Ice ran through his veins, each heartbeat painfully aware.
What had happened to Brokk? He could take care of himself, he knew, but what had he sought after? Was he dead? Alive? Blinking hard, Memphis swore he would find him. Brokk was his family, and family didn’t end with blood, not when it came to Memphis.
The group moved silently and as swiftly as a shadow. The terrain had changed and then changed again, but Memphis didn’t care.
Azarius stopped, stating, “We’re home.”
An excited ripple spread through the rebels. Blinking, they stood before a small thicket of trees, not yet fully grown. One had a small curved crescent moon etched into its bark, and Azarius gently grazed his hand on it.
The mark shifted, as Memphis read the words that appeared underneath it, “Pentharrow”. Recognition flickered through Memphis—Pentharrow was a city east to the Academy said to have fallen years ago.
The tree was bathed in a golden light, and he stepped forward and disappeared. One by one, and without question, the group followed. Alby lingered by his side and hoarsely said, “Memph. For her.”
Glancing at his friend, Alby looked as afraid as Memphis felt. Nodding, they stepped forward, and after a tingling sensation washed over him, Memphis had to stop and blink hard, trying to make sense of what he saw.
A bustling town was alive before them. Children ran through the streets, barking dogs at their heels, families laughing and talking as they wove through buildings. The smell of freshly baked bread wafted through the air, and businesses went about their day. Yells of joy spread as rebels were reunited with their loved ones.
Memphis froze.
All this time, an entire town had survived freely under Adair’s eye as well as them. Azarius, arms crossed, stalked toward them. “You three are coming with me to see the healer. Now.”
Alby asked, “Is this what...”
“It’s exactly what it looks like, Alby.” Alby cursed under his breath in awe.
Memphis looked curiously over at his friend and asked, “What’s Penharrow to you?”
A small rueful emotion crossed his face, and he answered, “Home.”
Home: the word was filled with warmth and longing. One Memphis couldn’t recognize. His only home had been the Academy, which was just another memory now.
Sighing, he straightened his back and followed Azarius to a small cottage. Sage and different herbs hung from small baskets in the windows, its red brick glowing against the white shutters. Knocking once, they entered and were greeted with a squeal, “Azarius!”
A stunningly beautiful woman leaped up to throw her arms around Azarius, burrowing her face in his neck. She glanced up at them, her caramel eyes full of question. A dark green tunic and black pants fit tightly over her hazelnut skin, and she let go of Azarius, sizing them up.
“Lana, we have guests,” Azarius said.
She found Nyx in Memphis’s arms, and faltered. A steady stream of curses came before she ordered, “Get her on the table. Now.”
She wiped some jars and scrolls aside, and Memphis gingerly laid her down.
“All three of you, out, out, OUT!!!” she spoke with her hands, shuffling them out of the door in a wave and slamming it shut behind them.
When they were outside, Azarius glanced at Memphis. “She is in the best hands possible.” Then, clearing his throat, Azarius stared at him with dead eyes and said, “Now, you two. Let’s pay Morgan a visit.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Adair
The fire crackled hungrily as Adair stared at it. A week had passed, and his life had returned to its routine with purpose. He glanced up at the small chest on his bookshelf that held it.
Tapping his foot impatiently, he turned to stare at the door. It had only been five minutes since he had given the guard the okay to bring the prisoners up. The firelight cast shadows across his face, and he settled into an emotionless mask. The instructions had been clear. Bring Emory in first and then the other prisoner.
The knock resonated through the room - through his core. The man he once was felt a nervous twinge. The voices that caged him in hissed in disapproval. He wasn’t supposed to feel human emotions by this point.
Wearing a fitted black shirt, pants, and cloak with his dagger tucked away at his belt, Adair adjusting his jacket, then said, “Enter.”
The door opened and Emory was shoved forward, falling on her knees before him. Her matted black hair framed her face, her cheekbones poking out. Her smell...well, rancid didn’t quite cover it.
A minute passed in silence; her eyes locked with his. Then as if snapped out of a trance, she bowed her head low, saying, “Hello, Adair.”
Her voice had a clarity long lost on him. Smooth as velvet and clear as crystal. He nodded. “Emory.”
A pale arm extended as she helped herself up. Her clothes were in tatters, but straight backed, she searched for her words. She had his full attention. “I am here...”
He couldn’t help himself when he interrupted her, “To join me, yes. That was quite an entrance you made.”
Her eyes shone wickedly. “I have returned from the dead as you know.”
“It would seem that way.”Adair’s heart stuttered painfully when he realized he had missed her.
He studied her, at a loss for words. There was no flicker of fear or disgust as she took him in as well, more of a curiosity blooming.
She was not broken—not yet.
“Why should I trust you? How do I not know that after so many years, you aren’t here to kill me?”
Her eyes darkened. “You are my king. Given our history, I thought you would be interested in a deal. We both know our past does have some bearing. Besides, I have information that you will find useful.” Her lips curled back in a dangerous sneer, and adrenaline coursed through him.
Rebel information. He wouldn’t jump at the bait. Not yet.
