Dark Breaks the Dawn

by Sara B. Larson

  “How about if I just hold your hands,” Evelayn offered, “and you can squeeze them if it hurts too much.”

  “If you insist.” Kel sighed, but she caught the flash of relief across his face. She moved so that he could rest his head in her lap and lifted his arms so she could grip his hands.

  “Ready when you are.” She nodded to Tanvir, who had been busy cutting off the leg of Kel’s pants and tearing the fabric into strips.

  “I just need to find something to set it for the night, and we can get this over with.” He hurried over to the tree line and quickly returned with two long branches and set them beside Kel. “All right. This is going to hurt. Are you ready?”

  Kel nodded, his hands flexing in Evelayn’s.

  “Here we go,” Tanvir muttered under his breath. Then he grabbed Kel’s leg with both hands and yanked.

  There was an audible snap. Kel’s back arched, and he squeezed Evelayn’s hands so tightly she was afraid he was going to break her bones. But he didn’t make a single noise, not even a groan. His forehead beaded with sweat as Tanvir worked, quiet and efficient. Evelayn kept her eyes on Kel’s face, rather than watching.

  There was another snap and this time Kel’s head thrashed, his teeth baring, as though it was all he could do not to bellow in agony.

  “Almost done,” Tanvir assured them.

  Evelayn glanced up to see him placing the pieces of wood and quickly binding them with the strips of fabric to Kel’s now-straight leg.

  “All finished,” Tanvir finally announced, rocking back on his haunches to survey his handiwork.

  Kel sighed in relief, and his grip relaxed on Evelayn’s aching hands.

  “We’d better rest here tonight. He shouldn’t move that leg until morning, when the bone has had a chance to fuse back together.” Tanvir stood up and brushed the dirt off his knees. “I’ll prepare camp.”

  “I can help,” Evelayn offered, but he waved her off.

  “Stay with him and rest. It will only take a moment. And I’ll take first watch.”

  He turned and strode over to where they’d dropped their packs without another word, and Evelayn didn’t protest. Now that Kel’s leg was fixed and on its way to healing correctly, exhaustion washed over her once more—as well as the memory of all that she’d done. The silk, the promise, and tearing the hole in the wards.

  Evelayn glanced across the border, contemplating what to do about the gap she’d created in their defenses, when she saw a flicker of movement in the depths of the forest. Fatigue gone in an instant, she narrowed her eyes, straining to see through the darkness. For a long moment, nothing moved. Evelayn hardly dared breathe. And then, with a mournful call, a bird took flight from the spot where she’d first noticed something.

  Spooked, Evelayn slowly stood and stepped closer to the border. If that had been a Dark Draíolon, he or she could have walked right in to Éadrolan and then gone back to alert the king as to the hole in the wards. She couldn’t leave her kingdom vulnerable like this—somehow, she had to fix what she’d done.

  But she had the sinking feeling that fixing the hole was going to be much more difficult than making it.

  “Eve—er, Your Majesty? Is everything all right?”

  “I thought I saw something,” Evelayn responded to Tanvir without turning around. “It ended up being a bird, but what if it had been a Dark Draíolon? I can’t leave the hole like this. I have to try and repair what I did.”

  “Do you know how?”

  She simply said no, and then closed her eyes and stretched her hands out, once more searching for the infinitesimal layers of magic she’d felt before blasting through them. Tanvir didn’t speak again, and Evelayn tried to ignore the fact that he was probably watching her, waiting for something to happen, wondering how she was going to accomplish this when she’d admitted to not knowing how.

  Long minutes passed while she concentrated, searching for the layers, but there was only the cool night air and a faint, pulsing ebb of power from the hole she’d torn in the wards. A cold finger of fear scraped down her spine. How big was the gap she’d created? What if she’d destroyed the wards completely?

  Panic threatened to swoop in, but Evelayn forced herself to breathe through it, to try and hold it at bay and think. Perhaps, if she walked a little bit closer to Ristra where the priestesses created the wards, she would find the severed threads? Evelayn began to slowly tread the line of the border, with one hand still extended, reaching for something … anything.

