Isolde pursed her lips as her cold eyes settled on me.
“Where are you going?”
Rhys glanced down at me, then looked back at his aunt.
“Mona has decided to become a Channeler.”
She raised her eyebrows, eyeing me.
“Does she understand what that involves?”
“She will soon,” Rhys said.
“Very well.” Isolde closed her door.
Rhys gripped my arm and led me further along the corridor.
“When are you going to give me my magic back?” I asked irritably.
“Not yet.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He stopped short and glared down at me.
“You’ll see.”
He reached out suddenly and held both of my hands in his. We vanished from the spot.
Several seconds later, I felt sand beneath my feet. I opened my eyes and as the scene around me came into focus, my heart skipped a beat.
“The ogres’ island,” I gasped, gripping Rhys’ arm so hard the blood drained from my knuckles.
It felt like I was living a nightmare as I stared up at the black metal gate that towered over us, its spikes topped with human heads. “I can’t be here! If they find me—”
“They’ll break your bones one by one and then skin you alive. I know. You murdered the king’s son.”
“They why are we here? Are you insane?”
Rhys remained calm. “Do you trust me?”
I stared at him disbelievingly.
“Trust you to what?”
“To hold your life in the palm of my hand.”
I paused.
“You already do,” I whispered.
“No. You have a choice. I can give you back your magic and we can return to the island. You don’t have to do this.”
I looked again at the dark silhouette of those gates, shuddering at the screams that seemed to pierce through the mountains themselves. The smell of roasting flesh drifted over the kingdom’s high walls, being carried by the sea breeze. It was lunch time.
But I do have to do this. I don’t have a choice.
I looked up at him again. His eyes remained fixed intensely on my face, as if studying my every emotion.
“I-I’ll do it.”
“That’s not what I asked you.”
“I… trust you.”
“Are you afraid?”
I bit my lower lip to stop it trembling.
“If you really trust me, you won’t be afraid.”
“I’m not afraid.”
He ran a hand through my hair, brushing away the stray strands from my face and tucking them behind my ear.
“Hm,” he muttered. “We’ll see about that.”
He gripped my arm again and began marching me full speed toward the skull-topped gates. With each step we took, my knees felt weaker.
He stopped a few feet away from it and let go of me.
“Now you will knock on this gate, and wait until they answer.”
I was sure that I would have a heart attack before the ogres ever opened the gate.
“Wh-what will you do?”
“What I may or may not do doesn’t concern you. Just do as I say.”
What if they snap me in two the moment they lay eyes on me and Rhys doesn’t even have a chance to intervene?
He turned on his heel and began walking away in the opposite direction, toward the sea.
I looked after him desperately.
“Wait!” I croaked. “You’re not even going to give me a knife?”
He glared back at me over his shoulder. That was all the answer I needed.
Blind surrender. That’s what Rhys demands of me.
I turned back to face the gates again. My knees were shaking so much, it was a struggle to support my own weight.
Even though I felt insane, I closed the distance between myself and the gates. Picking up a rock from the ground, I slammed it with all the strength I could muster against the metal. The stone hitting the iron gave off an eerie rattle.
I took a step back and listened.
A deafening crack pierced through the air as the gate unbolted. Then there was a creak as the gates opened. I whirled around and scanned the shoreline for Rhys. He had vanished. On turning back to face the gate, I found myself standing in full view of a giant ogre. His tusks were stained with grease, and he held some kind of roasted limb in one arm. I had disturbed his lunch.
His mouth dropped open. I was sure that he recognized me. I supposed that the whole kingdom would have been put on alert for me.
“You dare show your face around here?” he boomed.
I stood rooted to the spot.
I didn’t struggle as he hurled me over his shoulder and retreated with me behind the gates. I closed my eyes, trying to block out the terror and focus on Rhys’ words. His calm face. His steady breathing.
“Do you trust me?”
I’d said yes. Now more than ever, I needed that to be true.
Even as the gate clanged shut behind us, I kept thinking of Rhys. He was the only thing I had to cling to to keep my sanity.
I didn’t open my eyes even when the ogre slammed me down against a cold floor.
“It’s the killer! I have her!” the ogre bellowed above me. His shouts echoed around me. We must have been inside the mountain already. Still I didn’t open my eyes.
Rough hands picked me up and dragged me across the floor.
“She’s here!”
Footsteps approached.
Hands closed around my neck. I gasped in pain as I was lifted off the floor, my windpipe being crushed. Still, I dared not open my eyes. Rhys hadn’t even offered me a reassurance. He’d simply asked me a question. It was up to me to decide whether he deserved my trust.
A blade sliced against my cheek. Blood trickled down toward my neck. And then it sliced again, this time deeper, cutting right through my lower lip.
I gripped the coarse hands around my neck, trying to loosen them to let me gasp for air.
My back was slammed against a cold wall. My head bashed against it, adding to my dizziness. Still, I kept my eyes shut.
They talked amongst themselves but I was in too much pain to make sense of their words.
“Open your eyes,” one of them shouted.
I kept them shut. If I opened them I would lose myself to fear completely.
