Promise of Darkness (Dark Court Rising Book 1)

by Bec McMaster

  I lie down beside him, hesitantly resting my head on his shoulder. “I won’t leave you. Not until we find help. I promise.”

  This is one promise I can keep.

  After another fitful night, the second morning brings change.

  I’m pacing the cabin, wondering what I’m going to do with the prince, when I hear his voice call hesitantly from the other room, “Vi?”

  Mother of Night.

  Rushing back inside, I gape as the prince struggles up onto his elbows. “You’re alive.”

  “Of course, I’m alive.” He looks irritable.

  Rust-colored blood mars his bandages, and those wicked-looking tattoos seem to leer at me. I offer him fresh water, which he gulps thirstily.

  “Don’t tell me you thought I was dying.” His voice might sound like it’s coming from a raw throat, but there’s a twinkle in his eyes.

  “I was hoping.” I say with false bravado. “I nearly left you behind twice.”

  “No, you didn’t.” He looks around, hazy recognition dawning in his eyes. “My hunting cabin.”

  A disbelieving laugh escapes me. “Of all the paths I picked to follow, I somehow led myself straight to it.”

  “Mmm,” he murmurs. “Fate works in mysterious ways.”

  There’s something about the way he says it that makes me look at him sharply. “Surely, you don’t believe the old tales—that I was meant to find this place.”

  “What do you believe then? We’re in the middle of a fucking forest, Vi. Do you think you just happened to stagger upon the right trail, when I’d given you no more than a general direction?”

  The thought has plagued me over the days.

  “Maybe the demi-fey led me here,” I reply with a shrug. “I was half-comatose myself.”

  And they’ve been known to lead strangers to safety in trying circumstances.

  Of course, they’ve also been known to lead them to their doom.

  There’s no other answer I can believe.

  “Maybe.” He rubs at his temples. “How did you get me here?”

  I proceed to tell him about the past two days.

  And, of course, he lifts the furs and glances down, then looks up at me with one eyebrow arched. “Did my Shadows destroy my clothes, or did you finally succumb to my charms?”

  “What charms?” I growl under my breath as I push to her feet. “That’s exactly what happened. When you were unconscious, I could no longer contain myself and tore your shirt to shreds. Don’t worry. You’re definitely more irresistible when your mouth is shut.”

  His eyes narrow.

  “And it wasn’t as though the cold made you any less a man.”

  That shuts him up.

  He pushes upright, the heavy muscles in his shoulders flexing as the furs fall into his lap. “I guess you won’t mind if I do this then.” Throwing aside the furs, he slings his legs over the edge of the bed.

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I arch a brow as he pushes to his feet. If the bastard thinks me a very maid, here to blush and stammer just because he has his cock out, then he’s sorely mistaken.

  “If you’re trying to impress me, I’d suggest you wait until you’re not covered in blood.”

  He suddenly sways and nearly goes to one knee. Only a last-minute grab at the bedframe saves him.

  “No, please,” I say, not taking my eyes off him. “Don’t kiss my boots in gratitude. I’m not one for genuflection, though I must admit, there’s something about the thought of having you on your knees in front of me that gets me quite hot under the collar.”

  Thiago pushes away from the bed. “Is that what it takes? Because there’s a lot of things I can do on my knees that’ll put a smile on your face. And it doesn’t involve kissing your boots.”

  Heat sears my cheeks. Someone’s recovering well enough. If anything was going to convince me he’s not going to die on my watch, it’s this.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I need to… clean up.”

  He manages to make his way inside the wash chambers without a single comment about me washing his back.

  “You’re welcome,” I mutter under my breath.

  When he returns, he’s draped in a blanket that he’s managed to wrap around his lean hips. It does nothing to disguise the chiseled vee of his hips and the tented suggestion behind the fabric.

  He has, however, peeled most of my bandages off.

  Every inch of him is smooth, flawless skin once again.

