The Shadows

by Cheyenne McCray

  Hannah’s mind buzzed as the odors of burnt sugar and wolfsbane faded—smells that had accompanied the vision. Silver had just used her cauldron to learn what was happening with Ceithlenn and Balor.

  As they sometimes did when Silver scried, images had risen from the mist, playing out different scenes that this time had left them virtually speechless.

  Banshee lightly gripped Hannah’s shoulder with his talons, his presence somehow making the vision even more real.

  Darkwolf taking the eye for his own.

  Ceithlenn’s and Balor’s reunion.

  Darkwolf’s attack.

  A battle between Darkwolf, Ceithlenn, and Balor.

  Balor’s death. Balor’s death.

  Can Balor really be gone?

  Silver appeared dazed as she stroked the side of her cauldron with her fingertips as the last of the fog vanished. Her python familiar, Polaris, was curled around the cauldron. “I—wow.”

  “I can’t believe it.” Mackenzie stared at the cauldron from where she stood, her ferret, Merlin, in her arms. “That just couldn’t have been real.”

  Rhiannon rocked back on her heels and scowled. “No way. It can’t have been that easy.”

  “It happened last night, while Garran’s men were here.” Cassia’s voice held conviction and relief as she spoke, her beautiful features looking absolutely certain. “This isn’t something that’s going to happen in the future. It’s done. Balor is gone.”

  “How do you know?” Hannah couldn’t help the note of skepticism in her voice despite the rising hope that it was true.

  Hannah felt as though the floor were tilting beneath her feet, as if she might slide across the bare concrete. “Silver often scries things that haven’t happened yet, even some things that can be changed with intervention.”

  “Cassia’s right.” Silver looked at the half-Elvin witch before meeting Hannah’s eyes. “My magic tells me that Ceithlenn took what power Balor had left and Darkwolf killed him the moment he was unprotected.”

  “So now Ceithlenn has not only her power, but some of Balor’s.” Sydney removed her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose as her Doberman, Chaos, nuzzled her arm. “She could be even harder to beat now.”

  “What about Darkwolf?” Mackenzie clasped the back of the chair in front of her as Merlin scrambled up to her shoulder. “Jeez, can you believe he took the power of the eye for himself?”

  “And the eye is now inside of him?” Sydney’s look of both amazement and disbelief echoed Hannah’s own feelings. “I can’t quite get that thought to gel.”

  “What does he intend to do with that power?” Copper tugged at her braid and frowned while her honeybee familiar buzzed by her ear. “Will we have to fight this new supergod Darkwolf along with Ceithlenn?”

  “Since he betrayed her and Balor to begin with, I don’t think he’s going to join forces with her, at least.” Silver let her fingers slip away from the side of the cauldron down to stroke Polaris. “And what he did—kill Balor—that’s pretty much a dead giveaway.”

  Sydney slid her glasses back on. “What Darkwolf plans to do with his new powers, though, that’s a mystery.”

  “Knowing him the way we do”—Copper sighed and released her braid—“he’s not going to just kick back and retire, especially now.”

  “Dear Anu.” Hannah looked to the ceiling before returning her gaze to her sister witches. “Unbelievable. That bastard now has a god’s power.”

  “Obviously we need to be on guard for both Ceithlenn and Darkwolf now,” Cassia said, and all of the witches turned their attention to her. The fiery look on the normally calm witch’s expression made Hannah blink in surprise. “Whatever his intentions are,” Cassia continued, “we need to be prepared.”

  Alyssa’s owl, Echo, took to the rafters and gave a haunting hoot.

  Kael, Cassia’s wolf, howled, and a shiver trailed Hannah’s spine.

  Two days later, sandwiched between two Drow Guards, Hannah wandered through the underground village of the Dark Elves. It was nearly impossible to get used to the bluish-gray-skinned women with collars around their necks.

  Hannah sucked in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. It wasn’t right. Yet bondage was a big thing in some circles back in her own world.

