by H. D. Gordon
Surah’s head turned as he entered. She said nothing, just sighed internally and turned back to her father.
Theo took a few steps toward her. “I’m glad to see you’ve returned safely, princess,” he said, and his eyes fell on the Black Stone resting on Syrian’s chest. “And you’ve brought back the Black Stone as well. Impressive.”
Surah’s rubbed at her forehead. “Thank you, Hunter Gray,” she said.
Theo spied the red ring around her wrist that peeked out of her cloak sleeve, and he stepped around the bed, anger spiraling in his eyes as he took in the black and purple bruise on the left side of her face.
“Who did that to you?” he asked.
Surah’s voice sounded robotic when she spoke. She considered lying, but saw no point in it. “Black Heart,” she said.
“So he did have you captive, then?”
Surah nodded, her eyes still glued to her father.
“And how did you escape?”
Surah looked up now. “If you don’t mind, Hunter Gray,” she said, using great effort not to speak between clenched teeth, “I would like some time to rest. I’m sure you will get all the details from my father, after I speak with him, but for now, I’m tired. It’s been an extremely long day. I believe some silence is in order.”
Theo gave a low bow, and Surah watched him closely as he did so, unable to tell how he was taking this command. She didn’t even really care if he was offended. She was too tired and hurt and worried to care.
Theo moved toward the door again, flicking his wrist so that it swung open. He stopped when he got there and looked back at her. She could feel his eyes on her, but she remained facing the bed.
“Of course, my princess,” he said. “I’ve other things to attend to, anyhow.”
Surah said nothing
In a light voice, he added, “I’ve got a prisoner to question and a very probable execution to arrange, pending trial, of course.”
Surah’s shoulders tightened a fraction. Her head turned to the side, looking at him over her shoulder, her violet eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“I don’t want to scare you,” he said. “But Charlie Redmine was found lying in wait in your chambers about an hour ago.” He paused. Surah’s teeth clenched at the dramatic effect. “Don’t worry, princess. You’re safe now. The traitor is locked away in the dungeons, and you have my word that it will be the last place he ever sees on this earth.”
Theo shut the door behind him, leaving Surah alone with her unconscious father, her heart jackhammering in her chest.
She rubbed her forehead with her fingers and thought, Well, shit.
Chapter 32
Surah
Two days had passed and her father had yet to gain full consciousness. He awoke only a handful of times, and even then his eyes stayed just below half-mast, his voice coming out in nonsensical mumbles.
Surah was present for every awakening, leaning over his bedside and smiling down at him with unshed tears in her eyes. He was getting better. She could see that, but Bassil had been right about the king’s recovery taking some time, which seemed to be the one thing she’d been running short on lately.
She stayed by her father as many hours of the day as she could spare, which was not as many as she would have liked. She had been a busy girl these past two days, tending to royal matters in her father’s stead, making comforting speeches to the people, most of whom were completely unaware of how close they’d come to losing their king.
On top of that, she’d been trying to figure out how to clear Charlie Redmine’s name. To put it truthfully, she’d been trying to find a way to save his life.
It wasn’t as easy a task as one might think it should be.
The royals were angry, and understandably so, but that didn’t make their refusal to see reason any less aggravating. They were calling for blood in the names of their lost ones. She had spoken to several of them privately, including the parents of Merin Nightborn and Cynthian Lancer, to try and explain that Charlie Redmine was not like his brother, that he had assisted in her escape, that he had nothing to do with the murders of their children.
Lady Nightborn responded with a threat to take the matter to the public. Lord Lancer accused Surah of having a soft heart, of incapable of ruling because she was a female, and even used the word coward.
To say the least, the talks had gone less than well.
And to make matters worse, Theo seemed determined to keep his promise. Surah wasn’t sure why Theo wanted Charlie dead, except that she suspected he knew more than he was letting on. She told herself that was silly, that there was no way Theo could know about the… relationship between her and Charlie, if you could even call it that.
She’d visited him in the dungeons, but only once, and for less than five minutes, just long enough to tell him she was trying to clear his name, to assure him she hadn’t forgotten about him, and that everything would be all right.
But everything was not all right. Everything was about as far from all right as it could get.
Her father couldn’t help her, not in his condition, and she knew the royals would not wait long enough for him to recover. Theodine Gray wouldn’t wait, either. They wanted answers, an open and shut trial, and yes, an execution.