  “You healed yourself.” It’s the sort of thing one isn’t encouraged to do, as healing draws upon the power within a body and he’s barely recovered. “You shouldn’t have.”

  “Someone had to.” Thiago sinks onto the bed, looking wan. Despite his lack of cuts and bruises, he’s doing his best to resemble an animated corpse.

  “I did my best.”

  He finally looks up. “And I’m grateful for it. You saved my life.”

  Awkwardness falls over the room.

  “Don’t tell my mother,” I say, flashing him a weak smile.

  “I promise.”

  And I realize that in the last few days he’s gone from enemy to… wary ally in my mind. He was right. I’m no longer afraid of him, despite the threat of the Darkness that lurks inside him.

  He saved my life. I saved his.

  There’s an uncertain feeling inside me.

  I may be a princess in my mother’s court, but I’ve always been expected to hold my own. The guards are there for our protection, but if someone attacked me and I failed to defeat them, then my mother would have shed few tears for my loss. Weakness, she would have called it. I’d have been better off dead.

  But the prince didn’t hesitate to push me out of the way of that trap, though he had to know he’d not make it himself.

  “Now,” I say, clearing my throat and trying to shrug away the feeling, because I can sense weakness within me when I feel it. “How are we going to get out of here?”

  “We’re not,” he says, slumping back onto the bed, his arms spread. “We’re going to wait. I’m in no condition to walk, let alone fight. Eris will find us.”

  “I can hardly wait.”

  The faintest of smiles touches his lips, but then it’s gone as he surrenders to sleep.

  15

  “Tell me about your wife,” I whisper as he reclines in the bed the next day, dark shadows beneath his eyes.

  Instantly, he tenses. “Why?”

  “You started a war for her,” I tell him. “She had to mean a great deal to you.”

  And yet he kisses me. Every time he looks at me, I can see the heat in his eyes. The want.

  It’s confusing.

  “I loved her. I still do. And I always will.” He captures my hand. “I would burn the world to ashes to have another moment with her. To see her look at me one more time with eyes full of love. But that doesn’t mean I will have that moment.”

  And with a glimpse of the power he’d wielded at Mistmere, he could no doubt do it. “What sort of woman would want to see the world burn?”

  His voice grows hard. “That’s the only reason I haven’t. She wouldn’t have wanted to see people suffer. Even if they deserve it.”

  I tug my hand away. It’s a little too disconcerting to see the pain in his eyes. This is love, something I’ve only seen from afar. I don’t want to picture the Prince of Evernight softening for a woman. I don’t want to imagine my enemy suffering, but I can’t help asking, “How did you lose her?”

  There’s the coldness again. The mask. “Your mother took her from me.”

  Suddenly, the enmity between the pair of them is starting to make more sense. This bitter war is a tangled affair, covered in thorns vicious enough to draw blood. It’s been building for decades, and at this stage I doubt there’s anything that can stop either of them from striking again.

  I’d hoped there would be a solution to the war, perhaps a means to make amends, but it’s quite clear there’s only one way to en
d it.

  One of them has to die.

  Silence lingers, broken only by the sound of my fingers on the linen.

  “What’s wrong, Princess?”

  “I don’t think your wife would have approved of me. Of this.”

  “This?” His eyes are suddenly as piercing as a hawk.

  “You know what I’m talking about.” My fingers fumble the bandage as I weave it around his waist, trying to ignore the hard slabs of muscle that brush against my fingers. Heat lingers beneath his skin like a banked furnace. A part of me wants to drown myself in that heat. See if it will ignite just as I think it will. “Trading kisses for a day’s peace.”

  “You do realize, you were the one who offered a kiss. I never intended to push my advances if they were unwelcome. You would have been safe without your oath.”

  My chin jerks up in surprise.

  For the first time since I’ve met him, his smile is suddenly radiant, lighting his entire face. And then he throws his head back and laughs, as if it’s the merriest jest.

  The Prince of Evernight tricked me.

  “Are you saying I bound myself to kiss you once a day for no reason?”