Cold fingers forced my eyes open. I found myself face to face with an ogre quite different from the guard who’d met me by the gate. Her features were sharper and more regal, her body more shapely. I recognized her as the queen of this place.
“Now, hold her eyes in place,” she said, looking up at one of the ogre guards towering over me.
He held my eyelids open. I watched in horror as she reached for her belt and withdrew a long knife.
“You know what this is, girl?” She glared at me. “A carving knife. Watch as I prepare you for my meal tonight.”
Another ogre held me down as I began to struggle. The queen reached for my hand and stretched out my arm. As she grazed the knife over my skin, a grin split her face.
“Mmm. I’m going to enjoy this.” She looked up at a tall, slim ogre I recognized as her king. “Make sure you watch every second of this, darling.”
Rhys, where are you?
Any sliver of faith I might have had in him was evaporating by the second.
Why would he leave it this late if he still intended to rescue me?
She ran her hands along my right arm until she reached my middle finger. I let out a scream as she broke it with one sharp motion.
Maybe Rhys wanted to get rid of me after all. Maybe he found out about Kiev and this is his revenge.
I thought again of Tiarni, and how I’d been forced to watch as he’d pried away her fingernails one by one.
He is sick enough to do this to me.
My thoughts were ludicrous. There was no way Rhys could have found out. But all ability to think was slipp
ing away from me.
The queen moved onto my index finger. Another crack filled the dark hall as she snapped that one too. Darkness clouded my vision. I was close to passing out. The guard behind me slapped my face.
“No drifting off to sleep.” The queen glared up at me. “We’ve only just begun. If you stay awake long enough, and if I sever you in just the right places, you might even last until the frying.”
Grinning, she moved on to my third finger.
Then she shrieked and scrambled back away from me, dropping her knife on the floor as though she’d been burnt. The ogres holding me in place let go at the same time. My eyes rolled as I tried to make sense of what was happening.
There came a sudden gush of wind, and then I was lying in sand. I blinked and sat up. I was back on the beach outside the gates, with Rhys staring down at me.
I swore beneath my breath, cradling my broken hand against my chest. Tears of pain streamed down my face.
“How did it feel when you thought that I might not come for me?”
How do you think it felt, you bastard? I wanted to yell at him, but I felt barely strong enough to whisper. I closed my eyes and winced, biting my lip against the pain.
“It was crushing, wasn’t it?”
“What was the point of all that?” I gasped. “Why didn’t you come for me before the bitch broke my fingers?” I groaned.
“Now, you won’t forget how doubting me is associated with pain. It’s not a nice feeling. And you won’t want to feel it again.”
This man is insane.
“I don’t understand.” A fresh bout of pain shot through my arm, lighting my nerves on fire.
He bent down and unclasped my injured hand from my chest. He cupped my hand between his. A few seconds later, the pain was gone. I flexed my fingers. They moved as if nothing had happened. Then Rhys ran a finger along my cheek and lower lip. The wounds stung as he touched them, and my skin became smooth. He held out his hand and pulled me to my feet, gripping me by the waist to steady me.
“Physical pain comes and goes,” he said. “It’s inconsequential. A means to an end. But the mental pain you experienced will remain with you forever. I don’t think you’ll ever forget what just went on in there.”
You don’t say.
He began guiding me toward the edge of the ocean.
“Where are you taking me now?” I asked irritably.
“Now, I want you to feel what it’s like to not doubt me.”
Chapter 13: Mona
We reappeared in a pitch-black forest. The sound of rain on the canopy of leaves above was deafening, although the broad-leaved trees offered some shelter.
“Where are—”
I caught sight of Rhys slipping behind the trunk of a tree.
“Rhys?” I motioned to follow him.
“No, stay where you are,” he whispered back. “I’ll be right here.”
A howl pierced the night air. There was a rustling about ten feet away from me in the bushes, and the sound of sniffing. A few moments later, a massive black wolf bounded into the clearing. Its orange eyes glared at me as it bared its fangs.
“Over here,” the wolf growled.
A werewolf. But this beast was larger and more fierce than any werewolf I’d ever seen before.
There was more rustling in the bushes and half a dozen more wolves entered the clearing—all just as huge.
“What is it?”
One of the wolves began to approach closer, sniffing the air to catch my scent.
“A witch.” A deep voice spoke from behind me.
I turned around to see Rhys walking out from one of the trees.
“You,” the wolf hissed, glaring at Rhys.
“He’s the one I saw by the mountain,” a second wolf growled. “He took Isiah and her pack.”
We’re kidnapping werewolves now? When will it end?
“Yes, that’s me,” Rhys said calmly.
“I’d suggest you leave now,” the wolf snarled. “Unless you enjoy the feeling of the flesh being sucked from your bones.”
“Your witch, on the other hand,” another wolf said, “can stay as long as she likes.” Its mouth salivated as it looked at me.
The werewolves began to close in around us. Rhys gripped my shoulder.
“Stay back,” he muttered.
He pushed me to the ground behind him just as the leader of the pack leapt toward us, its weight causing the ground to shake. As soon as I touched the leaves, a forcefield shot up around me.
