Gathering Darkness

by Morgan Rhodes

“I know that much. Is she still alive?”

  Melenia blinked once. “My goodness, Alexius. What is the meaning of this? You don’t think I had something to do with her disappearance, do you?”

  He summoned all the courage he could. “Yes. As a matter of fact, I do. I know you thought she was a problem, that she knew too much and was dangerously close to learning more.”

  “And for this offense you think I . . . what? Murdered her?” She smiled sweetly. “I assure you, I haven’t touched a single hair on her head.”

  “But you know what happened to her.”

  “Come and sit. We have much to discuss today. Unfortunately, it will have to wait until I finish with my other visitor.”

  “Other visitor?”

  There was a knock at the door. “Yes. Danaus desperately wanted to speak with me today.”

  Danaus, the final member of the Three, was a vastly unpleasant immortal whom Alexius habitually avoided. “Don’t let him in.”

  “Don’t be silly. Actually, I need him today.”

  With a clenched jaw, Alexius watched as Melenia practically floated across the silver floor inlaid with sparkling jewels. Her diamond-beaded gown was made from fabric that seemed spun from platinum, and her long, wavy hair shone in different shades of gold. She was the most beautiful Watcher of all.

  How Alexius had come to hate her.

  She opened the door to Danaus. “Oh,” his voice boomed. “I see you’re not alone.”

  “No.” She held the door open wider and gestured him inside. “But come in. Please, I insist.”

  Danaus might have been every bit as beautiful as any of their kind, but his eternally sour expression made him ugly to Alexius. Danaus regarded him now with clear disdain. “Alexius isn’t one of us,” he said.

  “Of course he is. Don’t be rude, Danaus. It doesn’t become you. Please say what you came here to say. It’s clear that it troubles you deeply.”

  “Very well.” He hissed out a breath of impatience. “I’ve received word from a scout that one of our exiles has been using his magic to help the mortal king build a road. I believe Xanthus was one of your most devoted minions, wasn’t he?”

  Alexius nearly flinched at the name of Phaedra’s brother, gone from the Sanctuary for twenty years. He’d once been Melenia’s lover, and her most favored and gifted protégé. She’d coached him in ways unlike she had anyone else in the Sanctuary, which had caused everyone, Alexius included, to suspect and envy him.

  Now he knew better than to envy anyone this immortal singled out. Now he pitied those she hand-selected. Including himself.

  “The pretty spider in her silvery web, spinning tales to wind around us all.”

  It was a warning from Phaedra that he’d ignored. She had been smarter than anyone had suspected.

  Melenia nodded. “I remember Xanthus very well.”

  Danaus pursed his lips, clearly annoyed that this news did not incense her. “I believe someone here in the Sanctuary is visiting him in his dreams, guiding his actions.”

  Her brows arched. “Really. Who?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  Despite Danaus’s ancient age and vast wealth of knowledge, he really was deeply stupid. But perhaps Alexius was dismissing him too soon. Like Timotheus, he was an elder. If only Alexius could find a way to meet with them privately, to tell them what Melenia planned behind their backs, that would be two against one . . .

  The rebellious thought caused a sudden, intense pain to blossom in the center of his chest. Unlike the vague pang of guilt or regret, this was a literal pain, brought on by the obedience spell Melenia had placed on him to ensure his loyalty. He’d been fighting it for weeks now, but had recently found that it was unbreakable. He groaned audibly, relenting to it.

  “Everything all right with you, boy?” Danaus asked, eyeing him warily.

  “Of course,” he replied, steeling himself until the pain began to fade.

  “Ignore him, Danaus, and let me tell you exactly who is guiding Xanthus,” Melenia said, her voice calm and even. “I’m already well aware of what’s been going on, and I know who accesses his dreams.”

  His expression filled with wonder. “Who?”

  “Me.” She smiled. A hint of wickedness flashed in her sapphire-blue eyes.

