The Darkest Night

by Emma V. Leech

  “Ah,” Claudette said, raising her eyebrows at him as she realised the kind of story this was.

  “Still want to hear it?” he demanded, rather hoping she’d change her mind.

  “Of course.”

  Corin tutted and carried on. “I think perhaps we were fifteen, sixteen at most, and I had already gained a … formidable reputation with the girls.” He smirked at her, wondering if she still wanted to hear it after all, but she just waved her hand at him, gesturing for him to carry on. “Laen was jealous, to put it mildly, and it began to come between us. So I did my best to help him. I set him up with girls who …” He gave Claudette an uncertain look and cleared his throat. “Who …”

  “Sure things, huh?” she said, one eyebrow quirked.

  He snorted and gave a nod. “Death and taxes were less certain that these young ladies. He only had to smile at them and they’d have dropped their knickers for him with the greatest of pleasure.” Claudette tutted at him and he laughed. “You said you wanted to hear this. Anyway, somehow or other, he messed it up every time. He was just too shy, too unsure of himself, and the more he failed, the worse it got. He was even talking about joining the warrior monks, for the love of the gods!” Corin exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief. “I knew he meant it, and I knew things couldn’t carry on like that. He was staying away from me more and more, and when he did come, we did nothing but fight. I had to do something.”

  “So?” Claudette asked, and he looked down at her, seeing curiosity in her eyes.

  “So …” he began, taking a breath. “Well, I thought perhaps if he could grasp the basics, practise, if you like, then … then maybe he’d be more confident.”

  He watched as her eyebrows raised, and he rubbed one hand over his face, feeling extremely foolish. “I was very drunk,” he said, wondering why he sounded so defiant. They’d been boys, for heaven’s sake. “We were both very drunk,” he added, wanting it to be clear. “So … I offered to teach him.”

  Corin saw the moment that she understood what he meant, and was surprised to discover that she didn’t laugh. In fact, she looked … intrigued.

  “Ma belle?”

  She blushed and cleared her throat. “You kissed him?”

  Corin nodded, rubbing the back of his neck and frowning. “With hindsight, it was a foolish thing to do … with Laen, of all people! But I was at my wit’s end and I didn’t know what else to do. At the time, it seemed an obvious solution, only …”

  He paused until she put her hand to his cheek, turning his face back to her.

  “Well,” he continued, remembering the scene only too well and with mixed emotions. “You know, I imagine, what human boys are like at that age, with their hormones raging out of control?”

  Claudette snorted. “I have a vague recollection,” she murmured, her tone dry, and Corin remembered that she was only nineteen herself.

  He stifled an unreasonable surge of jealousy and told himself he didn’t want to know before he carried on. “Well, you remember what my mother told you about magic and sex, how one feeds the other, and that sex is a release? Well, as young men, we were forbidden to use much magic at all; as you can imagine, it can cause all sorts of problems to those who are powerful.” He shook his head, remembering the frenzied feeling that used to burn beneath his skin. “I can only tell you that what you would call the teenage years for the male of our species, especially those who carry an excess of magic … well, it’s a complicated time, put it that way,” he said with a snort.

  “So what happened?” she demanded, and he felt a flicker of amusement at the eagerness in her voice.

  “What happened was a combination of too much drink, too many hormones, an excess of magic, and the very obvious fact that Laen had never been touched in his life before … and then my mother walked in on us.”

  “Oh my God,” she exclaimed, eyes wide.

  Corin nodded, remembering the fearful scene only too well. “I can remember the surprise in her eyes to this day,” he added with a snort. “I have to give the woman credit,” he said, smiling. “She was wonderful. Utterly calm. Didn’t bat an eyelid after her initial shock. But she suggested I come and talk to her alone, and the moment she closed the door, well, I believe you would say that Laen freaked out.” Any humour he might have felt in retelling the ridiculous scene fell away with speed as he remembered. “He thought it would get back to his father, I suppose, and it was all my fault, of course,” he said, the words bitter. “I was everything his father had warned him I was. I was trying to corrupt him, seduce him …” He waved his hand to illustrate that the accusations had been many and comprehensive, not wanting to spell them all out. “I didn’t see him again for six months.”

