By a Thread

by Nyna Queen

  One look at his face was all the confirmation she needed. The smile curving his lips was full of a vicious craving. A wild, insatiable hunger.

  And suddenly she understood. Deathbringer. Soulhunter.

  He was sucking her dry, like a spider sucked on her victim, nurturing his magic with her strength and turning her into a weapon against herself.

  Alex writhed.

  The trueborn cocked his head to the side and watched her with the idle curiosity of a boy watching a dying insect squirming on the ground. Those burning eyes were pulling her in and she felt lost in a raging ocean beneath a starless sky with the depths reaching for her, tugging at her ankles. She desperately tried to stay afloat, but her body had gone cold and numb and she couldn’t feel her legs, her arms, even her eyes. Everything blurred until all she saw were two bright red stars beckoning her into an endless night.

  At least, Alex thought weakly, but with a hint of grim satisfaction as her mind started to shut down, she had given the children a decent chance of escape. There was just no way they couldn’t have heard the clamor of their fighting. Maybe … if they had reached the woods, found some place to hide … maybe … may …

  The fuzzy sound of running footsteps rippled through the sluggish darkness. Alex’s lids fluttered and through the veil of pain, she saw Josy’s head appear over the balcony railing, her eyes two dark flecks in the white oval of her face.

  NO! No, no, no! What were they doing? They should be gone by now. They should be—

  “Stop!” The shrill sound of the girl’s voice pierced the numbing fog around her mind.

  In a last gasp of desperation, Alex fought against Death’s grip on her.

  “Run!” she tried to scream, but only a helpless croak escaped her lips.

  The distant staccato of shoes on wood announced the kids clambering down the stairs, wasting her sacrifice. Stupid kids! Why? Why couldn’t they obey just once?

  Anger kept her afloat a second longer, but the misty darkness wrapped around her like a burial shroud made from the cloak of Death and yanked her down.

  The room dimmed around her.

  “Stop it!” Josy yelled again, somewhere far, far away.

  Alex wanted to tell them to run. She wanted to tell them that he was forfeit and that he wouldn’t stop. Certainly not because they were asking him to.

  But then, to her utter surprise—he did.

  Yet it was too late, the currents swallowed her and dragged her under.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE darkness shivered and receded, pulling Alex back from the edge. She broke through the forfeit’s magic like a drowning person through the surface of a churning sea, kicking and thrashing.

  The darkness tore like a veil.

  Slowly, the hall swam back into focus, with the trueborn still leaning over her, his dark magic hovering above him like a vicious storm cloud waiting to be released again. Yet he wasn’t looking at her, but something beyond her.

  A clattering sound came from behind. Alex turned her head just a little and was punished by a wave of nausea. The fuzzy figure of Josy just reached the bottom of the stairs, Max in tow.

  No!

  “Stop!” the girl called once more, catching the stairs starting newel and gasping for air. “Stop it! She helped us!”

  The trueborn recoiled as if stabbed with a knife and leaned back, staring down at Alex with an expression of plain incredulity on his face. It wasn’t much of a release, but it was enough; the moment the weight eased off her chest, her flight instinct kicked in and she burst free from his grip, flying back against the wall behind her, baring her teeth in a snarl.

  Two blurry shapes dashed past her, flinging themselves at the trueborn. No, not at him. Into his arms.

  What the—?

  “Uncle Darken!” Josy exclaimed as she pressed her face into his chest. “Oh, Uncle Darken!”

  Uncle? Alex blinked. Clearly, she must have misheard. She shook her head to expel the vertigo. When the world regained its contours, it presented her with the most bizarre picture imaginable: the trueborn had risen to his feet and the two kids were both clinging to him as if he was their lifebuoy in a wild open sea, completely untroubled by the lethal magic currents saturating the air around him.

  Watching Alex over the children’s heads, the man gently but firmly untangled himself from their grip and shoved them behind his back—as if she was the one they needed protection from! Hah!

  He fixed her with his burning stare. Alex leaned forward and opened her mouth, baring her teeth in challenge. Bring it, asshole! This time I’m prepared!