  “You seemed so determined to get your hands on me. I could hardly demur.”

  “You son of a bitch!” I punch him in pure indignation.

  “Ouch.” He claps a hand to his shoulder as if the blow made an impact. But he doesn’t stop laughing.

  And it’s ruining me.

  His sinfully dark looks I can handle. The smoldering smiles and wicked glint in his eyes are deliciously tempting, but ultimately a hurdle I can resist.

  But that hint of vulnerability, the small glimpses of a completely different man beneath the dangerous exterior are virtually irresistible.

  His laughter slowly dies as he sees the look in my eyes. “My wife would never have wanted me to be alone forever. She would not deny me a kiss, a moment of happiness.”

  I think about that.

  There’s no jealousy in this kind of love. I can’t help thinking that if I had ever found it—and if I were lost to my lover—then I would never want to see them spend an eternity in loneliness.

  No, there’s no jealousy in his wife’s terms, and yet I feel the smolder of it deep in my own chest.

  Because I’ve never felt that kind of love and I yearn for it.

  Thiago captures my chin with one hand, holding me there just long enough for there to be no mistake about his intentions. “And speaking of kisses, you owe me. Two, if I’m counting correctly.”

  The thought is gone, my moment of jealousy shattered. “It’s not my fault you were unconscious. And how do you know I didn’t claim a kiss while you were?”

  “I’d know.” His voice roughens as he leans closer, the heat of his breath stirring over my lips. “I’d know, Princess.”

  A mere second exists in which I could turn my face away, deny him the taste of my lips. Until now, he’s been content to let me set the pace. I owe him a kiss, but I know what he intends is no mere brush of the lips. He has that look in his eyes—a conquering warlord, set upon claiming as much as he can take.

  And yet…

  I don’t turn away.

  Maybe it’s that earlier thought still lingering like a ghost. I can’t have what he speaks of, and yet I can taste this mockery of it. Just for a few seconds I can pretend.

  A dangerous smile softens his mouth, and then he swoops down and captures a soft gasp on my lips. Steel fingers brand my chin, locking me in place, and his other hand slides through my hair, cupping the base of my skull in a proprietary claim. But it’s the hot lash of his tongue that melts me inside.

  Dangerous.

  This is far too dangerous.

  And yet, I could no more resist him, than I could pluck the moon from the sky with my fingers.

  This time there’s no denying there’s more to this moment than an oath I made. I want him to kiss me, purely for myself and no other reason.

  And as my fingers curl through his hair, I stop resisting. There is no Asturian princess in this moment. There is no Prince of Evernight. We’re just two desperate bodies, yearning for each other.

  I break away with gasp, my heart hammering in my chest. “That was worth at least two kisses.”

  The prince’s fingers stroke lightly over my wet lips. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

  But his smile is sleek and knowing.

  He doesn’t need to demand another one, for he knows I finally gave in.

  There’s no coming back from this.

  And I need to.

  Loud bootheels echo on the veranda to the hunting lodge.

  My heart kicks right up into my ribs, and I lunge for my knife as the door slams open, a pair of broad shoulders filling it. The man who enters wears battle-scarred hunting leathers, a ruff of heavy fur guarding his throat.

  My knife doesn’t waver. He looks far too pretty to be Unseelie, but that doesn’t mean he’s an ally. I certainly don’t recognize him.

  “Who are you?” I demand.

  The stranger’s eyes slide over me curiously, and then his lips quirk and he glances over my shoulder at Thiago. “I expected to find you in dire straits, judging by the amount of blood you’d lost between here and Mistmere, but here you are, lolling about in bed with a handsome wench.”

  “Wench?”

  They both ignore me.

  “Took you long enough to find us,” Thiago says, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “Did you take the scenic route?”

  “Oh, you know me.” The stranger’s grin widens. “Ran across a few remaining banes and took care of them. Had a slight sweat up, so had to cool off.” He shakes his tousled hair. “Looking this good doesn’t just happen, my prince.”

