Dark Pact: A Reverse Harem Fantasy Romance (Her Dark Guardians Book 1)

by Alana Serra

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, trying not to become caught in everything she saw within his eyes.

  Especially when he didn’t immediately break away, nor did he avert his gaze. Desmond might have done so. He had his shy moments, or times when he was too self-conscious to be the center of her attention. But Karak just looked back at her as though she were an oasis in the desert and he a parched traveler.

  Had he leaned closer? She swore he was closer than he’d been before. Her heart hammered wildly as she tried to decide—very quickly—whether or not she would push him away if he leaned in to kiss her. It was foolish to think he would, but the way he was looking at her…

  “I apologize,” he said, clearing his throat and looking away.

  The spell was broken, and Rhia slowly drew back her hand, feeling as though she were in a daze. She’d been head over heels in love with Desmond. Why was she responding so strongly to these men? Lust from afar was one thing, but she was positive she would have let Karak kiss her. And she would have kissed him back. Eagerly.

  What was wrong with her?

  “My people are staying at the edge of the forest just beyond Ebonhold’s reach,” he said, his voice strained. “I’d like for you to meet them personally, just so you can see the people who will gladly give their lives for you.”

  “I don’t want anyone to give their life for me,” Rhia said quickly.

  “If it comes to that, Lady, I’m afraid you won’t have a choice.”

  He stood, the spell completely broken as the weight of his words settled on her. Rhia followed suit, smoothing down her skirt and trying to regain her composure. “Lead the way, then.”

  It was a short walk to reach the forest. She’d made the journey before to help gather firewood and get an idea of what might be edible and in easy reach should they run out of food. Much like the majority of the flora in this region, the things she thought might be edible—mushrooms, berries, nuts—were also foreign to her and hard to guess at, so she’d tasked Wesley with gathering a few different species and testing them to see if they were fit for consumption or not.

  She wasn’t surprised, then, to find him also on the edge of the forest, his imps holding little linen sacks as he deposited berries into them.

  “Karak, one of your clan was looking for you. Dwela, I think she said her name was? I ran into her gathering herbs.”

  He nodded. “The Lady and I are on our way to visit with them now.”

  She saw the flicker of interest in Wesley’s eyes before he voiced it openly. “Would you mind if I tag along? I have some questions she might be able to answer.”

  “That’s fine with me. Rhia?”

  “I don’t have a problem with it if you think your people will be okay with two humans in their midst,” she said.

  “There are some superstitions about Wesley’s… brand of magic, but he is one of the guardians. They will accept him.”

  Wesley’s expression—inquisitive and open—changed at those words. It became darker somehow, like what she’d seen in the library. That glimpse of desperate intensity had frightened her as much as it called to her, and she felt a tingle race up her spine to see it again, even as she noted how much of a change it was.

  It was almost as if there were two versions of Wesley. One who was just interested in knowledge and exploring the world’s many curiosities… and the one Aeredus had likely exploited for his dark purposes. Once again, she felt a striking amount of empathy with the man.

  “The villagers burned the orcs’ camp,” Rhia explained, pressing onward with Karak’s guidance. “Their homes, supplies, everything. We’re giving them space in the barracks until we can figure out something a bit more suitable.”

  “A sound decision, though more generous than most Dark Ladies,” Wesley said, beckoning the imps to follow.

  “What do you mean?”

  Karak took point in answering. “Traditionally, we have lived outside the bounds of the Lady’s territory. None of my clan have ever set foot in Ebonhold until now, and most others share the same fate. With the exception of orcish guardians, we tend to be relegated to the outskirts. The first line of defense.”

  Cannon fodder, then. Rhia’s stomach twisted just to think of it. But then… hadn’t the guild always made it clear they were “lesser” enemies? When they boasted of their accomplishments, the large number of orcs and goblins they killed barely registered. They were just nagging forces to cut down en route to the real adversary, like someone swatting at a persistent fly.