  The air darkened around him. He raised his arms at his sides and magic danced along the fingers of his bare hand like black lightning. She felt his power condense above him, dark and deadly, pressing against her.

  Josy grabbed his sleeve and tugged at it, forcefully.

  “Please, stop it! She helped us. She really did.” Her eyes were wide, and she nervously licked her lips.

  The forfeit hesitated. His face twisted, and his head jerked. There was a hint of that terrifying madness in his eyes, the same madness she’d seen in the bar when he’d considered attacking Mitja and it struggled to break free. Alex could tell that he was hovering on the edge of violence, a drawn sword hungry for a strike.

  She braced herself. If he lashed out, she’d jump and hope he missed. And then she’d go for his legs. Safest bet for her right now.

  Never taking his eyes off her, the man slightly turned toward the children.

  “Is that true?” There was a brittle huskiness in his deep voice as if speaking was presenting a tremendous effort for him.

  Both kids nodded frantically.

  “It is,” Josy breathed. “I swear it.”

  “Yes, she saved us.” Max glanced from him to Alex and back, a slightly uncertain look in his eyes as if he wasn’t quite sure what was going on but he sure as hell didn’t like it. He gave a little whine. “Please don’t hurt her.”

  The man turned back to Alex, pondering her, his fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides. The blood-red darkness in his eyes called to her soul, whispering, beckoning. A siren call of perdition.

  Alex held on tightly to her spider-self, not standing back, but not making any move to provoke him either, knowing that whatever happened next would decide whether this would end in bloodshed or not.

  After what seemed an eternity, the man slowly lowered his arms and she felt the pressure of his magic ease. The darkness melted around them. Wow, she hadn’t even realized how dark it had become in here.

  With a tiny breath of relief, Josy let go of his arm. The trueborn gave her a quick glance as if to make sure she was okay, before he focused back on Alex, his face glazing over with glacial politeness, changing him from burning demon-forfeit to ice-carved trueborn noble in a breath.

  He slightly bowed his head in her direction. “In that case, I am very sorry that I tried to kill you.”

  Yeah, bullshit!

  “Well, I’m just sorry that I failed,” Alex growled, rubbing her neck, trying to get rid of the memory of the vicious bite of his magic.

  He stiffened, and his eyes sparked dangerously. Alex smiled and let her claws slip out of their beds.

  “Oh, for the merciful Mother’s sake, will you please stop it—both of you!” Josy rushed between them, hands outstretched to both sides, palms out, looking slightly desperate.

  The spider in Alex purred, a scoffing little feline chuckle. Stupid little mouse. Stepping between two snarling predators dancing along the killing edge. Not clever, little girl. Not clever at all.

  Josy seemed to realize the same, for her eyes widened and she paled visibly. However, she stood her ground. You had to give it to her. She wasn’t a complete coward. It did take some guts to step between a blood hungry forfeit and a pissed off shaper.

  Huge honey eyes darted between Alex and the trueborn, obviously trying to make some kind of decision. Finally, the girl turned her back on the trueborn and faced Alex,
nervously weaving her fingers together.

  Alex arched an eyebrow. So, she was considered the bigger threat in this room? Interesting. Normally that wouldn’t be much of a surprise. When a trueborn forfeit was on the other side of the equation, well … then it was quite a statement.

  The girl took a deep breath. “Alex, this is our uncle Darken.”

  Uncle, huh? So, she hadn’t misheard. Now, what a sweet family reunion in the deepest halfborn territory. Wasn’t it a small world? Coincidences, coincidences.

  Josy bit her lip and bend at her hip until she was looking at the forfeit. “Uncle—this is Alexis.” There was a short moment of hesitation. “She’s a shaper.”

  “I figured that much myself,” the man said dryly. Without the rugged growl, his voice had a deep, velvet timbre that sent a soft shiver over Alex’s skin.

  “Yes, she’s a spider!” Max volunteered from the side.