  “Evelayn, where are you—”

  Tanvir’s question was silenced by Kel shushing him, but Evelayn ignored them both, suddenly freezing in place.

  There. A flicker … no, a thread!

  A wave of relief crashed over her when she took another couple of steps and the threads multiplied and grew until it felt exactly as the invisible wall had before she’d destroyed a section of it. The double layer was intact; she could feel the connection all the way back to Ristra.

  “Oh, thank the Light,” she murmured. At least it wasn’t as bad as she’d feared for a few agonizing minutes. But she still didn’t know how to duplicate it and fill in the chasm. If only she’d had time to train with the priestesses, like all other royals did when they came into their full power. There’s no sense wishing for what can’t be, she scolded herself. Focus. You can do this. You have to do this.

  Evelayn lifted her hands to the magical wall, and shut her eyes once more. And again, she was awed by the complexity of the threads that made up the two layers. They were strands of Light, so unbelievably thin as to be invisible, woven together to create the different sides of the wards. Could she create that? As Kel had said, she should be able to … But when Evelayn tried, calling to her power, trying to coax it out a tiny bit at a time, the light that burst out of her hands was still far too big—and too visible—to be right.

  She had the uncomfortable sense that she was being watched, but Evelayn didn’t turn to face Kel and Tanvir. They didn’t need to see the frustration and fear of defeat on her face. Instead, she decided to try something else. If she couldn’t figure out how to create the wards, perhaps she could stretch them somehow? She was the conduit for all their power, including that which made up the wards. They should bend to her will, allow her to manipulate and pull them.

  A cold draft from Dorjhalon blew Evelayn’s hair away from her face, biting through her tunic, but she ignored the chill and called to the Light, willing the threads to come to her. Almost immediately the strands leapt forward, toward her outstretched hands. Triumphant, Evelayn repeated the process, taking a few steps closer to Kel and Tanvir, and then calling the wards to her. And every time, the power responded, stretching, growing, filling in the void. Until finally, finally, after continuing a good twenty paces past where Tanvir stood watching her with his arms crossed, she found the eastern edge of the wards where the gap ended. When she urged the two to join, they did so seamlessly, merging into one great whole.

  The wards were complete once more.

  Evelayn exhaled slowly, tension seeping out of her as she turned to face Tanvir. She was thrilled but completely drained now that she’d succeeded, and her fear slowly began to ebb away.

  “Did it work?” He asked, taking a step toward the border.

  She held up a hand to signal him to stop. “Yes. So don’t you dare go through to the other side, because I’m not doing all of that again.”

  Tanvir laughed lightly. “Never fear, I fully intend to stay on this side of the border.”

  Evelayn made her way back over to where Kel still lay on the ground, visibly pale, even in the darkness, but smiling at her despite the pain he was undoubtedly experiencing. “I knew you could do it.”

  “Well, that makes one of us.” She dropped unceremoniously to the ground beside him. “But at least I figured it out.”

  “I’ll find us something to eat,” Tanvir offered, and she nodded, too exhausted to even try to help.

  “Despite everyone’s fears and do
ubts, you did it, Your Highness. You have the silk and the wards are back in place. I think your mother would be impressed.”

  Evelayn smiled gratefully at Kel’s praise. Yes, she’d done it, but she couldn’t forget that it had all come with a price. Think about that later, she told herself.

  For now, they had to focus on getting back to the castle and putting her plan into action.

  It was time to defeat Bain.

  THE SKY WAS STILL NAVY BLUE, ONLY THE FIRST FEW blushing streaks of light snaking across the expanse, when Tanvir startled awake. It was the same nightmare again, as it was nearly every night. Nervous that he’d cried out in his sleep, he glanced over to where Evelayn sat near Kel; she’d been there since taking over watch a few hours prior, but she continued to stare out into the forest, unaware that he had woken. Her hair was falling out of its braid, and a streak of dirt smudged across the alabaster skin of her cheek. She was grimy and unkempt. And she was stunning.

