by Laura Kaye
She offered him her hand. “In other words, live or die, we’ll do it together?”
He wrapped his fingers around hers and pulled her to a stand. “Exactly.”
He closed the distance between them and gazed into the blue depths of her eyes. Her breath caressed his neck. The presence of an impending kiss hung between them. He wanted to kiss her. Duty, honor. As if reading his mind, she tilted her chin upward. Like a moth drawn to her heat, his lips lowered.
“Here we are,” Orvis announced as he sidled into the room.
Rhys turned to glower at him. “Wonderful.”
Ravyn stepped back and smiled at the innkeeper wrestling the quiver of arrows and crossbow through the opening.
Once he cleared the doorjamb, he proudly held up his prizes. “For you.”
“Oh, Orvis, they’re perfect,” Ravyn said.
The way she ran an admiring hand along the curve of the polished wood stirred Rhys’s blood. Appreciative fingers plucked the string. She took the black bow awkwardly in one hand while gripping the book in the other and looked at him. “Will you teach me to shoot?”
Rhys took the weapon, testing its weight. “It’s a good fit for you.” He handed it back. “I’ll teach you.”
She smiled, and he suddenly wanted to grant her every wish. I must be going soft.
“Where did you get such a weapon?” he said, turning to Orvis. “It’s a masterpiece.”
Orvis beamed with pride. “Made it myself.”
Ravyn shoved the bow toward the innkeeper. “I couldn’t possibly take it.”
“Nonsense.” He waved a hand in the air. “I’ve got a dozen just like it in my shop. Had loads of time on my hands when Willa was pregnant.” He winked at Ravyn. “A man needs a hobby.”
“You mean besides getting your wife pregnant?” Rhys asked.
Orvis wiggled his eyebrows and again waved the offered bow away. “Take it. I want you to have it. If my little girl was in need, I’d want somebody to help.”
Ravyn’s eyes grew wide. After a second, she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Orvis. You and your family have shown me more kindness than anybody in my entire life.” She chanced a look at Rhys. “Besides Rhys.”
“Weeell.” Orvis blushed. “You two are pretty easy to get attached to. Now, you better get ready. Go pack. Might I suggest waiting until morning to leave? Night cloaks the Bane. Better to fight them in the light of day.”
“I agree,” Rhys said. “We’ll leave at first light. I’d be surprised if we saw much of the Bane for a day or two after today’s fight. We should take advantage of the lull, get a good night’s sleep, and head out early tomorrow.”
“A sound plan. And if my nose hasn’t fooled me, I’d say we’re having Willa’s famous stew. Full bellies and restful sleep is what you have to look forward to tonight.”
Yes, but for how long? As much as Rhys didn’t want Willa to be right, he knew her prediction of war might be true. Today’s battle was merely a harbinger of things to come.
Chapter Eleven
Sha-hera stood to the left of Vile’s throne, her shoulder braced against the high, fanned back of bleached bones. The conniving bitch had run straight to the king. Icarus stayed the compulsion to launch himself at her and rip out her throat.
“Icarus.” Vile’s tone was deceptively mild, but threatening enough to draw Icarus’s glare from Sha-hera. “It has come to my attention that you might not be working in the best interest of the Bane. Tell me this isn’t so.”
“My king.” He bowed low. “All my actions are for the good of the Bane and for your glory.”
“I want to believe you, Icarus. Really, I do.” The king tapped a long black talon against the arm of his throne. “But the latest report I received was rather disturbing.”
Snickers of laughter from the watching demons rippled around the throne room. Sha-hera’s lip curled in a mocking smile. He would torture her before he tore her apart, piece by piece. He would listen to her plead and beg for mercy, and then he would torture her some more. No suffering was too cruel for the back-biting harpy.
“I’m afraid the reports you’ve received are inaccurate, Father.” He stressed the paternal title to remind Sha-hera he was no mere soldier. His stare never wavered from the female demon. “I fear these lies are motivated by greed. The Bringer has powers beyond what we originally thought.”
“Really?” Vile stood and walk to the end of the dais. “How interesting.”
