“And what makes you think you can?” The black-eyed one hisses.
This fight will be too dangerous. I don’t know what power Liriene has— I don’t know what she is. And I can’t trust this cave to prove an even playing field. I hate the caged-in feeling. I won’t endanger the other survivors down here.
“I demand your King grant us both an audience,” I growl.
Liriene shoots me a glare sharp as knives.
“You are in no position to be making demands,” Varic sneers, his red eyes inflaming.
Liriene whispers to me. “Do not—”
“We are the daughters of Resayla Avalon. Daughter of Adon, King of Ro’Hale.”
Liriene bites back her words, hiding her fangs once more.
Does she even know she has them?
Varic looks back to one of his men, who nods.
“Bind them both.”
Liriene’s eyes urge me not to struggle or fight back as they lock manacles around our wrists and chain our ankles. They shuffle us out of the cave. The smell of fresh air seeps into the cave as we approach the gaping exit and the daylight beyond. Night has passed and we are in a new day— a new world.
In this world there is no one I know but my sister, and I don’t even fully understand what she is. I watch her as she walks ahead, shoulders shoved by the angry yet tentative hands of Men. They fear her. I sense it in their blood. The telltale stench of prey. I wonder if she senses it too. I wonder if she knows what she is. What have the Gods created?
They lead us through corrals meant to keep people in. Elves. My people. Molten rage surges through me as I look around. I can see the palace northward and the Sunderlands Forest to the south; a long stretch of mighty trees with impenetrable shadow beyond their boughs. A magic-brimmed woodland filled with horrors and wonders. Home. Lost.
The trees have lost their leaves— bared for the bone chilling winter to come. No clans to light their fires within. Except Massara if it still stands. One thought pushes a weight of despair from my shoulders: Darius is beyond the Baore’s reach. Heading to the Gryphon King among the Heralds of War, to safety. He may not be able to save us — we are beyond saving, in Man’s domain. At least Osira’s prediction saved him. I’m sure if he had followed me home, he would have died.
I stare from this side of the tall fence that hums with energy. Magic wards— not to keep others out but to keep us in. I look to the palace; its fine stone walls that reach heavenward. Flying buttresses and towers. I wonder if Berlium thinks himself a God to reach so high with his castle. To erect pillars and build walls, to build a staircase into heaven as if he belongs there. Dulin is a mighty fortress, sewn into the rim of the mountain range that wraps around the backside of the Province. Dale is East, a twin in glory.
There are Elves everywhere. Armored human guards whip them and drive them to labor. They’re building walls and monuments. I keep my eyes on my sister and the guards harassing her, but can’t help getting distracted by the massive statues of bears and stone houses. The most exquisite temple made similarly to the Temple of Mrithyn. Not a cathedral and spire, but a black stone house, sparkling like the night sky. Pillars spanned by arches surround the square-shaped house of worship.
A guard shoves me from behind and I lose my footing. I sprawl out on the gravely ground, and my bound hands do little to break the fall as I scrape my cheek. My teeth are singing in my head as two guards hoist me up.
“He said unharmed!” One snaps.
I shake the pain from my head and try to move closer to Liriene. She walks peacefully, but her steps are heavy. As if she were bearing a tree on her back. I try to get near enough to whisper to her, but she ignores me.
The guards nudge us, keeping us from slowing or getting too close to each other. I follow her gaze to a large, elevated stone table in the center of the yard. Elves keep a healthy distance from it as they tow rocks and pickaxes. No one dares approach it, even the guards. It’s as if a magical repelling shield of energy surrounds the stone platform, and those who near it bounce away in quickened steps.
The guards shout orders to comrades on the other side of the pen, and the gates swing open. The magic buzzing in the fence zings louder and louder as a path is cleared for us through the gates. We file out, following their silver helmets. Those outside the yard eye us with suspicion. They stare at Liriene, barely noticing me.