  Alexius was beyond shocked. Why would Melenia share such a valuable secret with the immortal she’d professed to trust the least?

  “What?” Danaus stepped forward, leaving little space between himself and Melenia. “That’s impossible. We elders can’t dreamwalk.”

  “You can’t. But I can,” she said. “I visit the dreams of both Xanthus and the mortal King Gaius. They are both part of my carefully crafted plan. The king wants the Kindred for himself, so much that he’s willing to do anything, say anything, be anything to get them in his greedy hands. And it’s because of this greed that, out of anyone I’ve ever come across, he’s been the easiest to manipulate. Even now, he eagerly awaits my next instructions in another dream.”

  Danaus’s eyes flashed with envy. “How is such a thing possible? You must tell me. To escape this place if only through someone else’s mind . . . I crave it.”

  Of course Danaus would jump on any opportunity, no matter how immoral, that might benefit him. He didn’t even seem to care that Melenia had been keeping this secret from him until now.

  “You really want to know?” she asked coyly.

  “Yes. You must show me!”

  A warning rose up inside Alexius and his throat tightened. He wanted to speak, but he couldn’t.

  “All right.” Melenia took Danaus’s face in her hands. “Look deeply into my eyes.”

  Don’t. Don’t do what she asks.

  But Danaus’s lust for this skill transformed the justice-seeker who’d entered the room into someone just as blind and greedy as King Gaius.

  “I’m surprised you never figured this out on your own,” Melenia said. “Then again, it was only an accident that I discovered it for myself.”

  “Discovered what?” Danaus demanded.

  “That Watchers are capable of pulling magic from each other to become more powerful. Power that lets us do all sorts of interesting things—including dreamwalking.”

  Alexius’s heart began to thud, but the tearing pain in his chest kept him still and silent.

  Danaus’s eyes lit up. “Show me how.”

  “If you insist.”

  Melenia locked into his gaze, and her hands began to glow.

  “I feel it,” Danaus whispered. “I feel the power leaving me and entering you. Incredible. All this time . . . how could I not have known?”

  “There is a catch, of course. There’s always a catch. If one takes more than just a taste, a mark is left upon the donor.”

  Danaus winced. Alexius could see that he was beginning to feel the pain as his magic flowed into Melenia, weakening him and strengthening her. “Enough. Stop.”

  “But, you see, that’s impossible. I’ve already taken too much,” she whispered loud enough for Alexius to hear. “I don’t want to leave you to suffer and fade. I am doing you a favor today, my friend.”

  Alexius’s fingers dug into the soft padding of his chair as he watched Danaus begin to glow, his face convulsing.

  “Stop!” Danaus cried, the pain most likely excruciating. “Please, stop!”

  “I’m grateful for your sacrifice, Danaus. The magic I’ve stolen from other immortals is meager—but you, an elder, an original like me—you have so much more to give. I’ll use this magic well when I’m finally free from this prison.”

  He screamed as his body was swallowed up by blue-white flames, and, finally, Melena stepped back from him, watching as he disappeared in a flash of light that turned Alexius’s vision stark white.

  Danaus had existed for millennia, and here he was gone—forever
—in mere moments.

  “That was incredibly satisfying,” Melenia said, sliding her hands through her shimmering hair.

  This wasn’t right. Melenia had to feel at least a sliver of remorse, and if she didn’t, she was even more of a monster than Alexius suspected.

  It wasn’t too late. Alexius would find a way to get to Timotheus and tell him what had happened here. He and Melenia were the only original elders left.

  She had to be stopped.

  Pain wrenched through him at the thought.

  “Now, where were we?” She fixed her gaze upon him as he sat stiffly on her chaise. “Ah, yes. Phaedra. You believe I murdered her because she knew too much?”

  Her eyes blazed so brightly that he thought they might overflow in a sea of sapphire power.

  She was more dangerous than he’d ever seen her, and he couldn’t help feeling fear.