On top of that, Black Heart was still on the loose, probably plotting his crazy revenge.
The only fortunate thing so far was that Jude Flyer had been surprisingly eager to help when she’d come to him, asking him to defend Charlie. The pudgy little man’s face had lit up, and he’d listened to Surah’s story—with the understanding that it was completely confidential—with excited attentiveness.
She’d told him the truth, leaving out the parts that didn’t seem to require adding, like the song Charlie had sung her to set her free, like the embrace they’d shared that had made her insides twist and her chest go warm. Those things had nothing at all to do with the matter.
Or so she kept telling herself.
But even with Jude Flyer’s help, the odds of getting Charlie clear of the charges were not looking good, and Jude had told her this flat out. Charlie was the only witness to the murder of Merin Nightborn. The place she died was his establishment. He was the brother of a feared criminal, kin to a known outlaw. These things may all have been circumstantial, but all he had in his favor was the word of the princess, and grieving people could be relentless in their efforts for revenge.
They had a bird in the hand and they wanted its bones crushed under their fingers.
Surah sat in her chambers now, having sought a few moments of peace away from her father’s room, which she had come to think of as the sick room. She sat up in the wide window sill beside Samson, her knees drawn up and tucked under her cloak.
She stared out at the kingdom below, at the ornate houses and tall towers, at the glittering lights and cobblestone pathways and red rooftops. People moved around down there, going about their lives as if nothing was wrong, completely unaware of the turmoil going on inside the castle.
This was why she envied them sometimes. It seemed like such a dream to be able to live life so simply, a thing she could only see but never touch.
She was not fit to rule a kingdom. She’d suspected so before, but she knew now. Her respect for her father had grown greatly. It was a terrible thing to be under this kind of pressure, to have people depending on her to do what was right and fix things, as if the things that were broken could even be fixed.
A knock sounded on her door, and she climbed down from the window and stood, smoothing out her cloak as she did so.
With a flick of her wrist, the door swung open, and Bassil stood there. The grave look on his face sent a shiver down her spine.
The Warlock entered the room and shut the door behind him, his patchwork cloak flipping with his rushed movements. Surah stepped forward, her pulse racing.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
The big man said nothing, just took her by the hands and pulled h
er to a seat on the bed. Surah was surprised by this, but offered no protest. She was too busy just breathing.
“I’m afraid I have bad news, princess,” Bassil said.
Surah’s heart dropped. She’d suspected as much, but hearing him say it was worse. Her face was carefully void of expression, her voice painfully light.
“What news is that?”
Bassil’s dark brown eyes held hers for a long moment. Then he said, “Charlie Redmine will not live to see the morning.”
Chapter 33
Surah
Surah couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
She just sat there, staring at him, her face smooth and blank. After several minutes, Bassil cleared his throat. “Those who are angry have arranged his death, my lady. They have no plans to let him see trial.”
Surah let out a slow breath. “How did you come by this knowledge?”
“In the way that I come by all knowledge, my lady. I am a Watcher, as you well know. I believe it is the real reason your father has kept me around for so long. I see most all that goes on within the castle and city.” He gave her a knowing smile, and Surah looked away.
Bassil’s deep voice was just a whisper now. “You know I speak truth, princess.”
“Who is behind it, Bassil? Who has given the word?”
“There are several, and I bet you could guess most of them, but that’s not really what’s important right now.” The Warlock reached into his cloak and removed his sundial. He flipped the face open, looked at it, and flipped it shut again.
His dark face was deadly serious when he looked back up at her. “How did your Charlie put it? Time is…of the essence.”
Surah stood from the bed and paced over to the window, where Samson still sat, his head raised, ears perked. “Why do you call him ‘my Charlie’?” she asked. “That man is not mine.”
Bassil’s head tilted, and his white teeth flashed in a smile. “No?”
Surah threw her hands up, all the frustration and anxiety that had been building up the past two days snatching away her composure.
“Enough of this, Bassil. If you’ve got something to say, speak plainly. I am not in the mood for games. What is it you think, that I’m in love with the man?”
“I never said that, princess.”
Surah placed a gloved hand on her hip, trying to keep the pink out of her cheeks. “Then what are you saying?”
Bassil sighed and stood. He went over to Surah and placed his large hands on her shoulders. “What I am saying, princess, is just what I said. I make no suggestions or accusations. What you do with the information is your decision. Forgive me, but I thought it would be of your interest. I may be wrong, but the point is, Charlie Redmine will not live to see the sunrise on this day if he remains where he is.”