  Alex groaned inwardly. Safe to tell the children, right? Why even try to keep something secret, when those kids just blurted it out to anyone. Especially him. Luckily, she didn’t possess a social security number or bank account number, or he’d probably know about them as well by now.

  “A spider, huh?” A hint of a smile played around the trueborn’s lips as he reached out and ruffled Max’s hair. It had the most devastating effect. For a second it softened the sharp, haughty edges of his features, lifting the carved mask from his face and giving her a tiny glimpse at the real man underneath—and that man wasn’t just handsome, he was freaking hot.

  Alex blinked her eyes several times. Wow, she really must have hit her head harder than she’d thought. After all, he was still the same man who had almost killed her a moment ago. And still would, if she put only a toe out of line—whatever that line was. He’d stepped back from the edge, true, but it hadn’t been for her benefit, she held no sugary illusions there. And he was still close. She knew. She certainly was.

  “Let me guess,” the man leaned forward, a slightly teasing note in his voice, “she turns into a giant black widow and runs around crushing people’s skulls for a lark?”

  Despite herself, Alex had to bite her lip to keep from smirking. So, she wasn’t the first one to have been favored with that particular story—and who knew it was utter bullshit.

  Max’s ears turned scarlet.

  “Uhhhm, nooo,” he admitted sheepishly. “But she does have poisonous fangs—and she can climb up walls just like this.” He snapped his fingers.

  The trueborn’s eyes shortly flickered to the ceiling from where she’d jumped him and a muscle in his jaw twitched. “You don’t say.”

  “She does!” Max nodded wildly. “I’ve seen it with my own eyes. It’s pretty bad-ass, too. And she killed the evil men who were following us in a heartbeat!”

  The change was instant and alarming: the streak of mirth vanished and everything about him sharpened like a knife drawn along a grindstone. “What men?”

  Both kids spoke at the same time.

  After a moment, the trueborn raised a hand and they immediately fell silent again.

  “One at a time.” He nodded at Josy, which Alex thought was a wise choice. Max was too excited for any straight recollection of events and he got distracted way too quickly.

  The girl swallowed and then told him the whole story, haltingly first, but finally, it all gushed out of her as if a dam had been broken.

  Alex noted with relief that it more or less matched the version of events they’d given her, except for a lot more details and side-comments especially from Max, she didn’t know what to do with, like “Could he believe that it was Heather who had taken his pepper-quill?” and “Would he mind helping them with ‘the house’ when they finally arrived at the country estate?”

  The trueborn listened silently, his face growing darker with every word. Alex watched him from the side, trying to assess his reactions. There wasn’t much to draw from. As a shaper, she was particularly sensitive to emotional currents, the tastes and scents of hormones on skin. Combining them with the visible physical signs that went along with certain states and feelings, her core was able to interpret them and usually allowed her to decipher what people really felt, despite what they were showing. Especially strong emotions “leaked” from people just like this man leaked deadly magic. But apart from that, everything around him felt … muted. Vague. Like trying to reach a person behind a thick pane of glass.

  When they reached the part where the guard captain was shot, his mouth briefly flattened into a hard line. When Josy told him how the would-be-guardaí had almost caught them in the woods his hand jerked a little as if he wanted to draw a non-existent sword. And when she told him that Max teleported them more than five hundred miles to Bhellidor his eyebrows drew together—Alex thought she smelled a hint of surprise on him.

  And then came the part in the bar, where her own involvement had started. It was strange to hear the known events described by someone else. It was both an under and overstatement, especially when Max cut in to declare, “She killed them in, like, five seconds or something. It was amaaaazing!”

  As much as she appreciated the boy’s praise, it didn’t seem like the best tactic to convince the trueborn that she wasn’t to be considered a threat.

  Darken’s gaze skimmed over her, still saturated with all the colors of mistrust, but there was also a new note in it: Surprise? Wariness? Respect? It was hard to tell without any sensory backing.

  After they’d finished, he leaned back against the wall, watching her for a while over steepled fingers from those unnerving dark eyes. Alex returned his gaze coldly. If he thought she would flinch, he was barking up the wrong tree.