  To each his own.

  But she was so never going there. Not that she’d ever personally have to worry about it.

  Sounds of loud voices, a child’s wailing, and an anvil striking metal rang in Hannah’s ears. Garran was meeting with his Directorate and his Steward. It had irritated her when he’d dismissed her and handed her over to a couple of his guards to escort her through the city. Although, she had also had the option of being taken to his room.

  The image of him joining her there sent warmth throughout her.

  She shook her head. Sex with Garran was frying her brain. But the thought of a good nap was tempting.

  Smells of roast chicken, fresh baked bread, and mead made her stomach growl as she passed a tavern.

  She glanced down at the pendant Garran had pinned to her T-shirt before he’d sent her on her way. Intricately fashioned white gold embraced one of the largest, finest diamonds she’d ever seen. The diamond had to be worth at least half a million.

  He’d told her as long as she wore the pendant she could go anywhere and wouldn’t have to pay for anything she wanted.

  Around her upper arm, as always, was her moon and crescent armband, and she brought her fingers to it and touched the warm gold.

  She paused in front of the tavern and watched both male and female Dark Elves leave and go into the establishment. Every time one of the Drow noticed her they bowed with what seemed like reverence before continuing on their way. It didn’t take her long to realize it was because of the pendant Garran had given her. Must have identified her as a guest.

  Hunger won out over the desire to take a nap and she headed toward the tavern doors. Before she had a chance to push them open, her guards moved in front of her and held them so that she could walk through. Both men were overly respectful as far as she was concerned. They wouldn’t even talk with her.

  Near darkness caused her to blink until her eyes adjusted to the dimness. Conversation quieted as she entered the room and she felt the stares of everyone in the tavern.

  With her chin high, she went to an empty table. Benches lined each side of the tables, which looked a lot like the ones in the D’Danann village taverns, only these were made of granite. She slid onto one of the benches, the polished stone smooth and cool through her snug jeans.

  Conversations around her slowly resumed with whispers before they rolled back into a low rumble. The bits and pieces of the whispers were what had her straightening her back and making her spine tingle.

  “Who is...?”

  “...to a human?”

  “...here before.”

  “The king’s consort.”

  The last one made her ears burn. She brought her hand to the pendant, grasped it, and almost tore the diamond off her T-shirt. Instead she took another deep breath and let her hand drop away.

  King’s consort, my ass.

  Hannah glanced over her shoulder at one guard and then over her other shoulder at the next. “Sit,” she demanded.

  Surprise flashed in both men’s eyes, but they did an admirable job of holding it back.

  She hardened her voice into a tone that had gotten her just about everywhere in the corporate world. She pointed to the bench on the opposite side of the table and commanded, “Now.”

  The men looked at each other and then both said, “Yes, my lady,” as they obeyed.

  My lady?

  When they were seated, she studied first one Drow then the other, almost smiling at the obvious discomfort of the two huge men.

  Like most Drow warriors, they wore leather straps crisscrossing their broad chests that anchored metal breastplates. With their identical builds, matching silver hair, blue-diamond eyes, and light blue skin, it didn’t take a wizard
to guess the men had to be twins.

  “Let’s eat.” She looked from one man to the other. “What do you recommend?”

  One of the men cleared his throat. “My lady, we are to guard you only.”

  “I say you’re to eat with me.” She glanced at the table as if a menu might appear then returned her gaze to theirs. “So, what’s good here?”

  “The pork is exceptional, my lady,” said Twin Number One.

  “Great.” She folded her hands on the tabletop. “That’s what I’ll have, along with some bread and that soft white cheese they served at dinner last time I was here, and a mug of mead. Also grapes. Those were the best I’ve ever had.”

  “Yes, my lady.” Twin Number Two signaled to a beautiful woman carrying a tray loaded with trenchers of food. She’d just appeared from a door in the back.

  The woman gave the man a nod of acknowledgment, but when she caught sight of Hannah and the diamond pendant, her cheeks turned a deeper shade of blue and she fumbled a bit with the tray.