My breathing quickened as two werewolves leapt toward me, only to be propelled back by Rhys’ barrier.
I didn’t know why Rhys didn’t just use one of his powerful curses to finish the lot in one swoop. Instead he withdrew a long silver dagger from his belt.
Maybe he wants to put on a show for me.
As the leader hurtled toward him, he dodged the creature’s jaws and swung himself up onto its back.
With one sharp motion, he stabbed the werewolf in the neck. The werewolf collapsed and Rhys jumped off.
“Who’s next?” Rhys’ growl sounded just as fierce as the werewolves’.
Another wolf leapt at him. Rhys dodged again and, spinning round, sliced through the animal’s back leg. The wolf howled in agony and collapsed, writhing on the floor as blood soaked the ground.
The other wolves now looked more hesitant to approach.
“What’s wrong? You can’t handle fighting me man to man? I’m not even using magic on you.”
His words incensed the werewolves who remained standing enough that three of them leapt forward at once. I gasped as one of them pinned Rhys to the ground, knocking his dagger out of his hand. Lowering its head to Rhys’ face, the beast stretched out its jaws. Rhys lifted his leg and kicked the wolf hard in its underbelly, hard enough to make the giant animal groan and loosen its grip for a second. That was all the opportunity Rhys needed to stab the wolf in the eye with his finger.
The wolf howled. It lowered its head to bite him again. Rhys caught its jaws just before they closed down on him and, though its sharp teeth must have been cutting through Rhys’ fingers, he pushed upward, jerking the wolf’s head back, and managed to reach for its second eye.
The wolf rolled off of him onto its back and thrashed about on the ground. Rhys got to his feet and glared around at the remaining wolves. They stared back at him, then backed away. Although they were clearly loath to, they didn’t see it as worth losing their lives or their limbs over Rhys.
Or perhaps they were just planning to return with reinforcements.
Once they’d all disappeared, Rhys finally used his magic again. He manifested a rope and tied the three werewolves lying on the floor together by their front legs. Then he grabbed the other end of it and approached me, dragging their tremendous weight along with him. His chest was heaving as he wiped his forehead with his sleeve and brushed away the black curls that framed his face.
He touched the protective boundary surrounding me and it disappeared just as suddenly as it had formed.
He held out his hand and I gripped it. He pulled me to my feet. I couldn’t stop staring at him. I’d known how powerful he was with magic. And I’d known that he was physically strong without it. But I’d had no idea that he was strong enough to tackle werewolves with his bare hands and barely break a sweat. This is vampire-level strength. I’d never seen any witch display such prowess without the use of magic.
Rhys walked over to his dagger and, wiping the blood off it with the hem of his cloak, slid it back into its sheath in his belt.
Still holding the end of the rope attached to the suffering wolves, he walked back over to me and held my hand.
He looked down at me through his thick dark lashes, still breathing deeply from the fight.
And then, before I could stop him, he reached for the back of my neck and pulled me against him, hungrily claiming my lips. He kissed me with a passion that I’d rarely experienced in him. His right hand hiked up my dress and rested on my
inner thigh, the black rose etched in my skin prickling beneath his touch.
I was speechless as our lips parted. Raindrops dripped from his dark hair onto my cheeks as he stared down at me, his eyes burning with need.
“I love you, Mona.”
This man is going to be the ruin of me.
Chapter 14: Mona
Rhys transported us back not back to The Shade, but to our own island. As we appeared outside the main door of the castle, I almost screamed in fright as I laid eyes on the beasts he’d brought along with us.
Rhys took the werewolves down to one of the dungeons. I made my way up to our chambers at the top of the castle. He reappeared a few minutes later carrying a tray containing a jug of dark red blood and two wine glasses. I stared at the tray in disgust, daring to believe that this was werewolf blood.
He placed the tray down in the living room. We both changed into dry clothes and then sat by the fire.
I hadn’t said anything to him since he’d kissed me. I wasn’t sure what to say any more.
I understood that he was trying to train me to channel the power of our Ancients. My mind couldn’t be resistant to him. But I didn’t understand how loving me was mixed in with all of this. Rhys never was one to mix in his personal feelings with tasks in service of our ancestors. But now I found myself doubting his true motivation.
Is he just trying to train me, or is he also trying to win my heart?
Rhys sat back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the crackling fire.
I cleared my throat.
“So, what’s next?”
Rhys continued to stare at the fireplace, his irises glimmering in the flickering light.
He replied only after several minutes. “I want you to be safe for what is to come,” he said, his voice deep. “Most witches lose their minds before they even come close to succeeding.”
Although I’d heard about how difficult it was to become a Channeler, I’d never understood what was involved. Rhys, Julisse, Arielle and Isolde were the only Channelers among us.
Rhys glanced at me briefly before returning his gaze to the fire. “It helps,” he continued, “to have something to cling to. Someone to cling to. To place your faith in. Without that, you feel like you’re lost in oblivion. Holding onto sanity is like trying to grasp hold of sand even as it slips between your fingers… I remember what it was like.”
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