For the first time, Icarus saw the lie in his father’s eyes. His words feigned ignorance, but Vile definitely knew about the woman’s power, and there was something false in the way he moved that Icarus couldn’t place.
“All the more reason to secure her so I can absorb those powers.” The king descended the steps to the throne room floor. He kicked the carcass of a dead dog, its flesh stripped long ago by the filthy demons. “No other Bringer has the power I need.” With his hands clenched behind his back as if deep in contemplation, Vile meandered toward Icarus, stopping inches away from him. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I cannot open The Abyss of Souls without her.”
Icarus stilled. “The Abyss of Souls?” He struggled to show no outward signs of alarm as Vile stared at him, gauging his reaction. “Legend says he who opens The Abyss of Souls controls an unstoppable army.”
An arrogant smile spread across Vile’s face. “Does that prospect not thrill you—son?”
Icarus said nothing, acknowledging neither the slurring con-descension with which Vile said son, nor the revelation that his father had not been as idle as he’d thought. Opening The Abyss of Souls would guarantee Vile’s domination and guarantee Icarus an eternity under his father’s brutal rule. The ground on which Icarus stood was slowly crumbling. This could not happen.
“A worthy plan for a worthy king,” he said, bowing his head in a way he hoped exhibited subordination. “If I have erred, it has been on the side of caution, Father. I was not aware of your plans.”
“I appreciate your efforts to keep us all safe, Icarus, but I want the Bringer—now.”
Icarus’s gaze slid to Sha-hera. Did she know of Vile’s plans? She’d called him out, directly challenging him. Did she believe the spot beside Vile’s throne was already hers? If she knew of Vile’s plan to open The Abyss of Souls, she would most definitely want to position herself as close to the king as possible and reap the benefits.
Vile’s voice echoed through the chamber. “Perhaps I have worked you too hard.” He gripped Icarus’s shoulder and steered him toward the group of succubi. “I command you to take your ease and enjoy the fruits of my labor.”
He gestured toward the near-naked female demons lounging on padded benches inside the pleasure pen. The king’s whores. They smiled and cooed, eyeing him longingly. A voluptuous succubus ran her hands down her breasts and tweaked her nipples. Groans of pleasure issued from her mouth. Icarus suppressed the urge to bare his fangs at the group of females he considered no better than dogs, but instead he smiled, knowing Vile watched him.
“You’re too kind, my king, but I’d rather continue with my quest.”
“I’m not asking. I’m telling you.” Vile’s dictate held no room for debate. “I have other plans to put in motion. Sha-hera.”
“Yes, my king.” She jumped from the dais and fell on one knee before Vile.
Icarus curled his talons into his palms. It took all of his self-control not to tear off her head.
“Take your army of succubi and do what needs to be done. I want the Bringer at any cost. Now.”
“Yes, my king.” She stood and slid a glance toward Icarus and smiled. “I will not fail you.”
“We’ll see,” Vile said mockingly.
Sha-hera strode past Icarus, head held high, arrogance firmly in place. The strength of will it took not to attack her nearly overwhelmed him. Now was not the time to lose control. He needed to appear compliant to the king. He focused his attention on the preening females.
&nbs
p; “Icarus,” his father drawled.
He pretended difficulty with pulling his gaze away from the succubi. “Yes, my king?”
Vile chuckled and held his arm toward the female demons as if offering Icarus a roomful of treasure. “I command you to take your ease.”
He gave Vile a compliant smile. “As you wish, Father.”
“This doesn’t mean poring over your maps and planning more Bringer attacks. You will bed one of my whores. I command it.”
Vile was trying very hard to keep him occupied, perhaps a little too hard. Icarus bowed his head in obedience. “As you wish, my king. A particular succubus has promised to do the most amazing thing to me. Perhaps I will seek her out.”
Vile smiled like a proud father. “If you find her worthy, send her to me when you’re finished. I’m always up for new pleasures.”
Icarus gritted his teeth. The thought of sharing anything with his father made him sick. “I hope you don’t mind waiting a bit. It may take quite some time.”