  Hannah tried to keep her face expressionless although she really wanted to shout, “What the hell is going on around here?”

  She studied the woman as she hurried to unload her tray, placing the trenchers in front of a group of warriors so quickly that some of the juices from the curved plates splashed onto the table.

  The Drow woman must have broken a record for fastest meal served before she rushed to the table where Hannah and her guards sat. The woman was one of the few females Hannah had seen in the Drow realm who was not dressed in something extremely skimpy. She wore a simple sheath-style dress and, to Hannah’s surprise, no collar.

  “Irka,” Twin Number One addressed the woman when she reached them, then told her Hannah’s order.

  “I said you’re both to eat, too,” Hannah told her guards before Irka could leave.

  Both men shifted in their seats but caved when she gave them her best “Don’t screw with me” stare. They ordered the same thing Hannah had.

  Irka bowed. “Right away, my lady.”

  Hannah looked at the twins. “What are your names?”

  “I am Anant. My brother is Richtor,” the twin on the left said.

  “Okay, Anant and Richtor.” She met their gazes head-on. “What’s with the ‘my lady’ business and how everyone acts around me?”

  This time both men did show their surprise. “You are the king’s consort. His mate,” Anant said. “Of course our people would treat you with reverence and respect.”

  His mate? Hannah put her hands in her lap and clenched them into fists before forcing herself to release them. Ten. Count to ten. Cool. Calm. Collected.

  Ten...nine...eight...

  She was fairly certain she was managing to keep her expression neutral. “And you came to this conclusion how?”

  “You wear the Brooch of Aithne.” Richtor glanced at his brother before meeting Hannah’s gaze. “It signifies you will soon be our queen.”

  Hannah barely kept her jaw from dropping.

  She bit her tongue, trying her best not to correct them. Denying it here, in front of his guards and all of these people, would be an insult to Garran, and no matter how much she wanted to scream at him right now, she wouldn’t make him look bad in front of his subjects.

  No doubt he’d given her the pendant to wear while she was here as a way of protecting her and saying she was off-limits. Not to signify anything so arrogant, conceited, and presumptuous as her being his mate.

  The coppery taste of blood made her realize she’d been biting her tongue too hard. She forced herself to count backward from ten and to take another deep breath.

  Before she had to give any kind of response, Irka arrived with their meal. The woman’s hands shook as she placed a beautiful silver plate and a matching mug containing mead in front of Hannah before she set wooden trenchers and metal tankards in front of the men. At the center of the table Irka carefully arranged a large silver tray filled with delicacies like those that had been at the banquet Hannah had attended the first time she came to the Drow realm.

  “I hope this pleases you, my lady.” Irka’s voice had the slightest tremor to it.

  Hannah cleared her throat. “Thank you, Irka.”

  The woman’s eyes widened as if surprised that Hannah knew her name. She lowered her gaze and gave a deep bow. “It is my pleasure, my lady.”

  Irka hurried from the table as Hannah watched.

  She was so going to kill Garran.

  Then it was as if an ice-cold wave slammed into her.

  He was going to kill himself.

  After the sentencing of Vidar with the Directorate, Garran sat in his throne, more than likely for a final time.

  The last thing he had expected to feel was guilt and regret when he died. Not that he had given death much thought.

  Yet anger seared his skull like a hot brand, too. Anger that he must leave this world in order to do his duty as king, when as a man, he was finally again fulfilled—by having his daughter in his life.

  And Hannah.

  Gods above, but he could not name this need to be with her always.

  Love?

  Garran rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

  He had been in love only once before, with Rhiannon’s mother, a gentle, special love that he would always treasure.

  With Hannah this feeling was intense, fiery, filling him with strength by simply being with her. All along he had felt as if they had a soul connection, and now he knew it to be true, with everything he had.

