“You’ll find, princess, you made a good choice when you decided to come with me. Vojtech is lacking in many ways.”
Scarko found herself gazing at the gentle points of Rhodri’s ears, and he grinned at her in a way that made him appear younger, less warrior-like, more playful.
Rhodri’s fingers were splayed firm around her waist, the hard flex of muscle comforting against her body. She did not put weight on her foot at all.
“Hold on,” he whispered.
But before they could disappear, Scarko nearly trembling with nerves, the door to her rooms burst open.
Rhodri’s fingers gripped her tighter, pulled her closer, as Vojtech, pale eyes narrowed, stormed into the room. His face was etched in fury, and she felt her hands, down by her sides in fists, shaking. She went to reach for her knife.
“Now, now, Scarko,” Vojtech’s words were cruel, even as his eyes were on Rhodri’s, “we both know that won’t do you any good.”
He lunged for them both, so animal-like, so predatory, that Scarko had no time to think even as Rhodri pushed her behind him. But she would not hide any longer, not hide behind Rhodri, not hide within Vojtech.
She roughly shoved Rhodri aside as he growled at Vojtech, and she stood between them.
Vojtech was breathing heavily, but that serpentine smile slid onto his face as he beheld her, her own face a mask of fury.
“I’m leaving you,” she began, willing her voice not to tremble even as her legs did. “And I will not come back.”
“You wouldn’t last a night without me, Scarko. Dreaming of your Praeminister no doubt, beckoning this one,” he pointed to Rhodri behind her, “to bed with you to keep you safe. Does it make you happy that he killed him for you? Is that what you wanted from me? Murder? Well you surely got that, didn’t you? The Praeminister and Klaus. Or have you forgotten him already?”
“I. Hate. You.” And even though she knew it would be futile, even though she knew she could not overpower him, she reached for the dagger in her boot.
And as Rhodri came up behind her, his hands once more going tightly around her waist, she dug the blade into Vojtech’s heart, every bit of hatred, shame, smallness, every ounce of anger plunging right along with it.
Vojtech gasped, his hands going for the knife.
She knew it would not kill him.
But as the world spun around her, as Rhodri corralled them in a dark, cold wind, taking them from the Order, she felt a tiny hint of satisfaction at the betrayal in Vojtech’s pale eyes.
Epilogue
A War is Postponed
When the blackness and the wind had faded and Scarko felt as if she had spun herself in circles on a full stomach, she tried to stand upright on her good foot, tried to take in the view before her without keeling over. Still, she staggered backwards, directly into the warmth of Rhodri, who wrapped an arm around her front, keeping her close. She let him, blinking in the view before her.
It was warm, even as the sun was setting.
There was no cold wind here, only a gentle breeze that brought scents of citrus and a summer’s night to mind. There were many mountains in the distance, all green, and the grass she stood on was green, lush. Carved into the mountainside directly before them, high up above their heads, was a wall of glass, a window that ran the length of a sparkling dark blue castle, turrets glittering in the dying sun, as if they were made of sapphires.
The castle was not enclosed with a fence, and Scarko wondered if that were because it would be nearly impossible to reach without guards spotting anyone approaching.
She angled her head to Rhodri, who loosened his grip on her, taking in her eyes as she took in the castle.
“This,” she whispered, “this is yours?”
Rhodri smiled slowly. “It’s mine.”
Scarko glanced down at the black tunic and pants she wore. “Can I…”
“Change? Before you meet the Dark Council?”
Dark Council. His court. Lord of the Southern Nacht Lands.
“Yes,” she murmured, turning back to gaze up again at the blue castle.
“You’ll find, in that attire,” there was a smile in his words, and something else, too, “that you’ll fit right in.” And without another word, he took her hand, and they vanished in black wind, shooting toward the place Rhodri called home.
Acknowledgements
This book is for you, dear reader. Thank you for liking my work enough to pay for it, or steal it, or borrow it from a friend. It means more than I can possibly say, so I’ll stop trying.
I would be remiss not to mention the artists that I listened to on repeat while diving into this dark world:
Birdmask
Katatonia
Polyphia
Priest
Soen
Swallow the Sun
Three Days Grace
Zeal & Ardor
If you need background music for the book, there you go.
STRANGER RITUALS will continue, because, with that ending, I really have no choice, do I?
See you soon.
Stranger Rituals Page 24
