Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

WREN

Leander drew a knife and stepped back from her at last, as if even being near her burned him. But before Wren could stop him, he pressed it to his own throat.

‘Well?’ he spat. ‘Is this what you want, little bird? I don’t know what it will do to me, but he’ll definitely be dead if his body is dead. Is that what you want?’

She wanted answers. And tearing him apart with shadow kin, as the urge racing through her body was telling her to do, was not going to help.

All around them, weapons were drawn. Well, he had just pulled out a knife in the presence of the king, not to mention the dark magic now coiling around Wren. You’d imagine they’d be delighted, she thought. This was what they wanted, after all. Their dark goddess returned. But perhaps it wasn’t quite the wonder they had envisaged. More like a nightmare.

And, night curse him, Leander was right. She couldn’t risk any harm coming to Finn. She needed to find out what that spell was and disentangle the two of them. Only Leander knew what he had done. Whether he did it himself, or the guards fell on him, the outcome would be the same and she couldn’t risk Finn. Not now. Not when she knew…

The spear of relief she felt was unexpected. It was Leander. It had been Leander all along, not Finn. Not her Finn. Mind racing, she turned back to the king and the sister of the Nox still kneeling on the edge of the dais. The general was directing his men and the guards were still moving, encircling the two of them. They were in mortal danger.

But she smiled. She couldn’t help herself. The fierce and irrational surge of joy made the darkness around her and within her purr with delight.

‘Come, oh divine darkness,’ Oriole intoned softly, spreading her hands wide in supplication. ‘Goddess, queen, endless night and sacred dark, hear us and accept our offering of service. We will bring you sacrifices and?—’

Wren laughed, cutting her off. She had one chance. She had to take it. She could be what they expected, couldn’t she? She could pretend.

‘What do I want with sacrifices?’ she asked. She held out her arm. ‘You’re supposed to serve me, then do it. Release me.’

The bracelet glimmered, still suppressing the magic flowing through her, still trying to hold her in check.

Oriole glanced at the king and, slowly, he shook his head. ‘I think not, divine darkness,’ Alessander murmured. ‘We are not fools. You are angry. And rightly so. Perhaps in time, when you have calmed down. In the meantime, the sisterhood must give me their resolution, Oriole.’

Still trembling, Oriole rose to her feet. ‘My lord king, the sisterhood recognises the princess as our lady and offers her a place within our halls.’

‘No!’ Leander shouted. ‘I refuse to accept this. She is mine. Tell them, Wren. Tell them now!’

Or he’d hurt himself. Hurt Finn’s body. The threat in his words was implicit. He still had the knife. No one else knew who he was or what he was doing. They didn’t know it was Leander.

No. This was not happening. She would not allow it. The anger rose, the darkness with it, shadows crawling through her. And with them came power. More than power.

Give in , the Nox whispered. You know you want to. I can help you. Together we can make them all beg for mercy. Let me in, little vestige. Be my vessel and let me fill you.

But Wren couldn’t do that either.

The bracelet wouldn’t allow that and for once she was grateful. All the same her breath caught in her throat, and her heartbeat thundered.

‘We can help you,’ Oriole said. ‘The voice of the Nox is powerful, but it cannot control you. It will threaten and it will entice. But without your agreement, it is but a voice. We can teach you control. Balance. Come with us. We will protect you and help you.’

‘Hestia said…’ Wren didn’t know where the words came from and they failed almost as soon as she said them. Swallowing hard, she tried again. ‘Hestia said it was about balance.’

‘Hestia is wise,’ Oriole said, her tone smoother now, more self-assured. ‘The wisest of us. And should she return, she will be chief among your teachers. Until then, I humbly offer my guidance.’

Wren let the anger die down, just a little, released her rage and the shadows subsided with a sigh.

‘Yes,’ she whispered, desperate now. ‘Please. Help me.’

Lady Oriole nodded, her expression calm again, radiating satisfaction. She had won.

‘Father,’ said Leander, still wearing Finn’s face, still living this lie. ‘You can’t do this. She doesn’t know what she’s saying. She’s mine. She promised. You promised.’

‘I promised you nothing,’ Wren told him, but Leander mounted the steps to the dais, approaching his father. Of course he ignored her. What interest did he have in anything she might have to say?

‘Don’t do this, Father. I warn you. I will not let it stand.’

The shadows rose again, swirling like leaves caught in a whirlwind. They tore through the chamber, throwing back the guards and forcing them away. For a moment Wren thought it might be Leander’s doing but he stared around, wide-eyed, and his gaze locked on her in accusation.

But it wasn’t her either. Not this time. Her anger might have stirred them but it couldn’t call the shadows, not here, not while she wore that accursed bracelet.

The king pushed himself up to standing as the darkness deepened, centring on the middle of the chamber, a vortex of darkness coalescing in the middle. In its depths, she saw two figures, one standing tall and the other slumped in his arms.

And she knew them, knew them both.

Hestia, limp and pale, magic draining out of her as she spilled her power in a recklessness born of panic and desperation…her eyes almost entirely white as she sank to her knees. And trying to stop her falling, holding her so tenderly…white blond hair whipping around his razor-sharp face…Leander.

Only it wasn’t Leander, was it? His grey eyes fixed on hers and in them was a warmth that had never been there before.

‘Finn!’ Wren shouted, and her voice cracked as she scrambled across the space between them on legs that would barely move.

He stumbled and almost fell as the darkness around them faded. Laurence reached the two of them before Wren could, grabbing Hestia and lowering her to the ground.

‘Aunt Oriole!’ he screamed. ‘Aunt Oriole, please, help her! She’s used all her magic. It’s drained her. She’s dying.’

But no one else was listening to the boy. Panic spread throughout the chamber, chaos breaking out all around them.

Old magic surged through the ground, through the air, a power the likes of which Wren had never felt before. It was not just the Nox, or the Aurum. It was something else, wild and out of control, chasing the magic that had brought Finn and Hestia here. Lines of light and darkness wrapped around Leander’s body and Finn struggled against them, but she watched them spread out, tangling around the two men.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ the king shouted. ‘What is happening? Lady Oriole?—’

With a snarl, Leander grabbed his father by the shoulder and plunged the knife into his throat.

Blood splattered across his face – Finn’s face – bright and red, scarlet making his stolen blue eyes unbearably bright as they fixed on Wren’s horrified gaze.

The king slid from his grasp, sprawling on the steps beneath his own throne, his eyes wide and glassy in death.