Promise of Darkness (Dark Court Rising Book 1)

by Bec McMaster

  It still sounds as though it happened to someone else. “Wait. This isn’t the first time this has happened.” It’s not a question. “How many times?” I feel sick.

  “How many times, curse you!”

  Expression slides from his face as though a shroud has obscured it. “Thirteen. This is the thirteenth time you’ve come to me with no memories of us.”

  The room is spinning again.

  “Thirteen.” It comes out on my breath. I push to the edge of the bed, suddenly unwilling to lie there any longer. I need to move. Pace. None of this makes any sense. And yet, knowing my mother as I do, I can see how it might happen.

  It sounds exactly like something she would do.

  “I’m only twenty,” I breathe. “I only returned from Queen Maren’s court two summers ago, after serving her as a lady-in-waiting.”

  “You’re thirty-three.” Thiago’s expression softens. “I’m sorry, Vi. Your sister was named princess-heir thirteen summers ago, and you’ve been locked away in your mother’s court ever since. It’s all just an elaborate ruse to… keep your memories locked away.”

  I can’t breathe. My lungs simply won’t open.

  It’s not just him my mother stole.

  Thirteen summers.

  Gone.

  All those doors slamming in my face…. My mother turning to Andraste at every opportunity, flaunting it. It wasn’t just a ruse. It was all a game, and I’ll bet my soul she enjoyed every moment of it.

  I want to scream.

  The constant fear I’ve felt, knowing my future depended on who was named heir. Trying so desperately to earn my mother’s approval, when it was an impossible task. Andraste knew. And what was it she’d said? Perhaps I should enjoy my time with the prince.

  Oh, Maia. My knees buckle beneath me.

  The prince is there in a second, catching me before I hit the floor, but I can’t stand to have his hands on me. Not in this moment.

  I push him way, fighting free.

  “No! Don’t. Don’t touch me.”

  I’m not ready for his compassion.

  It will break me.

  He stiffens, and I realize I’ve escaped to the other side of the bed, my arms wrapped around my chest as if to hold myself together.

  We stare at each other like two nobles facing a duel that neither of us wants.

  “There were letters,” I whisper, trying to sort through everything. “Someone was leaving me letters in Valerian, urging me to trust you. Who writes them?"

  I’m desperately afraid I already know.

  A feminine hand in sloping Asturian cursive.

  His green gaze spears straight through me. "You write them, Vi. To remind yourself of the truth. And the demi-fey leave them for you to find."

  Imagine writing those letters, knowing I’m going to lose all recollection of him.

  “So when you spoke of seducing me, in order to get your wife back….” They were speaking of me.

  "Every year she grants me three months with you," Thiago says. "And every year I must... must win your heart." He looks down then, at his curled fist. "And every year you promise me you will not forget me."

  And then I do.

  I’m not the only one who’s faced years of this. I’m not the only one who’s lost more than mere memories.

  I remember the way he looked at me that night by the bonfires, as if waiting for me to recognize him. I’d thought him disappointed in me at the time, but now I know the truth.

  That look was the loss of hope.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault,” he says. “It’s never your fault.”

  None of this makes sense.

  But I know this prince.

  He’s stolen dozens of kisses from me in the past weeks. He’s never taken more than he was owed, merely waiting patiently for me to come to him.

  "Will you let me hold you?" Thiago whispers, stepping closer.

  This man feels like a stranger to me. But I can't deny that the heat that exists in the inch between our bodies draws me. I can’t deny that fluttery feeling deep within my abdomen.

  Without thinking, I reach out, hesitating once before pressing my hand against his chest. The fabric of his shirt melts against his skin, and suddenly his heart is beating hard beneath my hand. It calls to me, teasing at the little magic I own. I might not know him, but I know this.

  I jerk my hand away, but he catches it, that piercing gaze searching mine as if he can see my very soul.

  "Don't be scared.”

  "I'm not." I'm confused. How did Adaia steal those memories? Is this real, or is he merely lying to me?

  But it feels real as he leans down, his face looming into view. I’ve kissed him so many times, but I can’t stop myself from freezing, not this time.

  Because this time, there’s so much more to it than a simple bargain.

  "Sweet Goddess," he whispers hoarsely. "Just this once. Please, Vi. Please let me kiss you. It's been so long."

  And I surrender, closing my eyes and curling my fists protectively in front of me as I tilt my face to his.

  His mouth crashes down over mine.

  A gasp escapes me, and I soften into his embrace as his tongue slicks against me. It’s a kiss meant to consume me. A kiss that speaks of loss and yearning, as if he’s spent every day of the past nine months counting down the moments until he could hold me in his arms again.

  Each time I’ve pressed my lips to his, gracing him with the mockery of a kiss, he’s been patiently restraining himself.

  I’ve seen his fingers curled around the arms of his chair and felt the stiffness within him. Every inch of him was always rock-hard and aching to prolong our embrace, though I’d always thought it the threat of breaking our bargain that held him at bay.

  This is the prince set loose of his ties.

  This is the stranger who feels so familiar.