  He bowed his head. “Apologies, my queen, I never should have suggested such a thing.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have.” She sat next to him, so close he could feel the crackle of the magic that now coated her golden skin. “Show me what we worked on the other day.”

  For the briefest of moments, he hesitated. But the pain rose up again, forcing him to obey. He loosened the ties of his shirt and bared his chest to her. The golden swirl over his heart had dimmed since she’d begun to consume his magic, just as she’d done with Danaus, but less severely. She took a small taste every day, just enough to keep him from visiting Lucia in her dreams or watching over her in the mortal world in hawk form.

  He, too, was now a prisoner here, in every way.

  “I know I’ve been harsh with you,” she said softly. “But I have no other choice. I can’t risk anything going wrong.”

  “And nothing will, my queen.”

  He could only blame himself for the position he found himself in. He’d wholeheartedly agreed to collaborate with her, thinking that he could help save his world—help save all worlds. He’d understood from the beginning that certain sacrifices would have to be made for the greater good, but his intentions had always been pure.

  He hadn’t known the whole truth then.

  Melenia inspected the symbols she’d carved on his chest with a golden blade infused with her magic. As she traced the wounds with her fingertip, she infused even more of her obedience spell into his very being. The four designs—the symbols for each element—were so simple, yet so powerful, especially when etched so deeply into the flesh of an immortal.

  And even when the scars finally faded from sight completely, they would still control him.

  She would control him.

  “Do you think you’re ready?” she asked.

  The words bubbled up and escaped before he could stop them. “I exist only to serve you, my queen.”

  She slid her hands up his chest and throat, then over his cheeks. She held his face between her hands, as she had with Danaus. He had no choice but to meet her gaze, unsure whether she would let him live or kill him now and be done with it.

  No, she wouldn’t do that. She’d spent far too long preparing him for what was to come. She needed him.

  “You will carry out my orders without hesitation. I shall give you a gift in return for all you’ve done and will do for me, my beautiful boy. Do you understand and agree to this?”

  He could feel her scrutinizing him for signs of dissent. If he flinched, she would strengthen her spell even more. More pain, more torture. He would lose that much more of himself. Already the need to obey her was a snake wrapped around his throat, squeezing until he could barely breathe.

  He held on to an image of a beautiful girl with raven-colored hair and sky-blue eyes, the girl he’d once pledged to protect with his very life. He believed in her. She would give him the strength to survive this.

  “Yes, my queen. I understand completely.”

  CHAPTER 8

  NIC

  AURANOS

  Cleaning up after King Gaius’s vicious wolfhounds was not the duty of a palace guard. But it was Nic’s duty. He didn’t think it was a coincidence.

  A nasty pair of guards named Burrus and Milo laughed as one of the leashed dogs dragged Nic, quite literally, toward the stables in her search for the best place to relieve herself.

  “Having fun?” Burrus asked.

  “So much fun,” Nic replied without hesitation.

  “Be thankful this is the worst the king’s asked of you this week. He seems to be in a foul mood.”

  Was the king ever in a good mood? One that wasn’t just for show?

  “Don’t worry, though,” Milo said with a sneer. “I’m sure he’s nearly done with you. Looking after his mutts will seem like a luxury compared to what your future holds.”

  “Auranians,” Burrus mumbled. “Good for nothing.”

  “Except wiping the arses of the king’s hounds.”

  They both burst into gales of laughter over their own incredible wits.

  Ignoring his fellow guards had become easier in the weeks since Nic had been promoted from stable boy to palace guard (although promoted was arguable given his current duties). It didn’t take long for Nic to decide that, though he shared living, sleeping, and eating space with the other guards, he had no desire to become their friend.

  He’d only gotten into one fight this week, which had earned him a black eye from Burrus that had yet to fade completely.

  Limerians. He spat to the side.

  He hated every last one of them.

  He usually tried to be quick with a quip or a joke or a story, anything to distract the enemies that wore the same uniform as he.