She’s a phoenix, aflame amid Men. The shade of her hair is wilder, more vivid. Her eyes are melted stars, gray as ash revived by fire. Red smolders around the rims of her gray irises. Her skin is radiant, glowing with an aureate sheen. Her body is light and heavy at once— her sleek frame moves with grace, but her presence is intrusive. The sunlight filling the sky seems to focus on her, gilding her in gold.
The men stare, their eyes alight with a mix of desire and fear. I simply watch, forgotten in her shadow. I can’t help but watch her either. She is a rising sun and I the paling moon.
The Palace swallows us whole.
The Ro’Hale Palace is diminished by the majesty of Dale. King Berlium and his forefathers have outdone the us. Theirs is a realm of such grit and steel, power and fortitude, it’s no wonder they’re a threat to all. Seeing where the human terrorists come from— the stone cloud from which they rain… I can only imagine the Man behind the army.
The guards lead us through a pair of heavy stone doors that grate against the stone floor, sparks flying from beneath them as they open. We enter the throne room. A mausoleum dressed in scarlet robes. Drapes the colors of wine and blood fall heavily from the rafters, tapered to the walls’ curves and corners. The insignia of the bear sits on each, roaring proudly in silver thread. The room is longer than it is wide and ends in a wall of latticed windows. The daffodil-yellow light of morning saturates the room. The gray stone is cold beneath my feet as we’re ushered closer and closer to the throne. I smell nothing natural in here. The heavy fabric is no doubt laden with dust. Not a plant or animal present. Only a Man.
He is the storm-bringer. The Man upon the throne locks eyes with Liriene and then with me. His stare is unnerving because it is dark, cold, and stunning. Black hair and stormy-ocean blue eyes. A wide, strong jaw and prominent cheekbones. His thick brows set close to those brooding, almond-shaped eyes, and his full mouth curves into a smile at our approach.
His fingers play at his sensuous lips, and he bows his head toward us, letting a wisp of raven hair fall out of place across his brow. He stands, boasting an immense stature. Tall, broad-shouldered, and thickly muscled. As he prowls toward us, a tempestuous ocean roils in his eyes.
His hand caresses the dark scruff at his jaw until he crosses his arms over his rich, burgundy tunic. Black trousers dress his long, strong legs, ending under the cuff of black leather boots. A belt dotted with rubies hangs from his hips and bears a rapier with a black and silver hilt.
Still silent, he approaches Liriene. She doesn’t move or breathe as his hand reaches her face. The touch is gentle, appreciative of her beauty. She meets the watery depths of his stare with an ashen glare. His fingers linger at her jaw before wandering to her crimson tresses. He wraps a lock around his finger — and then he smells her. Teeth bared, eyes closed, hand wrapped around her slender throat.
I move toward them, but a guard stops me.
He moves her face this way and that, sniffing at her carotids. His tongue flicks out and grazes her porcelain skin, but she doesn’t flinch. When he releases her, she doesn’t shrink from him. She doesn’t push him away. She stares into his eyes, a brilliant heat blossoming on her cheeks.
I watch them, the beast rattling my chest bones like cell bars.
And then his attention is on me. As if he heard the Death Spirit growling, he whips his head toward me. His composure cracks, an odd emotion sailing across his eyes. He looks to me, then back to Liriene, who watches his every movement.
In three long steps he is at my throat. His hands nest in my hair. He pulls my head back and breathes against my pulse. I don’t know
what he’s trying to discover, but I assume he finds it. King Berlium releases me and his eyes widen, the tide of what seems like joy swelling within them.
King Berlium’s hands tangle in my hair again and pull my face to his. I barely have time to react — he crushes my body against his, sending shockwaves of fear into my core, and claims my mouth with his own. The kiss is possessive, passionate, and unreserved. As if he’s kissed me a thousand times in his life. He sighs against my breath with something akin to relief. His hands move against my body, wandering over my curves and edges as he deepens the kiss.
Powerless, I can’t pull away, I can’t push him back. His body is hard against my own as he assaults me with shameless lust. Gods know why, but my body reacts without hesitation, without a need for explanation. The only need I have is for him, his body.
In the back of my throat I taste magic. It’s burning my throat like a strong liquor, but his mouth is sweet.