  “Alas,” Thiago replies dryly.

  “I take it you two know each other.” Some warning would have been nice before I made a fool of myself.

  Thiago pushes to his feet, clad in only his leather breeches. Those swirling black tattoos across his chest can’t hide the creep of iron poisoning that lingers like darkened bruises. “I have that misfortune, yes.”

  “Misfortune,” the stranger snorts. He winks at me and bows. “Finn Archellion, Your Most Beautiful Highness. Slayer of giants. Rescuer of damsels—or in this case, princes—in distress. And hunter unparalleled—”

  “Master of Arrogance,” Thiago drawls.

  “Perhaps he’s been spending too much time with you?” I point out sweetly.

  “Careful, love. Or I might just tell him how naked I was when I woke up.”

  Finn’s eyebrows shoot up. “Don’t stop. I’d love to hear the story.”

  I smile at the prince through my teeth. Breathe one word of it, and I’ll punch you in the balls.

  He winks. “I’m afraid that’s between the princess and myself.”

  Finn sighs. Thick dark hair brushes against his shoulders, and his eyes are as blue as an alpine lake. I don’t know what they’re putting in the water around here, but if there’s one thing the Kingdom of Evernight has, it’s an abundance of beautiful men.

  “What happened?” he asks. “Apart from waking up naked? Eris told me you were heading for Mistmere and that was half a week ago. She’s been… upset.”

  “How upset?” Thiago demands.

  Finn coughs into his hand. “Drastic measures were required. Hence why I’m here and there’s not a slaughtered trail of Unseelie leading to your door.”

  There’s something they’re not saying about Eris.

  She’s no friend of mine, but I’m not quite certain what her relationship with the prince is, precisely.

  While I’m fairly sure she’d drop me off the nearest cliff if she got the chance, I don’t think it’s entirely jealousy. She doesn’t look at Thiago as if she wants to eat him all up.

  And unless you’re blind, it’s the only way to look at him.

  The two men clasp hands as Thiago swiftly explains, and Finn’s smile fades abruptly. The pair of them share a
look that clearly says they’ll discuss it later before Thiago turns back to me with a faint smile. “Luckily for me, the princess decided to have mercy on me and dragged me up here.”

  “You can’t have annoyed her too much then.”

  “I didn’t like my chances trying to explain to Eris what had happened if I returned without him,” I reply dryly, testing the waters.

  Finn throws his head back and laughs. “A good argument. Eris would have been frothing at the mouth.”

  “So, what now?”

  The prince shrugs into his shirt, wincing a little. “Now, I need to speak to the council. Whatever Angharad is up to, she needs to be stopped. And I doubt I can do it alone.”

  16

  The flames flicker to life in my fireplace the second I walk through the door of my bedchambers at Valerian.

  I freeze. There’s no point denying I’d seen it; my mother can always sense the truth.

  Squatting by the hearth, I glance over my shoulder, then wave my hand through the flames, muttering the appropriate linking spell.

  My mother’s face ripples into view. “The prince appears to still be alive.”

  And hello to you too. “Keep your voice down,” I whisper. “One of the prince’s warriors doesn’t trust me. She watches every move I make.”

  “She?”

  “Eris?”

  My mother smirks. “That filthy half-bred mutt. How can the bastard prince even claim to rule a Seelie court when he takes in such scraps?”

  Perhaps that’s why his people are so loyal to him. Because he fights for their right to exist and cares little for their breeding or species. But there’s no point giving voice to my thoughts. Because Adaia’s definition of loyalty only seems to extend to that which is offered to her.

  “I see your knife hasn’t left its sheath.”

  “I… can’t get near him,” I lie. “Not with her watching me.”

  Adaia’s eyes narrow. “You could stop a war, my daughter. None of our subjects need die—”

  “I don’t think he’s interested in a war—”

  Adaia’s sneer cuts me off. “Your weakness is showing through. Does he woo you with his charm? Whisper his hopes for peace in your ear, even as he amasses his troops?”