  As he watched, her head listed forward for a moment but then snapped back up with a jerk. That tiny indication of weakness—of exhaustion—made something inside him ache for her. Other than the morning on the lawn when she’d realized her mother had died, she’d never been anything but resolute in her purpose. She was so strong, so indomitably determined … it was easy to forget that she had only reached her maturity a brief time ago. Her power block had been removed for less than a season. And she had already been forced to become a queen, to shoulder the burden of a war, to learn to wield her power all at once, to face an Ancient, and now to return home to finalize her plan to stop King Bain—something neither of her parents had been successful at achieving.

  And yet she never seemed to waver, never faltered in the face of doing what she must to save her people.

  Evelayn turned to look at him, as if sensing his gaze, and when their eyes met, it felt as though time itself paused momentarily. Everything grew very still; even his heart stopped beating for the space of a breath. In the early morning light her violet eyes were vivid, so vibrant … and they entrapped him completely.

  The force of what he felt for her hit him so strongly in that moment that he could no longer deny it. He was in love with the queen of Éadrolan.

  “What are you thinking?” she whispered.

  “You don’t want to know,” he whispered back.

  “Try me.”

  But Tanvir shook his head. He was afraid of what loving her meant … afraid of where it would lead him. Instead of speaking, he silently crawled over to where she sat, and then sat back on his heels, reaching up to stroke a finger down her cheek, wiping away the streak of dirt from her soft skin.

  She looked at him steadily, no hesitation on her face. He could scent her growing desire, see it in her eyes, which darkened to the color of plums. Evelayn wanted him, he knew. But did she feel what he did? And if so … what did that mean for them?

  “What are you thinking?” she repeated, her voice low and throaty.

  Tanvir reached up with his other hand to cup her face on both sides. The first ray of sunlight broke to the east, painting her skin golden. Her lips parted slightly, and it was more than he could resist. Tanvir bent forward to kiss her, a soft, hesitant brush of his mouth against hers.

  What are you doing? You can’t have this. You can’t have her, he chastised himself, but then she kissed him back, pressing in closer so that she could wind her arms around his neck and he was lost. She gripped his shirt, meeting his passion and desperation with her own.

  I love you. The words were right there, ready to be spoken, as her mouth parted beneath his, as his hands roamed over her back and plunged into her hair, slanting her head beneath his.

  I love you. He suddenly broke away, breathing heavily, staring into her flushed face, her questioning eyes.

  “I love you, Evelayn.” The words slipped out before he could stop them, a hushed admission that made everything inside him stop and cringe, waiting for her response.

  She seemed stunned for a moment but then she smiled—such an achingly beautiful, hopeful smile that it stole his breath. “I’m afraid I love you, too, Lord Tanvir.”

  “Afraid is an interesting word choice.” Tanvir smiled back at her. “But accurate,” he continued before she could say anything else. “I’m afraid, too. You have no idea.”

  She leaned forward to kiss him again, a soft press of her lips against his, making his heart thunder beneath his ribs. “So what now?” she asked against his mouth.

  “I’m not sure.”

  Kel groaned from behind them and Evelayn jumped back.

  “I see one of your fears is getting caught,” Tanvir teased, even though he felt hot and cold all at once, his blood pounded through his veins like a warning. Do you know what you’re doing? That little voice in his head nagged at him. The answer was no, he had no clue what he was doing. But he knew he loved her. And if she loved him … perhaps … just maybe there was a way to be together. Somehow. Even though she was who she was. And he was who he was. Could they make it work? Despite everything?

  “I think he’s waking up. I hope his leg healed enough to run today.” Evelayn watched Kel while Tanvir watched her.

  “I’ll get us something to eat and then we should get started,” Tanvir suggested, standing and glancing toward the eastern horizon, where the sun was nearly risen. It was no time to worry about whether they could be together or not—first they had to finish what had been started. They had to defeat Bain. Only then could they begin to hope for a future.

  Together or not.