  “It really does seem like you saved my niece and nephew,” he finally said quietly, sounding surprised by that fact. “For that, you deserve my gratitude”—Deserve! Hah! As if he was granting her some great personal honor!—“so please forgive me if I’m being frank: Why would a shaper help two trueborn children?”

  Oh, great Mother, not him too! Alex almost rolled her eyes. Why did everybody have to ask that damn question?

  Oh, but you know why, sugar. You know exactly why. And that is the point, isn’t it?

  Alex hiked her shoulders, flipping a strand of hair out of her face.

  “They are children,” she said flatly. “Someone was trying to kill them. It might come as a shock, but in that situation, it seemed like the right thing to do. We are not all bloodthirsty monsters, you know—some of us do have moral standards.” Although sometimes she wished she didn’t. In this particular case, it would have saved her so much trouble. Of course, the kids would be dead, but hey, at least nobody would have felt wrong about it.

  Darken’s lips curled at the corners as he looked down at her, every inch haughtiness carved into human form. “You will understand that I have trouble believing that.”

  “Sugar, I don’t give a shit about what you choose to believe or not,” Alex snapped. “I don’t have to justify myself to you.” So why on earth did she sound like she was doing exactly that? Who was he to judge her anyway? He was a fucking forfeit. A state-licensed assassin. And he was honestly questioning her morals? Please! Just because he was their bloody uncle didn’t give him the right to—

  Wait a minute! He was their uncle! He was their fucking uncle!

  “You know what?” She raised her hands. “This is great, actually. You’re here now. You’re their uncle. Why don’t you just take it from here and I’ll be off and on my way.”

  Wherever that will lead me. She didn’t say those last words out loud but thinking them hurt just as much.

  “I don’t think so.”

  Alex felt a shudder run down her back at the sound of his voice and stiffened, her upper lip curling back in preparation of a hiss. Her eyes narrowed to slits. “And why is that?”

  The look he gave her was odd. “Didn’t you listen to the news today?”

  What did the news have to do with anything?

  “Actually, I was a bit oc
cupied.”

  Darken glanced from her to the children and back, his eyes widening in genuine surprise. “You really don’t have a clue who you are traveling with, do you?”

  And what was that supposed to mean? She shrugged, testily. What was there to know, really?

  “Some pair of spoiled trueborn aristo kids who have been babied a little too much throughout their lives for my taste?”

  Both Max and Josy gave loud exclamations of indignation, which she ignored.

  Darken sighed and gave the kids an I-should-have-known look. There it was again, this fleeting exchange of glances between Max and Josy, and this time it was unmistakably laced with guilt. Alex felt a quiver in her stomach. Oh no, this wouldn’t be good.

  The gaze Darken gave her was almost … apologetic. He cleared his throat. “May I introduce to you, Josepha and Maxwell Dubois-Léclaire.”

  The world took a turn too fast.

  “Dubois-Léclaire? The Dubois-Léclaire?” Alex voice almost snapped, but she couldn’t help it. “Like—Senator Stephane Dubois-Léclaire?”

  “The very same.”

  The ground lurched beneath her, and she reached for the wall, suddenly in desperate need of its support.

  Mother’s mercy and Jester’s grace! No wonder the whole district was running amok. They weren’t just some royal kids. They were the kids. The Dubois-Léclaire children. Their father was only the most favored candidate for this year’s Southern gubernatorial election. People already called him the designated Governor of the South, and not too softly, either. If he won—and the odds of that were quite high if the media could be trusted—they’d be one of the mightiest families of the whole Republic. The cream of the crop. Only the Prime’s family would be higher up in ranking. And she’d managed to get herself involved in their elite wire-pulling.

  Ah shit! Alex groaned and covered her face with her hands. Great. Just why did she have to interfere? Why had she agreed to take Darcy’s bloody shift in the first place? Great. Great. Marvelous.

  “They didn’t bother to tell you, did they?”