“Before joining me, you will have to pass a series of trials. You must understand that I can and will sharpen you as my sword. But cross me...” he paused. “I will find out if you are trying to betray me, and I will kill you.”
Raising a delicate eyebrow at him, she asked, “Aren’t you interested in what I have to offer?”
Stopping in his tracks, he took her in.
“Adair, I know you want to join our families. Think about it. We are the last of our lines. Together, we would be unstoppable. I would be your queen.”
The darkness within him reeled in revulsion, where as the human part of him stopped and let that sink in: a union.
It’s what he had always wanted, always dreamed of. For a split second, hope started to course through him, but those iron doors came crashing down, trapping him once more. The voices chorused in approval as that familiar ice of nothingness filled him.
He adjusted his cuffs, saying, “I cannot trust you, and until you prove yourself to me as an equal, you will be my prisoner. As I said, I will sharpen you to be my sword.” Motioning to the guard, the door opened, and another guard stepped in.
There was a flicker of something he couldn’t place in Emory’s eyes as the prisoner was shoved forward roughly, and he staggered into the room. He was just as dirty, his breath ragged as he stared at Adair with a predatory fixation.
He had the most golden eyes. Golden eyes that Adair would know anywhere. Brokk Foster.
Smirking at Emory, Adair tried to gauge her reaction.
Emory muttered something under her breath then lunged for the guard’s sword behind her.
Brokk started to mutter a strange incantation, and Adair felt something stir within him. With a growl, Brokk lunged forward, hand outstretched toward his throat and far too humanly fast for Adair to react.
Emory was faster. A scream tore from her throat, and running forward, she slammed the blade deep into Brokk’s gut, and it sliced him open, the life spilling from him. Emory panted heavily, staring down at him when he dropped to the floor.
Adair froze.
Her green eyes were
on fire as she looked at him. “So, is that a yes?” She wiped the blade clean across her leg.
Adair buried his shock, as he took in Brokk Foster’s lifeless body. In return, he raised his eyebrow at her. “We will begin tomorrow at dawn.”
He watched the blood stain his carpet and turned black in the flames.
Epilogue
Ash floated gently through the wind as the remnants of the house crumbled. Embers pulsed in the night, and the creatures of the forest scurried past.
Something was off about the forest. It was the tiniest of movements as the ground shifted, gently at first and then more frantic, coals and rubble flying. Four black figures rose up from the ground, and sickly green light pulsed off their bodies. The woods had gone silent as the first figure lowered its hood, revealing its pitiless black eyes and sickening grin.
The Oilean moved to stand in a circle, each of the sisters clutching an emerald rock. They took a deep breath in unison and whispered, “Peyton is dead.”
Tucking their gems in their robes, they took in the foreign world around them. The willowy trees looked like skeletons in the night. Grinning at each other, they knew that they had succeeded: Brokk Foster had freed them from their bindings.
They had waited for years for the opportune moment, for the right person to come along. Truthfully, they were disappointed in how easily everyone had followed along.
Peyton had believed Brokk Foster was destined to die by her hand. When in truth, the Oilean hoped he would have killed Peyton faster. With Peyton dead, the Oilean opened the portal between Daer and Kiero, finally.
They rolled their necks, bones cracking and, in a mist of green light, started to walk, coals sparking in their wake. It was finally time to start their master’s plan and burn every inch of this kingdom to the ground.
Cackling, the Oilean disappeared into the night, leaving the grass singed and smoking where they had walked.
~ The End ~
To be continued...
Acknowledgements
I am full of gratitude as I write this, but without the following people, this series would be nothing more than a dream in my heart.
First, to my readers. Without your continuing support and enthusiasm for the world of Kiero and Emory’s story, it wouldn’t be out in the world, and for that I cannot express in words how eternally thankful I am—but thank you!!!
To my family and friends, for being my endless cheerleading squad and support—you are amazing!
To Jess, who read the first draft of this novel and shared my love for Kiero and its characters.
To Matt, this year has been one of the hardest, and yet this new edition came out of everything, and you are to thank for being there for me when things looked most bleak. I love you to the ends of the earth.
To Jaime, my publicist, thank you always for being an email away. I value your guidance and friendship and look forward to many more years working together!
To Emerald, this novel wouldn’t be in the shape it is without you, and thank you for being my awesome editor!!!
To Rae - Thank you for your work and being my extra set of eyes for this manuscript.
To Cora Graphics, you always go above and beyond for my dreams with any cover, and Heir of Lies is no exception.
Thank you to everyone at Chapters Indigo for your continued enthusiasm for helping me schedule successful book tours.
Lastly, to Link, Lola, and Leonard, I know you can’t read this, but you are the best dogs in the world.
About the Author
© Tiny Islands Photography
Mallory McCartney currently lives in Sarnia, Ontario with her husband and their three dachshunds Link, Lola, and Leonard. When she isn’t working on her next novel or reading, she can be found daydreaming about fantasy worlds and hiking. Other favorite pastimes involve reorganizing perpetually overflowing bookshelves and seeking out new coffee and dessert shops.
Follow her on Instagram @authormalmccartney.
Heir of Lies (Black Dawn Series Book 1) Page 42