  “Good thing I don’t intend to be like most Dark Ladies,” Rhia said, and thankfully Karak and Wesley both left it at that.

  It didn’t take long to find the small camp the orcs had set up. They were settled in a clearing with a few stretched canvas and hide tents and a handful of bedrolls to mark the space. One cart and a couple of horses seemed to be their only means of transportation beyond walking, though with the small number of orcs present, it made sense.

  “Dwela,” Karak called out to one of them, separating from her.

  The woman named Dwela was smaller than Karak, despite seeming to be a full-blooded orc. Her tusks protruded from her bottom lip, her skin was a darker green, and her ears were more elongated than his. The ridge of her brow was also more pronounced, and the overall shape of her body was one of bulk. But she seemed to be an older woman, her hair graying just as a human’s would, streaks of it threading through thinning black strands. She was hunched slightly, and she hobbled a bit as she walked toward him.

  “You were able to speak to the Dark Lady, then.” She looked past Karak, giving Rhia a smile.

  “I was. She’s agreed to help us; give us a place to stay so we can get back on our feet.”

  “Not a moment too soon,” Dwela said. “Razza’s illness has taken a turn for the worst.”

  She saw Karak pale at that, his eyes widening as he looked toward one of the few tents. “Is he resting?”

  “Fitfully, but yes. I was able to find some herbs to help,” she said, nodding toward Wesley. “I see you met up with your fellow guardian.”

  “Good to see you again,” Wesley said. “I know you were in a hurry earlier. I was just hoping I could watch you work, learn how you’re using those herbs. I’m… assuming you’re a healer?”

  “Just because I was gathering herbs, you assume I’m a healer?” she scoffed. “You humans have these notions in your head, so eager to believe we’re all so primitive.”

  “I’m sure he doesn’t mean—” Rhia tried to interject, unsure why she was defending Wesley but for her own assumptions being the same.

  “Don’t mind her,” Karak said before she could finish. “She’s having a bit of fun at his expense.”

  The old woman grinned, displaying two rows of teeth that were in surprisingly good condition for her age, including the pristine tusks. “At my age, I think I’ve earned it. Come on, then. Though Your Ladyship, if you have a weak stomach, you may not want to watch this.”

  “I was learning to use my magic for healing before…” she hesitated, unsure what she should even say about her old life, if anything. “Before. I’ve seen my fair share of illness and injury.”

  “Suit yourself,” Dwela said with a shrug, pinning open the tent flap.

  It wasn’t large enough for the four of them to go inside—not by any stretch. So she stayed back with Karak while Wesley moved in to observe and assist. With how crowded it was, she barely glimpsed the young man, but she could tell he was deathly ill. His skin was pale and slick with sweat, he moaned in obvious pain even when he wasn’t being touched, and the entire tent reeked of death.

  “Hold him down,” she instructed Wesley, who did so after some hesitation.

  It was only then that Rhia caught sight of the raised, angry red flesh on his arms that had a brighter sheen to it than his normal skin. She drew in a breath, unable to find the words at first to ask the obvious question. “Was he…?”

  “In one of the tents when the humans set the
m on fire, yes,” Karak answered solemnly.

  Bile rose in her throat. They’d practically burned a child to death. And she’d been inclined to side with them, just because their opponents were orcs.

  Not even a full week ago, she wouldn’t have imagined being in the middle of an orc camp—even a small one such as this. It would have terrified her at best and emboldened her to “defend” herself at worst. Most likely, she never would have ended up in the middle of the camp in the first place. She would have used her magic from afar. Were she with the guild, she would have helped support the fighters as they slaughtered every orc in sight.

  It was a chilling thought, and one Rhia had to banish from her mind by force.

  “I might be able to make him more comfortable,” she said, ducking into the tent despite the cramped space. “Though the last time I used my magic to heal there were… side effects I didn’t intend.”

