unblemished skin by now.

  The fire of my magic would burn the iron poisoning from his blood. If I could summon it….

  “I really hope you’re not relying on this,” I whisper. My magic is erratic at the best of times. Healing is a gift through my mother’s bloodlines, which makes it easier for me than most, though at best, I can heal minor scrapes and bruises.

  There’s no answer.

  The tattoos on his chest swirl over his pec
torals like shadows, dark and inky. They look like they’re about to separate from his skin and envelop him, the way his magic did earlier. I reach out tentatively, placing my palm over the worst of those puncture wounds. I've seen that symbol before. Seen those tattoos? An aching pain lances behind my eye, and I gasp, pushing away from the thought. The ache subsides with a weary grumble, but the threat of it remains.

  Setting my palm over his bandages, I risk letting a little of my power stir through the wound. A gasp parts his lips, and those sultry black lashes flicker against his tanned cheeks. Dangerously green eyes blink open.

  “Vi?”

  Thank Maia. A gasp escapes me. “You son of a bitch. I thought you were dying.”

  "Sorry to… disappoint," he rasps, and I grab the cup I filled with water and tip it to his lips, cupping the back of his neck to help him drink.

  Thiago collapses back on the furs, the muscles in his throat straining as his chest heaves. “What happened?” He blinks, turning his head. “Where…?”

  “I found your hunting cabin. And I saved your life.”

  “So, you did.” He laughs, but it dies suddenly, and he repeats, a little more softly, “So you did.”

  “Don’t think I’m not going to hold it over your head. You owe me.”

  “A life for a life.” His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks. “You didn't leave me."

  It has to be the fever dreams. "Of course I didn’t leave you. I— I can hardly uphold my side of the treaty if I left you to die in the snow.”

  “Don’t leave me.” His fingers twine with mine. “Not this time. Don’t ever go.”

  I stare down at our linked fingers.

  He’s fading again. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.

  “I can’t promise that.” There’s just enough of Maia’s blood in my veins to make oath giving dangerous. “You know I can’t promise that. But I’m not going to leave you here to rot. It’s not as though I know where we are, or how to return to Valerian.”

  Thiago turns his head restlessly. “Don’t leave me.”

  “Here, you’re burning up.” I reach for the cup of water and a damp cloth.