  He’d come to despise the color red.

  Milo and Burrus finally wandered off. “You done?” he said to the wolfhound. She looked over her shoulder and growled at him, baring the same sharp teeth that had torn apart a fat rabbit mere minutes earlier. “No, no, that’s fine. Go at your leisure, madam. I have all the time in the world.”

  She squatted. He waited.

  So this was it. This was how he would survive in this new age of the conquered Auranos.

  Why am I still here?

  “Shouldn’t be,” he answered himself.

  His family was dead. His sister, Mira, had been murdered by the king himself for allegedly eavesdropping on his conversation with the loathsome Prince Magnus.

  He’d failed Mira. He should have been there to protect her, but he wasn’t. The thought tortured him day and night. He wanted vengeance, but instead he took orders. He was a coward trying to survive, lost in a sea of his enemies.

  With a heavy heart, Nic turned to guide the hounds back toward the castle and felt his left boot sink into a pile of dung.

  “Fantastic.” His voice trembled as the last of his strength left him and he felt on the verge of tears.

  Why did he stay here? Why didn’t he slip out of the gates, get on a ship, and sail away across the sea to start a new life somewhere far away from here?

  He was a palace guard, not the palace jester. Perhaps he should start acting like it.

  • • •

  Nic couldn’t leave without saying farewell to Cleo. It would be the first time he’d spoken to her since he’d stormed off after she’d rejected both his romantic intentions and his offer to take her away from this horrible place full of ghosts. That had only been two weeks ago, but it felt as if a year had passed.

  She likely hadn’t realized it, but Nic had been keeping an eye on her from afar in recent days. Even though she despised him now, he’d still promised to keep her safe.

  And how is leaving her behind keeping her safe? he asked himself.

  She didn’t need his help anymore. Maybe the idea that she ever had needed him had only been an illusion he’d cast forth himself to make him feel worthy.

  He found the princess in the courtyard, readi
ng, on a shady bench beneath a large oak tree. The princess was always in the courtyard reading—a behavior so different from the Cleo he’d grown up with, the one who only touched a book when her tutors insisted. And sometimes, not even then.

  Today’s book featured a hawk on the cover, dark bronze against the pale tan leather, and appeared to be about the legends surrounding the immortal Watchers and their mystical Sanctuary. Piled next to her were more books, including a sketchbook he’d occasionally seen her draw in to help pass the time. Art was one class Cleo had seemed to enjoy.

  “Cleo,” he said softly.

  She looked up at him, shielding her eyes from the bright sun. “Nic!”

  “Apologies for disturbing you, but I wanted to come here and—”

  She leapt to her feet and threw herself into his arms. “Oh, Nic! I’ve missed you so much! Please, don’t be angry with me. I’m sorry I was so cruel to you. I didn’t mean it.”

  A thick knot swiftly formed in his throat and his eyes began to sting. Then a smile took hold of his face and the heaviness that had been seated upon his heart shifted to the side just a little.

  She took his face between her hands, staring at him with a worried expression. “You hate me,” she said.

  “What? Of course I don’t hate you, Cleo. I thought that you . . . well, I thought you hated me.”

  She gasped. “That’s ridiculous. I could never hate you, Nic. Never!”

  He felt as close to joyful as he had in recent memory. The message of farewell he’d come to deliver died on his tongue. “I need to ask your forgiveness for what I said to you.”

  She shook her head. “No forgiveness is necessary. Please, sit with me for a while.”

  “I don’t think I can.” He glanced toward the other guards standing against the far wall. Between them, in the center of the courtyard, was a beautiful garden of flowers and fruit trees, but the guard’s view of the princess was clear enough.

  “Forget them. They won’t bother us. And they can’t hear us speaking from all the way over there.”

  She took his hand in hers. He sat next to her on the bench and looked down at her amethyst ring.

  “Have you learned more about your ring?” he whispered.