Vile let out a bark of laughter. “If she’s that good, I definitely want a taste.”
Shouts and howls erupted from the horde of demons. Drums thundered and the whining notes of the dancers’ music began. The king’s whores spilled from their pen, gyrating and twirling toward the king. With a low, respectful bow and a wicked smile, Icarus strode from the throne room.
The heavy beats faded as he headed down the dark tunnel leading to the soldiers’ training area where Sha-hera and her army would be preparing for their mission. He wanted to know what she planned. Vile would be furious if he detected Icarus’s hand in Sha-hera’s failure, but it was a chance he was willing to take.
The tunnel narrowed and dipped into the bowels of the Shadow World. Darkness enveloped him. Few demons besides soldiers dared to travel here. There were things in the deep. Things even demons feared. He’d explored many of the untraveled tubes and caverns, but there were many more he hadn’t. The Shadow World sprawled beneath the Upperland of Inness, an entire world in itself.
The muffled excitement of voices flowed from a doorway farther down the tunnel. Sha-hera’s soldiers. Icarus pressed his body against the cold stone and slipped into a wide crevice in the wall. A few feet in, the space widened to reveal jagged carved steps. Silently, he followed the steps up and around to a rock shelf, on alert to any other demon that might be lurking in the shadows. The ledge jutted over the chamber below where Sha-hera and her army now gathered.
He crept forward, making sure to stay away from the light. Below, the succubi army crowded around a stone slab table, arguing and plotting their attack to retrieve the Bringer. He smiled at their plan. Ignorant fools.
Chapter Twelve
With hushed voices, Rhys and Ravyn said their good-byes to most of the Giles family. All but the three youngest had risen early to help them secure their supplies and see them off on their journey. Tears threatened, burning behind Ravyn’s eyes as first Willa, then Orvis, wrapped her in affectionate hugs.
Ravyn didn’t regret her decision to leave with Rhys, but she couldn’t help but pine for the simple life staying at the inn would have afforded. Whether she wanted it or not, the Giles family would have pressed and molded her into their lives, accepting her as one of them. She knew this as surely as she knew her own name. But that was not the choice she had made, and she wouldn’t lament her decision. Not for long, anyway. Perhaps a day or two to miss her friends, but after that it would be time to face her future.
Willie helped her mount Sampson, his hand lingering a fraction too long against her thigh. “Take care of yourself…Lady Romelda.”
She smiled at the use of her alias. “You do the same, Willie.”
“You can always come back,” he said hopefully. His green eyes bore into her. “There will always be a place for you.”
The lump she’d been swallowing around since she’d gotten up this morning grew and pushed against her throat. Her voice cracked. She sniffed and struggled not to cry. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”
Rhys gently slapped the boy on the back. “Take care, Willie. My thanks for tending Sampson.”
Willie grasped Rhys’s hand with manly vigor. “My pleasure, Lord Blackwell. I was only doing as Lady Ravyn requested.” Willie stepped away from the horse, his gaze never leaving Ravyn’s face.
Rhys climbed behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against his chest. The heavy folds of his cloak draped her shoulders, providing a double layer of warmth against the morning chill. She relaxed into him, taking strength from the feel of his arm. His touch seemed to keep her tears and melancholy at bay. She had to remember she wasn’t alone anymore, even if that’s what it felt like at this moment.
Rhys directed Sampson across the cold, hardened mud, and Ravyn gave a final wave. It was just the two of them now.
They rode in silence for the first hour of their trip. Each mile chipped away at Ravyn, making her feel raw and unsure of what lay ahead. For so many years, she’d been confined to the abbey. Now, the current of her new life seemed to whisk her away before she could settle.
She ruminated about her decision to stay with Rhys. Her inability to run from a fight was not the only reason she’d chosen to leave the safety of the inn. When Willa had pushed his father’s diary across the table, all sensible thought and reason had fled Ravyn. At the stark look of horror on Rhys’s face, she knew she would have done anything to ease the sting of his memories.