“Enough,” Liriene speaks.
My body revolts, shoving him off and he’s taken aback.
His wild eyes swirl with a lust that washes away in a wave of rage.
“Who are you?” He’s in Liriene’s face in a flash of movement.
My mind and body are reeling from the effects of his seduction — unnerving magic. His desire reached through him into me and made me believe it belonged there. His lust is lethal, his affection is brutal. I push my hair back off my face, racking my brain for confidence and understanding of what just happened to me. Only a name comes to mind: Herrona.
I don’t hear her respond, but she must have because he roars at Liriene.
Liriene stands before him, a girl smiling at the gnashing teeth of a black wolf.
Elegant and beguiling as a deer stilled in the forest.
Listening, watching the stillness for a glimmering hint of its predator’s next move.
Her skin is white as death, robbed of her former blush.
Her hair is the color of fall.
A white hart in an autumnal wood.
The black wolf hunts the white hart! I see her prediction playing out before my eyes.
“Get away from her!” I scream.
He whirls on me, teeth bared. “Which of you possesses the Death Spirit of Mrithyn?”
I bare my teeth right back. That’s what he wants? My inner monster? Well, I’ll give him the beast and all her fury. I’ll show him exactly who I am; the power coursing through my veins. If he touches my sister, I’ll be the Goddess everyone fears. The one they whisper about in the dark.
“Tell me!” He bellows. I slide my eyes over to Liri. Her expression is brittle. My rage collides with doubt. If I tell him I’m the one he’s looking for, what will he do with her?
“What do you want?” I ask.
“If you’re the Coroner, you know what I want.” His voice rumbles in his throat.
He wants the power to stem or swell the tide of bloodshed. Power to determine the fate of the Sunderlands… to take over yet another province. He craves the power of Death, to rule the living.
Is this power enough to save me if it is enough to damn me? Am I going to make it out of here alive, and will Liriene too, if she’s of no use to him?
“If you tell me… If you surrender,” He addresses us both, “If you lay yourself at my feet, as a knight promises his sword in fealty, and offer yourself as the divine weapon that you are; I will spare the survivors of the Sunderlands.”
Liri and I exchange wide-eyed terror.
“If you deny that either of you are the White Reaper, I will kill you both.” He laughs. “If you bind yourself to me, you will gain freedom. You will gain the world.” He steps toward Liriene.
“Bow to me. Bend your will to mine.”
“And forsake our people? Liriene asks.
“If we surrender the power you seek, you will use it to destroy our people. And if we deny it, you will slay us,” I say.
“Your spirit for their lives, or your blood and their demise,” He growls back.
When I was a child, I died. The God of Death spared my life on one condition: that I kill for Him. That I let the Death Spirit consume me. Possess me wholly. A second chance culminated in this moment. Do I succumb to the King of the Baore, and sacrifice myself to spare my kin? Or do I defy him and accept Death? Escape it all to oblivion?
Free from this cursed power, this life stalked by Death. Free from the body that houses horror. From the Monster. I look into the oceanic eyes of King Berlium, and I see another monster in there too.
No.
In his eyes, I see my reflection and I realize Liriene was right. We all have light and dark in us. Darius saw something in me; something more than wickedness or danger. The longer I stare into King Berlium’s eyes, I see something in myself I never saw before. I see the truth of what I am… my purpose. I feel it blooming into life within me, like the swelling and beating heart-blossoms of that blessed tree in the Temple of Mrithyn. My heartbeat strengthens, pounding its familiar battle hymn.
The King is asking for my demon to come out and play. He’s tempting me. Testing a God’s power. He’s begging me to dwell in his darkness. To give in to his own power and lay myself under the heavy hand he’s holding over my people in their stead.
He thinks his brute force is stronger than my beast?
His lust for power dares to rival my thirst for blood?
He believes his demon is meaner, and his bones are colder than mine?
I laugh in his face. I’ve made my choice.
We all have our inner monsters, but mine is the hungriest of all.
EPILOGUE
Silas
“I lost her.”
Indiro tells me to be patient. He promises we will find them. I ignore his promises and sink into memory.