  “Oh, Corin,” she said, winding her arms around his neck. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It didn’t end there,” he said, the worst of it yet to come. “It was the most miserable time of my life. I was lonely and … well, I felt I had something to prove, I suppose, after everything he’d said. My behaviour was out of control; that was when I began drinking in earnest. I was barely sober, seducing anything in a skirt …” He shook his head. “My father was furious with me, ashamed of me,” he added, remembering the disappointment in his father’s eyes with a pang of remorse. “And in the end, I could bare it no longer, so I left Alfheim and went to Mechstrana to confront him.”

  He hauled in a breath, the enormity of that decision when he’d been so young still capable of making his skin prickle with anxiety. “You have to understand that the Dark Fae hate our kind. They’ll trade with us, but they do not welcome us or the Light Fae in their lands, and I am really rather hard to miss,” he added, gesturing to his eyes. “I knew the likelihood was that I’d end up getting my head kicked in at best, but nonetheless. When I got there he wouldn’t see me, though. I knew he was there, but he sent someone out to tell me he wasn’t. They were all laughing at me. So I left.” He smiled as Claudette moved closer to him, kissing his cheek. He turned his head, finding comfort in her lips as he kissed her properly. Pulling back, he leaned his head against her forehead. “Some of the men followed me,” he said, his voice low. “I really thought I was going to have to fight for my life, but then Laen appeared. He stood up to them and told them to go and they did, in the end, but I was never more shocked by the things they said to him, the way they treated him, their prince, and they spoke to him like he was beneath contempt. I’d never realised what he’d had to endure. I begged him to come back with me. I told him that he didn’t need to live like this. There was a home waiting for him, one where he didn’t have to listen to such hatred.”

  He paused, seeing a look in Claudette’s eyes that showed she understood it had not happened like that.

  “He turned on me. It was him that beat me, ma belle, and very badly. We had fought before, of course, many times, but never like that. He wanted to kill me, but in truth, that hurt a lot less than the things he said.”

  He got to his feet, carrying Claudette with him and taking her back to the bed.

  “So he gave you his sword to make up for it?” she queried, sounding furious that this was all he’d had to make up for such behaviour. Corin placed her on the bed and shrugged, pulling back the covers.

  “Not then. It was months later, after …” Devil Ravendell’s silver eyes drifted into his mind and he shuddered. Forcing the image away, he got into bed beside her, he couldn’t tell her the rest. “Yes. He gave me the sword.”

  He lay down beside her, the memories suddenly too fresh in his mind. He wouldn’t think of it. He had worse things to worry about than some ancient teenage spat. It was ridiculous to still feel so raw about it.

  “After what?” Claudette pressed, snuggling into his arms. He buried his face in her hair, breathing in the familiar scent of her and closing his eyes.

  “No more, ma belle. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Go to sleep.”

  She sighed and he knew she would not let it rest, but for now she fell quiet, and
he listened as her breathing changed, deepening as she drifted into sleep. The wind howled outside the castle walls and he pitied the soldiers who were camping out in it. He wondered how they were fairing in Alfheim and if the snow was still falling. From the chill in his bones and his heart, he suspected it was. Turning his head a little, he could see the wolves asleep in the firelight with Cerberus at the centre of the pack. Claudette’s breath was warm and soft against his skin, and he tried to hold on to these details. Claudette stirred in her sleep, moving closer to him, and he tried to block out the memories, the screaming, the fears for what was still to come, and focus only on the feeling of her warm skin against his, but the cries were growing ever louder. He could no longer shut them out, and as the night progressed, his mind began to spin as he lost his grip on those all-important little details.

  It was like listening to someone you love in agony and being unable to help, except this was the cries of thousands, millions, and it was all his fault.

  He should have come sooner.