  All that he had come to know of her only solidified what he felt. What they had shared with each other about their prior lives. What he had witnessed of her spirit—her desire to fight for her people and her world, and the sacrifices she was willing to make. The depths of her soul and the young girl inside her, still hurting and needing to be loved. Everything about her drew him, attracted him, made him want...

  And love her.

  Garran wiped his hand down his face and shifted on the throne.

  By the gods.

  “You summoned us, my king?” Carden’s voice interrupted his thoughts and Garran looked at his First and at Hark who had entered with Carden.

  Carden’s hands were behind his back, his stance wide, and his chin raised as he met Garran’s gaze. Hark stood to the side with clear disapproval in his eyes.

  Garran studied Carden. “I have much to teach you and little time.”

  “This is unacceptable, Your Highness.” Hark moved closer, no longer serene but keeping his voice calm. “You cannot risk your life. You cannot leave your people with no king.”

  It was more than a risk, it was a near certainty that he would die. Garran leaned forward in his chair. “Carden will be king when I pass on to Summerland. You will guide him and support him as your leader.”

  “If I may, Your Highness.” Carden’s jaw tightened. “As your First, and with great respect, I insist you stay and let your warriors battle for you.”

  Garran gripped the armrests of his chair and nearly growled at his two highest leaders. “Must I constantly repeat myself? My word is law.”

  Carden and Hark both appeared tense and angry, but said nothing.

  “Your training, Carden.” Garran shifted and pressed a hidden catch on the thick armrest of his chair.

  The padded granite top of the armrest rose as silently as a Drow slipping beneath the night sky. Both Carden and Hark looked on with surprise on their features.

  From inside the hidden compartment, Garran drew out a small diamond orb. More regret tugged at his heart as he wrapped his hand around the warm, faceted diamond. He raised his arm and uncurled his fingers. The orb immediately rose an inch above his palm and slowly rotated. Emerald, ruby, and amethyst shades glittered within the diamond.

  “What is it, my king?” Carden asked in a hoarse voice.

  “This was given to me by my father before he passed on to Summerland.” Three millennia ago. “Other than myself, only my brother, Naal
, knew of its existence.”

  The familiar pain of his brother’s recent death sliced through Garran’s belly like a dagger. In his arrogance, Garran had thought only Naal needed to know of the orb.

  “The Orb of Aithne is cut from the same diamond as the brooch,” Garran continued, “but the orb is imbued with Drow powers that will answer many of your questions when asked of it.”

  A sense of loss made his stomach roil as he extended his hand to Carden. “Take it.”

  After hesitating a moment, Carden took the orb. Fascination sparked in his gaze as he opened his hand and the orb rose to turn slowly above his palm.

  Garran gave an inward sigh of relief. “My father was clear in that the orb would only serve a suitable replacement for the king. I had yet to test Vidar.” Perhaps because something had held him back. A subconscious feeling that he had not acknowledged.

  “I have not needed its knowledge for centuries,” Garran said. “It is time for it to go to its new master. Keep it with you always and it will slowly impart its wisdom upon you until you have absorbed all that it has to share.”

  Carden looked from the orb to Garran. “I cannot—”

  “You will.” Garran pushed himself out of his chair so that he was standing eye to eye with Carden. “No further conversation about the subject of my leaving is to be raised, with the exception of your training.”

  Garran had the sudden desire to lash out at someone, to smash his fist into something. Godsdamn but he had been a fool. He had barely had time to mourn Naal’s death, but for the gods’ sakes, it had been his responsibility to see to this.

  “Sit.” He gestured to the strategy table, and after only a moment’s pause, Hark and Carden obeyed, each seating themselves to either side of the chair at the head of the table. Carden slipped the orb into a pouch on his weapons belt.

  Garran settled into his chair. He folded his arms on the table and began instructing Carden on what he must do if he should step up as King of the Dark Elves.

  Seemingly accepting Garran’s decision, finally, Hark interjected his wisdom at times and Garran was thankful as he wished to miss nothing. The orb would only do so much for Carden.