We watched her fall, and then her sister. Neither of us could have moved faster or more desperately. I killed whoever barred the way, but I wasn’t enough.
I felt the way Keres must have on those hunts in the dead of night. One person facing down an army, trying to do right by the ones she loved. I felt Death and Chaos on that battlefield. I ignored the reaching hands of my fallen kinsmen, begging me to kneel beside them in their dying moments. She was the only one I saw, and hers was the only scream I heard. My efforts to reach her were not good enough. The battle was over; the Humans won. We fled.
We ran for our lives because it was the only thing we could do. Now, we’ve stopped running. Stopped. He says we’re just waiting. I can’t take it! “I can’t sit here while he goes—”
“Emeric’s men are the best chance the lasses have,” Indiro cuts me off.
I cross my arms in front of my chest and sink back under my hood, tightening my jaw to avoid saying something I’ll regret. This is so fucked. What if he gets there too late? We’ve already wasted so much time. I’m counting the days, and every sunset drives me deeper into the darkness within. I’m losing it. Today is day thirty-five since they took her.
I thrum my fingers on my crossbow and dig my heels into my boots. Indiro lights up his smoking pipe.
“It will take him a fortnight to travel to Dulin. He’s wasting time.” As I clean my crossbow, I watch the Man Indiro insists I trust. His mouth curves into a sinister smile, and his blue-green eyes appraise me from beneath his hood. A Man dressed in shadows, too preoccupied with a tapestry of the night sky, to go rescue my wife. His brother-in-arms watches me, his mismatched eyes glowing hungrily at me. Their power is strange and ancient. Their presence sets my teeth on edge. Humans shouldn’t have this affect me, but they do. I’ll admit when I’m beyond my bounds. I can’t clash with these Humans. Not yet. Still, I just don’t see what Indiro sees — how can he trust them?
“Thane is doing this his way.” Indiro’s heavy hand claps on my shoulder and forces me to look at him. “He told us to wait here,” he growls. “And we will wait here.”
“I cannot wait! How do you expect me to sit idly by? I don’t trust these Humans, I’m not you. If they get their h
ands on her, who’s to say they’re no less threat to her than the king? They’re his kind. Not our kind. She will never be safe in the hands of a Human, king or shadow.”
Emeric laughs, a dull sound. And he continues to laugh as he lights up his smoking pipe too. His Men turn towards me, circling around me.
“You use the word Human too loosely, boy.” Their leader glares at me from beneath his hood. “The King of Stone and my kind… we are not the same the way a bear is not a dragon.”
“And what are you?” I stand to my full height. Every muscle in my body goes rigid and the hairs on my arms stand. Emeric coughs as he laughs, and smoke plumes from his mouth, filling the dimly lit hall with haze. Indiro is no longer at my side but melded into the crowd of Shadows that surround me.
“You need to understand only one thing.” Thane steps forward. “We are the only chance Keres and Liriene have of surviving.”
Darius
“She cast me away.”
Vagabond in a strange land, wandering farther from my lover’s bed. Her words echo in my mind with every step. “I can’t.”
I sensed the truth behind her eyes. I tasted it on her skin. She could love me; turn my world on its axis with her love. If she could be honest with herself and if she stopped giving in to the will of the Gods.
She could be with me. Still, she sent me here. Away from her — cast off. And I obeyed because I cannot resist her. Her wish is my command. No matter the cost, no matter the pain.
I delivered her message to the King of Gryphons and in return they have harbored me. Allowed me to remain in the hospitality of Lydany. These people are a strange coalition of Elves and Humans; allies. All standing vigilant, a watch on the borders of Aureum’s Republic and its neighbor, Illyn. There is movement in the West. Shadows stir and the bitter winds whisper predictions of strife. Ruination.
They told me when my homeland fell. They tell stories of the battle round their fires. The Sunderance of Children. They say the King took her and her sister. They say Ivaia of Legend was slain on the battlefield beside her knight. Our Coroner, scythe in hand, faced none other than the feared Magister Hadriel.
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