  Shifting was like breathing to Lorcan. He dove out of the darkened sky toward the tower but had returned to his Draíolon form before his feet even touched the stones.

  His mother waited for him in the shadows, her cloak pulled up against the wind that buffeted the turret. Lorcan bent to kiss her cheek, and he felt it crease into a smile.

  “I take it the trip was successful?”

  “Indeed.” He straightened and glanced around to make sure they were truly alone.

  “There’s no one here besides us. Do you think me that careless?” Abarrane pulled her cloak more tightly around her body. “But we must return soon or your father will begin to wonder.”

  “Of course.” Lorcan held out his arm, but she didn’t take it.

  “All the pieces are falling into place, my son.”

  He nodded, even though he couldn’t quite quell the jump in his pulse that belied the fears born of a lifetime of being ruled by his father’s bloody fists.

  “And what of Lothar?”

  Abarrane’s nose wrinkled at the mention of her second son. “He will have his part to play, just as we all do.”

  “But does he know that?”

  She was silent for a long moment. “We’d best return. Dinner will begin soon and you know how much Bain hates it when we enter a meal late.”

  His mother wound her fingers around his bicep, making it seem as though he were guiding her, when in reality her nails had dug into his skin, propelling him forward, toward the door that would take them down a long winding staircase, back into the depths of the palace.

  They walked into the dining hall side by side, but luckily no one had sat down to eat yet, so their entrance didn’t cause any undue attention.

  His mother let go of his arm to take her place beside the king. Lorcan saw Lothar standing by himself a few strides away, watching those gathered silently. He made his way to his brother’s side and nodded a hello.

  “How was the flight?”

  Lorcan successfully hid his surprise that Lothar knew he’d been gone in his hawk form and ignored the question. “Father seems to be in a celebratory mood.”

  “You know he’s always happiest right before murdering hundreds of Draíolon.”

  “Careful, Loth, or you might be accused of treason and join those hundreds.” Lorcan’s voice was mocking, but the warning was sincere.

  “You might be careful yourself, Lorc, or you might be accused of becoming just like h
im.” Lothar’s disgust left a rank smell lingering in his wake as he stormed away.

  Lorcan grabbed a goblet of mulberry wine from a passing server bearing trays of the drink and downed half of it in one long gulp. The liquid warmed his throat and belly, but not enough. Once, Lothar had looked at him with hero worship in his eyes. Once, they had been so close, they didn’t even know the meaning of the word secrets.

  That had been a long time ago.

  The bell rang to signal the start of supper, and Lorcan sighed. He finished the rest of the wine and placed the empty goblet down on a side table before sauntering over to the large dinner table.

  “My son—my heir! Here, sit at my side.” His father gestured to the seat on his left.

  “Of course, Father.” Lorcan smiled through gritted teeth and did as the king bade, all too aware of Lothar’s cold stare from farther down the table.

  When everyone had been seated, King Bain signaled for the servants to pour wine in everyone’s goblets and then he stood, holding the gleaming crystal aloft so that it flashed in the firelight.

  “Many, many years have led us to this moment. Only one obstacle remains, but not for long!”

  Lorcan’s gaze flickered to his mother. She smiled brightly up at her husband, ever the dutiful wife and supportive queen.

  “And so tonight, raise your glasses with me!”

  All the other Draíolon did as he commanded, lifting their glasses toward their king. Lorcan reached for his as well, his fingers so tight on the flute he had to consciously remind himself to relax before he snapped it in half.

  “To the ultimate victory!” King Bain roared.

  “To the ultimate victory,” Lorcan echoed darkly with everyone else’s enthusiastic cries, and then drained his entire goblet of blood-red wine.

  THEY ARRIVED AT CEREN’S FAMILY HOME JUST BEFORE sunset the next day, their progress hampered by Kel’s only partially healed leg. There were no servants or groundspeople to be seen, just as Evelayn had instructed. Only one window in the large manor glowed from the light of a fire within as the sky darkened to a bruised navy purple above them.