  He tried to reason with himself. He hadn’t known Auberren had treated his land, his people, so cruelly, and he hadn’t wanted to start a war for no good reason. In truth, he hadn’t known that he could really achieve it. His powers had increased dramatically over the past years, but only after he had set foot in Solastire, after he had touched the earth beneath his feet, and then rebuilt the village, healing its people, had he known that he could bring down the wall.

  The night sky glowered at him through the opening in the curtains as guilt swallowed him down into its icy depths, a swirling sea of darkness and pain where the voices simply would not let him be.

  He shivered, drowning alone in the dark, where no one could save him.

  Chapter 25

  Bram handed Océane down from the carriage and squeezed her hand as she took in the devastation around them. Carla clung to her arm as they looked at the ruins of a once-great city, and a landscape that appeared to have been turned on its head.

  "What on earth happened here?" she whispered, her eyes taking in the wreckage with disbelief.

  "A war," Bram replied, his voice quiet. He said nothing more. but in truth, he was shocked to his bones. The stories of the battle, and of exactly what Corin had done, had been filtering through to them as they met people along the road, but seeing it in the flesh was another matter.

  Many were leaving the city to stay with friends or family in the country until things were more settled. The Dark Fae were an ominous presence outside what remained of the city walls, and the atmosphere was tense, to say the least, charged with distrust and animosity on all sides.

  They stood at the edge of the Dark Fae encampment, and Bram turned to the two women, gesturing at the gathered army with a grimace.

  "The Dark Fae encampment is not somewhere I would willingly escort you, ladies. So if you will wait here with your guards, I will go and find Laen for you."

  Océane shook her head. "No,” she said, her tone brooking no argument. “I'm not waiting around now we are so close, I have to see him now."

  Bram shook his head, resolute. Truth be told, he didn’t much want to enter the camp himself, but he was damned if he’d take a pregnant woman in there. "Océane, I apologise, but I must insist ..."

  "Océane?"

  They all spun around at the sound of a familiar voice, and Océane shrieked with joy, throwing herself into her husband’s arms. "Laen! Oh, Laen, thank God.” She clung to him, covering his face with kisses as Laen stood clutching at her and looking utterly dazed.

  Bram watched as anxiety entered the big man’s eyes. "What’s wrong, why are you here? Are you well?” he demanded. “The baby?" he said, his voice hoarse with terror as he stared into his wife’s eyes.

  Océane smiled at him, reaching her hand up to cup his face. "Quite safe and perfectly well, though the little devil is training to be a kick-boxer."

  Laen pulled her tight again, closing his eyes as relief made his shoulders sag. Bram smiled, and began to turn away as Laen tipped her head and leaned down, giving her a fierce kiss. Before he could leave, however, Laen let his wife go and turned furious black eyes on Bram.

  "What, in the name of the gods, do you think you are about?" he demanded, stalking up to Bram and looming over him in the way only a man of his size could do.

  Bram swallowed and took a breath, Laen in a temper was really no joking matter. "Laen, I didn’t actually ..."

  "You bring my wife here,” he growled, shoving Bram with one hand so that he stumbled backwards. “To the middle of a damned battlefield?" he said, the rage in his eyes growing by the second.

  "Well, no, not exact ..." Bram tried again, beginning to feel a little anxious as he noticed Laen's hand was gripping the hilt of his sword so hard the knuckles had turned white.

  "She's with child, you damned fool!" he roared, grabbing Bram’s shirt in one massive hand and shaking him. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't take your bloody head ..."

  "Laen Braed!" Océane’s furious voice cut through the air, and Laen stopped in his tracks to look down at his wife's glittering expression; she looked like she was about to implode, in Bram’s opinion, and he didn’t blame the man for shutting up. "If you have quite finished behaving like a complete arse, you might like to give the man a chance to speak."

  Laen opened and closed his mouth and then frowned at her, clearly not ready to concede defeat. "Océane, love, I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you, but he had no right to .."