  Her stomach churned as she remembered the empty husks of guards scattered around her when she’d healed Desmond.

  “Life-drain,” Wesley murmured. “Some of my magic works the same. If you can find plants or animals, you can channel it that way. It’s not ideal, but it works.”

  Her brow furrowed. She didn’t like the idea of sucking life from… anything, really. While she felt more at ease doing it to plants, they needed those to survive. This very clan would need them in the coming weeks, since Rhia didn’t have anything substantial to feed them.

  “Isn’t there any other way?” she asked, watching as Dwela smoothed a poultice onto the squirming boy, his howls of agony piercing her soul.

  “You could take it from yourself, but—”

  Before Wesley even finished the sentence, Rhia was determined to try. She knelt beside the boy, looking to Dwela for permission first. When the old woman stepped back, she held her hand just above Razza’s body.

  “This might hurt,” she told him softly. “I’m sorry if it does.”

  “Rhia, what are you—”

  She ignored him and concentrated on healing the boy. Soothing the burned flesh, replacing it with healthy skin instead. Taking away his pain, taking it upon herself if she must.

  Rhia focused all of it inward, drawing from herself as though drawing water from a well. Instantly she felt a building pressure at her consciousness, something that grew and grew in intensity until it became pain, slicing through her, sudden and deep.

  She kept going, though, drawing deeper and deeper until she felt there was nothing left to give. Until every part of her was exhausted, her organs, her muscles, her very skin screaming in protest.

  Looking down, she saw Razza had stilled, his breathing soft and rhythmic. She scanned his body, searching for burned flesh, but there was none. Everything looked clean, undamaged, and whole.

  Rhia tried to stand, but a wave of dizziness slammed into her, and darkness swiftly followed. The last thing she experienced was the sensation of falling, and someone catching her.

  Chapter 13

  Finding a reputable merchant in these parts was proving more difficult than Liam ever imagined.

  He’d known the prices would be ridiculous. This far from any of the major cities, merchants had no competition. They could charge whatever they wished. But he’d hoped one or two of them might be reasonable. Apparently there was still a bit of naivete in his heart that he hadn’t quashed, and this time it led him to resort to intimidation to get his way.

  Most of the merchants this far south weren’t human, which meant they almost certainly knew of the Dark Lady’s importance and either feared or revered her—usually both. He leaned into that with a shifty gnoll merchant in particular and it had gotten him enough food to last through the week. Nothing of quality, mind. Stale bread. Hard cheese. Rations that looked as though they’d been scavenged off of an army that had fallen. But the small quantity of fresh fruits and vegetables was better than what they’d been eating, and Liam considered it a success as he brought his haul back to Ebonhold.

  He was even in a decent mood… before he caught sight of Wesley and Karak hurrying toward the keep, with Rhia unconscious in Wesley’s arms.

  Liam abandoned his horse and cart immediately, dismounting in one swift move as he rushed to reach them before they made it into the outer bailey. “What happened?” he growled, his agitation raised to a level that didn’t sit right with him.

  But why shouldn’t he be agitated? He’d been gone half a day, and his fellow guardians had already managed to fail so completely at their jobs. Rhia was pale, a thin sheen of sweat over her skin, her breathing ragged. She looked as if she’d decided to confront Death himself and had very nearly lost.

  “She overexerted herself. Drew from her own self to fuel her magic,” Wesley explained.

  Liam’s jaw clenched as he looked down at the woman. As much as he felt an unshakable urge to protect her and to be at her side no matter what, something within him thrashed in open rebellion at that. She’d exhausted herself reaching for too much power. Of course she had. Someone with access to dark magic couldn’t help but do so. He expected it from Wesley, and he supposed he expected it from Rhia, too.

  It was just deeply… unsettling to actually witness it. Some small part of him had hoped she meant what she said—that she was perhaps beyond corruption. But he was wrong. She craved power, just like all the others.