  He’s a storm of passion and fury finally unleashed, and I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I can’t resist.

  “Oh, gods.” I come up for air, and his mouth is on my throat, teeth grazing the delicate skin there.

  Firm hands grab my ass, and then he’s grinding me against him. Want and need conspire to undo me.

  Thiago picks me up by the back of the thighs, wrapping my legs around his hips. Two steps and then he’s slamming me back on the bed. My fingers curl in his shirt, and I can’t breathe, but it’s for an entirely different reason than before.

  He claims my mouth again, and it feels as though my skin’s too small to contain me. I’m burning up, my body igniting. Sweet merciless Maia, but I don’t know if I can handle any more of this.

  It’s only then that I smell the smoke.

  “Wait!” I gasp, pushing against his chest.

  It’s too much.

  And that burning sensation…. I think I’m actually setting the bed on fire.

  Pain lashes through my chest, my magic gushing up within me. It’s always been a trickle, but this feels like the floodgates have finally opened.

  “Vi?” He lifts his head.

  The smoke dampens down, and when I press a hand to the bedspread, I feel heat lingering in the quilt.

  What was that?

  My hands are trembling. And the press of his body is overwhelming, lighting my veins on fire again. Or perhaps that’s my magic. I don’t understand any of this.

  “I just need… room to breathe. A chance to think.”

  The prince pushes to his feet, his face forcibly expressionless. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

  And then he vanishes through the doors of the bedchamber as if an entire pack of banes were on his heels.

  And I don’t have the breath to call him back.

  22

  “So how do we break the curse?”

  I spent all last night tossing and turning in my bed, thinking about everything the day revealed.

  And now I’m angry.

  I know exactly where to find the prince, too. Every morning, he
trains with his sword. It takes me only a few minutes to track him down in the solar at the top of the tallest tower in the castle. Swords ring and curses grunt, but with my words, the entire room goes still.

  Thiago pauses in his attack, breathing hard as he steps away from Baylor. Sweat mars his shirt, and I can see those writhing black tattoos painted across his skin beneath it. “Wife.”

  It’s such a jarring word, but this time, I’m prepared to face it. “Your Highness.”

  I’m not yet ready to call him husband.

  I don’t know if I ever will be.

  “How do we break the curse?” I repeat softly.

  Eris watches from one of the window arches, wearing a brown leather corset, knee high boots, and a golden armband that highlights her dark skin. Her black hair is bound back this morning, and the second she saw me, her eyebrows rose and haven’t resettled. There’s a cat nestled on her knee, and she slowly resumes stroking it.

  “We don’t,” Thiago tells me, his words clipped as he lowers the sword. “We’ve had you examined by every sorcerer and witch this side of Unseelie. The curse is knotted so tightly around you that any attempt to undo it will only destroy your mind. You felt what it was like to merely learn the truth. This will kill you.”

  “So, we just let my mother win?”

  We just let her steal away my life, year by year?

  “You will remember me. One day,” he says sharply. “You will break the spell, I have no doubt of that.”

  “And in the meantime?” I step closer, my hands curled. Another truth assaulted me during the night. It was so easy to call fire last night. I barely even thought it, and my magic was sweeping through me. And Thiago had been so certain I could learn to ward. That I could wield my magic. “I forget everything, don’t I? This curse steals all of my memories from me. It steals my hold on my magic. Doesn’t it?”

  His gaze lowers as he wipes an oiled rag along the length of his sword. “Yes. It steals everything.”

  I knew it, and yet, the blow still staggers me.

  I want to set the fucking world on fire.

  “Vi,” Thiago warns, stepping closer.

  Smoke curls through the air. My clenched palms feel hot.

  “Control it,” he warns.

  I can’t. I’m burning up again, and this time there is no way to tamp it down. It flares through me, like a phoenix bursting to life in my chest. Hot and violent and screaming with rage.

  Flames burst into being around me. I am pure, molten fire.

  They rage in a circular inferno, and too late, I realize he’s warded me so none of my magic can escape.

  “Control it,” he barks.

  I can’t.

  My hair whips around me, my skin cracking apart as the fire consumes me. All my life, all I’ve ever wanted is my magic, but this is terrifying. It’s so much. Too much. A dam that’s burst its banks, and nothing I can do will force it back inside me.

  “Breathe, Vi. Think of kittens. Soft, fluffy kittens.’

  Kittens?

  What in the Underworld is he talking about?

  But in the next second, I realize the flames are dying down.

  With a desperate wrench of willpower, I swallow it all back down, letting it consume me instead. All the hatred and the anger, and the… grief.

  I end up on my knees, panting, holding my hands in front of me. They’re whole, the skin unblistered, but I swear they were on fire bare seconds ago.

  “Kittens?” I manage to rasp.

  Thiago kneels, capturing my hands. “I needed to distract you. You lost control of your emotions and hence your magic,” he says sharply. “Anger and hate will only exacerbate the lack of control, and you’ll end up burning the city down if you don’t yield to it.”

  My entire being is shaking. I can smell the smoke again. Feel the heat drying my throat. “I don’t know how. She took everything.”