  "He didn't bring us, you moron!" she yelled, folding her arms over the top of her stomach and giving her husband a look which suggested he’d better shut up and listen. Now.

  Laen frowned and glanced at Bram, who grinned at him, relieved to discover his imminent death had been averted. Laen let go of him and turned back to Océane.

  "He didn't?" he asked, the words still rather gruff as he frowned at her.

  Océane rolled her eyes at him and huffed. "We were already halfway here when Bram arrived at Alfheim. He rode through the night and the most appalling weather because he was afraid for us. He wanted to be sure we got to you safely." She raised her eyebrows at him. "So, what was it you were saying?"

  Laen cleared his throat and turned back to Bram, looking awkward and frowning harder than ever.

  Bram held up his hands, shaking his head in horror as he realised what was coming. "Oh no," he said, backing off. "Please, I beg you, don't make him try to apologise."

  Carla, who had been watching all of this and keeping a safe distance, moved closer and frowned at him. "Why ever not?" she asked.

  Océane sighed and looked at the towering figure of her husband with rueful affection. "Because he's terrible at it,” she explained as Laen glowered harder. "But he has been practising, haven't you, Laen?" she added, a fierce tone to her voice.

  Laen looked like he’d decided to kill Bram, after all, as he sent him an unloving look and cleared his throat. "Hmph."

  Bram chuckled and shook his head. "I'll take it! Apology accepted." He held out his hand to Laen, who clasped it after a moment’s hesitation.

  "I can't thank you enough for … for bringing her to me safely,” he said, his tone still deeply unhappy, but at least less murderous now. “I owe you a debt, Tully," he added, sounding appalled by the prospect.

  Bram shook his head and snorted. "Don't be a fool. Couldn't resist playing the hero, could I? Oh, but would you please remember; the name is Bram, if you don't mind." He executed a theatrical bow, which made Carla and Océane laugh, just as he intended. Laen snorted and shook his head. "Idiot," he said, though there was no heat behind the word.

  Bram grinned, well-used to Laen's insults, which he knew meant nothing. "Well, ladies, I will leave you in safe hands."

  "You're going to the castle?" Laen asked, a diffident look in his eyes that made Bram hesitate a moment.

  "Yes,” he replied, watching Laen’s reactions and wondering how he could help mend things between him and Corin. “I need to tell Claudette
her brother is safe."

  Laen nodded and cleared his throat again, staring at the ground as he spoke. "You … you've not seen him yet, then?"

  "No. Not yet."

  Laen said nothing, but reached for Océane's hand, taking it in his. "You've heard what happened?" he asked her, his tone cautious.

  Océane looked up at him and Bram could see the worry in her eyes. "We've heard various things,” she admitted. “But I need to hear it from you."

  His face grew serious and he nodded. "That, you shall," he said, holding her gaze.

  Bram made his goodbyes, unwilling to intrude any further on their reunion and knowing they would have much to discuss. He hoped to the gods that Océane could do something with Laen, and then set off to see what could be salvaged at the castle.

  ***

  Once they had waved Bram off, Laen escorted Océane to his tent and made accommodation for Carla to be in the tent next to them, in the care of his personal guard. The men who had escorted them to Solastire left with Bram, the elven army clearly unwilling to stay at close quarters to the Dark Fae in the current climate.

  Océane sat down on the camp bed with a tortured groan, and Laen rushed to sit beside her, grasping her hand in his. "What is it?” he demanded, his eyes full of concern. “Are you unwell, should I call a healer?"

  She looked at him and shook her head, smiling, if a little exasperated. "Don't start fussing,” she scolded him with a sigh. “I'm fine."

  "Then why were you groaning?" he said, refusing to be placated. She could almost see the parade of terrifying scenarios flickering behind his eyes.

  "I'm nearly six months pregnant, I'm entitled to groan if I feel like it," she muttered, wondering how many children would be born if the male of the species had to put up with it. "This baby clearly has its father's build, and weighs a bloody ton!" she added, shifting her position a little as the child kicked her under the ribs.