  “Bring her inside,” he said, his voice strained as he tried to get ahold of his emotion.

  “What do you think we were doing?” Wesley snapped.

  “She will be all right,” Karak said, his voice far calmer. “She needs rest. Dwela will be here soon. She can make something to help her recover.”

  “Dwela?” Liam asked, following close as Wesley took Rhia inside.

  He hated feeling useless, but there was little he could do here aside from bark out orders. And as Wesley said, they already knew what they needed to do. They’d just neglected their primary duty as guardians, something he would be sure to point out as soon as Rhia was recovering.

  “A healer from my clan.”

  The explanation was a hasty one, the half-orc’s attention obviously on Rhia, not him. As they made their way through the sprawling corridors, Liam wondered what she was doing with Karak’s clan. She’d been quick to cast the orcs as the villains in her little narrative of what happened with the village. Had she changed her mind so soon?

  That seemed unlikely. Far more likely was the idea that she was just accepting her role as Dark Lady, and part of that meant building up her armies with whoever wished to serve. She probably wouldn’t mind orcs dying on her behalf, so of course she’d meet with Karak’s people.

  As they made it into Rhia’s chambers, though, Karak was more forthcoming with information. “She was there at my request. She agreed to house my people, but I wanted her to meet them. She was trying to heal a young boy who was badly burned in a counterattack the humans made.”

  “And decided to take the life force she needed from herself despite never trying it before,” Wesley grated out, gently laying her down in bed.

  Liam stood in the doorway, too stunned to even enter completely. She’d healed an orc boy, seemingly without being prompted to do so. And not only that, but she’d put herself in harm’s way to do it? It was foolish. Reckless. Naive. So many things Liam could and likely would criticize. But it was also… unexpected. Not at all the power-hungry behavior he’d imagined; the behavior he’d wondered how he was going to justify serving, when everything he’d done up to this point was to fight against it.

  She claimed she wanted to help people, and perhaps she actually did. Perhaps she wouldn’t be drawn in by the lure of power or the appreciation of adoring subjects she could bend to her will. Perhaps she was better than that. A flawed person, but a good one trying to do what she believed was right. Some part of Liam—the heart he’d ignored for so long now, most likely—desperately wanted it to be true.

  But was he just seeing what he wanted to see? If he fell into the same trap as last ti
me, gave his devotion fully to someone who was going to abuse it in the end…

  “Why don’t you make yourself useful and fetch some water?” Wesley said, his tone only matching the one Liam had used earlier. “She’s running a fever.”

  For once, there was no quip, no immediate argument. Liam needed the space to process, and so he made his way to the well at the center of the courtyard and pumped out enough water, turning Karak’s words over in his mind. There was no chance the half-orc was lying—he wasn’t the deceptive kind, for better or worse. But he could have possibly misread Rhia’s intent. There was probably some ulterior motive. Maybe she just wanted to use her power without paying the typical cost. Maybe—

  Maybe she’s just not like Telaniel at all.

  The thought sobered Liam, and he brought the water in silence. He wasn’t so tamed that he didn’t fight Wesley on using it, though. He refused to just stand around and watch, and instead held his hand out for the cloth Wesley brandished and dunked it into the water himself, wringing it out before he used it to gently wipe the sweat from Rhia’s flushed face.

  With both Wesley and Karak also at her bedside, it was a tight fit, but one he supposed would only continue as one of three guardians. That didn’t mean he had to be happy about it, though.

  “What were you thinking, letting her do this to herself?” he asked Wesley, a growl in his voice that sounded more animal than human. “It’s your job to protect her. Both of you.”

  “I didn’t let her do anything,” Wesley said through gritted teeth. “She wanted to heal that boy without killing anything else in the process. I… probably shouldn’t have told her how to do it, but—”

  “No, you shouldn’t have.”

  “—she would have figured it out on her own, regardless. And I tried to stop her!”