Had he read the journal yet? The question hovered on her tongue. The need to know what awaited the Bringers was nearly unbearable, but she couldn’t ask. Last night she’d compared Bowen’s book and the tome she’d stolen from the abbey. The script was the same. More questions surfaced. Why did the abbey have Bringer books and were there more? She sighed, tired of too many questions and too few answers.
“What is it?” Rhys leaned over her shoulder.
“I was thinking about the future, Willa’s prediction of war, and the other full-bloods who might be living among us.”
“Heavy things to contemplate so early in the morning.” His breath warmed her cheek. He tightened his arm around her waist and pulled her back against him.
The warmth from his body felt good this morning. She needed it more than she needed the Sisters’ scornful voices in her head, chanting about the evils of a man’s touch. Emboldened by her uncertain future, she ran her hand along his arm. The adage Life is too short was taking on an unpleasant edge. Rhys gave her waist another light squeeze and entangled their fingers with a firm but gentle hold. Her body hummed from feelings she couldn’t identify. His nearness gave her a sense of being protected. The Sisters’ caustic rhetoric faded to an ignorable level.
For the next two hours, they spoke quietly about mundane things—the Giles family, her life in the abbey, and their favorite foods. As the sun crested the horizon, Rhys pulled on Sampson’s reins and stopped. “Do you hear that?”
Ravyn listened, cocking her head in an attempt to hear better. A low whooshing ebbed and flowed in the air. She scanned the clear morning sky but saw nothing. She let her senses flare in search of the Bane. But there was no sensation, no prickling or biting rub against her skin.
She twisted to look at Rhys. “What is it?”
He smiled. “That sound means we’ll be home by evening.”
He kicked Sampson forward, giving Ravyn no further explanation. The dense woods thinned as the path inclined up a steep hill. Large boulders littered the open field in front of them.
Ravyn sniffed. The slight tang of salt sifted through the air. The low whoosh escalated into a dull roar, rumbling on the breeze like nature’s background music.
“What is that noise?” she asked. They crested the hill and Ravyn froze, her mouth dropping open at the scene stretching before her.
Rhys stopped Sampson and leaned forward. “That, my lady, is the Sea of Alba.”
She stared, unable to comprehend the magnitude of the dark green water before her. “I’ve never s
een anything like it. I’ve read several stories where the characters crossed a sea, but…” She exhaled heavily. “But I couldn’t have imagined this.”
Mounds of water raced across the undulating surface of the sea as if chasing each other. They swelled, lifting from the surface like luminescent sea creatures ready to strike, only to crash forward and melt into a milky froth. The sea was a feast for her senses. She could even taste it on the morning air.
“I never grow tired of seeing it,” Rhys said. “Being on the water is like being home.”
The morning sun hung low as it began its trek across the sky. Ripples of light reflected along the horizon.
“It moves,” she said.
“Constantly.”
Rhys tightened his other arm around her and leaned against her back. Ravyn closed her eyes and held the moment like a precious snowflake that had no choice but to thaw and fade away. For a few scarce seconds, it was sheer perfection.
Sometimes, if a person is lucky, everything is right with the world. It may only last for a minute or an hour, but for a brief span of time, no wrongs exist. She didn’t know what awaited them a hundred feet down the trail—maybe the Bane—but right now, locked in Rhys’s arms, she savored a moment free of worry and loneliness, filled with nature’s miracle.
“I’ve read that it moves,” she said, resting her head against his shoulder. “But I didn’t understand. I thought it moved like a river, but that’s not right. Sometimes I pictured the sea like a large lake, but that’s also incorrect. And it sings.”
“What do you mean?”
“The sea’s song is different from the land’s rhythm.”
Rhys turned an ear toward the sea, as if straining to hear someone’s faint call through the wind. His eyes closed and he sat motionless, listening. A slow smile spread across his face. “It’s eerie and beautiful.”
“You can hear it?”
“Yes.” He shook his head. His stare made Ravyn breathless. “I’ve never heard the song before, never listened beneath the sound of the crashing waves. Thank you.”