Surah looked over at Samson, and she knew the tiger could see plainly the horror in her lovely violet eyes. He had been mostly silent over the past couple days, as if brooding over something he hadn’t bothered to tell her, and of course, he was. But he would always be there when she needed him. He was her North Star.
What he said was: Like the moon loves the night and the sun loves the day.
Surah did not know what to say to this, so she said nothing.
That evening, she found herself in the dungeons, standing outside Charlie Redmine’s cell, having made up a lie to the Hunters standing guard about why she needed to see the prisoner.
When he looked up and saw her, his voice came out in a deep whisper. “Surah.”
She came forward and gripped the bars of his cell . “Charlie,” she breathed, releasing a long breath. She hadn’t realized that she’d been worried she’d be too late until just this moment.
Charlie gave her a half smile, dimple appearing in his cheek. “You okay?” he asked.
She gave a quiet laugh, but it was ringed with anxiety. Her high cheekbones were flushed, and her heart was hammering in her chest. “You’re asking me if I’m okay?” she said.
Charlie just looked at her, his shoulders relaxed, face calm. “What’s going on?”
Surah spoke lowly and quickly, deciding to get on with it before she lost her nerve and changed her mind.
“That song you sang to break the spell, to free me,” she said. “What was the name of it?”
Charlie’s mouth tightened, and for a second she thought he was not going to answer. Then he looked down at his hands and spoke in a whisper, with more hesitancy in his voice than she had ever heard from him before, as if it pained him to say it.
“Surah’s Song,” he said. “It’s called Surah’s Song.”
What he did next took her by utter surprise. His strong arms encircled her waist through the bars, sliding under her cloak and pulling her to him, pressing their bodies close together despite the metal separating them. His hand came up and lifted her chin, forcing her to look up into his green eyes.
Surah’s mind raged at her to pull away, but her body leaned into him, her own hands coming up and lacing around his neck. His arms tightened around her waist, and she was glad for this because her knees were feeling less than sturdy. Her heart was thumping in her chest, her blood racing and rushing through her veins, and no matter how much she told herself she should stop this, she was powerless to do so. She didn’t want to pull away. She didn’t want the moment to end. She didn’t want to let Charlie Redmine go. Not ever.
And it would have gone on longer. It would have lasted a lifetime, and in a way, she supposed it would. But, then, a voice spoke from the shadows outside the cell, and the moment was broken like shattered glass. She could almost hear the cracking.
The voice said only one word, but the cold, hard way it was spoken was enough for both Charlie and Surah to know the speaker instantly, and they looked over to see the gray eyes of the Head Hunter staring at them from the shadows beyond the cell.
Theodine Gray said, “Traitor.”
Murderous anger laced his tone.
Surah did not allow herself time to think. She took Charlie Redmine’s hand and wrapped her other around her sister’s Stone that hung around her neck, a temporary replacement for the one she planned to get back from Charlie’s brother.
Because she was sure she would be seeing Black Heart again. It was not over between them. No, she had a feeling it had only just begun.
She took a single deep breath and teleported Charlie out of there, the imprint of Theo’s angry gray eyes stuck behind her lids like a flash of light.
Surah wondered what the hell she was doing as she held his hand tightly and they flew over space and time.
But once again, rather than flying, it felt more like falling.
She could only hope Charlie Redmine was also falling alongside her.
The End…For Now.
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Also by H. D. Gordon
The Blood Pack Trilogy
Moon of Fire
Moon of Shadows
The Alexa Montgomery Series
Blood Warrior
Half Black Soul
The Rise
Redemption
The Aria Fae Series
The Halfling
The Masked Maiden
The Blue Beast
The Haunted Hero
The Wolf Wars Series
Moon Burned
Moon Broken
Moon Born
About the Author
H. D. Gordon is the author of several urban fantasy novels. She is the mother of two amazing daughters, and a lover of kick-ass females, beautiful places, and nerdy t-shirts.
She believes our actions have ripple effects, and in the sacred mission of bringing love and light to the world.
When she isn’t reading or writing, she spends her time with family and taking strolls by the sea.
H. D. resides in southern New Jersey—which she insists is real
ly quite lovely.
For more information, please visit:
www.hdgordonbooks.com
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