  “And we will take it back,” he says grimly. “Trust me, Vi. Trust me. You’re not alone. I won’t let you deal with this alone.”

  He presses his lips to my forehead, and a wave of coolness slides over my skin. It’s his magic, dark and foreign, but it feels like drenching myself in water.

  The heat and rage abate, and finally I can breathe again.

  “I offered to teach you how to ward once,” he tells me, hauling me to my feet. “The offer still stands, though I will extend it to teaching you how to control your magic. If you want?”

  It’s not so much a matter of want as a matter of need. The entire room stinks of smoke. “Do I have a choice?’

  “You always have a choice.”

  “Did I have a choice when you and my mother made this foolish bargain? Did I have a choice when she told me I was going to be your hostage for three months?” I’m tired of being pushed and pulled around.

  “Eris. Baylor. May we have some privacy.”

  It’s not a question.

  Baylor glances at me, glances at him, then stalks past, hurrying down the stairs as if he doesn’t want to be privy to any part of this conversation. Eris moves a little slower, sauntering across the floor.

  “Good luck,” she drawls. “I hope you both manage to keep your eyebrows this time.”

  Then their footsteps are echoing down the stairs.

  “You’re angry,” Thiago says.

  “Would you not be?”

  He shrugs. “Yes. But I don’t have the luxury of allowing myself to lose control. That’s the first lesson, Vi. Power such as ours is not merely a gift, but a responsibility.”

  It’s all I’ve ever craved, but I can’t help looking at the charred marble that surrounds me.

  “Let me help you,” he says.

  “You want to help me?” I turn toward the sword rack and take one of them from its sheath with a steely rasp. I need to do something physical, to rid myself of this rush of blood roaring in my ears. “Then fight me.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “I don’t care if it’s a good idea or not. She took my… my magic from me. She took my memories. Everything. You.” Meeting his eyes, she tipped her chin up. “I don’t remember you. You say I loved you. You say I was your wife, but it feels like you’re talking about someone else.”

  “Do you think I don’t see that in your eyes every time you look at me?” he snarled.

  It wasn’t just me who’d lost something.

  “How can I trust anyone when everything that’s ever been said to me is a lie?”

  “I wasn’t the one lying to you,” he said.

  I cross to the center of the tower, the sword weaving figure-of-eights in the air. “Really? Because it feels like a lie of omission. All these days, you’ve been flirting with me, smirking at me, driving me crazy…. Knowing what I’ve lost—what I had taken from me—for thirteen years—”

  “Do you think I enjoy it?” The muscle in his jaw ticks. “Having you look at me like I’m a stranger? Every year you tell me you won’t forget me, and every year when you return, you don’t even know me.”

  “That’s not my fault.”

  “I know.” A frustrated sigh escapes him as he draws his sword again. “I know. But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change.”

  “You said you have no doubt I’ll break the spell. It doesn’t sound like it.”

  A growl curls through his throat. “I have faith in you. I have to, Vi. There is no other option.”

  “There has to be something we can do. I won’t accept this. I won’t just hold my breath and hope for the best.” I can’t live like that. I need to do something, and if we fail, then at least we tried.

  “Considering the alternative is watching your brains trickle out your ears, I don’t want to take that risk.”

  “It’s not your choice,” I remind him.

  And then I attack.

  The swords meet in a clash of steel that vibrates up my arm. Maia help me, but he’s ridiculously strong. I’ll never beat him in a full-frontal attack.

  I t
urn into a series of sharp ripostes and disengages, trying to lure him into a trap. But he’s prepared, and merely arches a brow when I suddenly lunge forward.

  The truth burns: he’s toying with me. Not fighting me with all his skill.

  Rage ignites within me.

  A kick takes out the side of his knee, and I throw myself into a flurry of strokes. It feels good to let the anger wash through me. I don’t have to worry about pulling my strokes—it’s somewhat gratifying to realize he’s forced to use all his skill now to keep me at bay.

  “Getting tired?”

  A fierce smile flashes white teeth at me. “I could do this all day, my love.”

  He lunges forward, forcing me back with a flurry of fancy footwork.

  I don’t know where it comes from, but as I parry his blade, driving it toward the ground, I step into him, hooking my foot behind his calf. His body slams into mine, but he’s off-balance enough that I manage to kick his feet out from under him.

  We both go down, the swords flying free. I hit with an oof and then I’m rolling. Twisting my hips to lock my legs around his and reaching for the dagger at my belt.

  I put the knife to his throat with a snarl as I straddle him

  For several seconds there’s only silence.

  The urge to strike dies down, leaving me breathless. Leaving us both breathless.

  “There she is,” he whispers, lying flat on his back in surrender.

  There’s a moment where something inside me urges me to slash my blade across his skin, to see if he’ll still smile then, but somehow, I rein it in. I don’t know where this anger has come from.

  Thiago stills, his green eyes hooding with heat as he clasps my thigh. He tilts his head arrogantly, revealing the vulnerable skin of his throat. “Go ahead. You have me at your mercy, my love.”