Chapter 8

Once they started hammering out the particulars, the once-civil discussion devolved once more into an all-out argument. A visibly nervous Bexley hung off to the side, looking expectantly to Torin as if he wished she'd invite him along on this suicide mission.

I shook my head.

The mage should thank his lucky stars he was staying put.

If we were going up against Serpens, we needed allies we could trust. We needed powerful allies, so of course we had to go rescue a dragon. And right now, I was trusting Torin and Simon more every minute.

Yes, she'd pretty much tricked us into helping free her friends, but wouldn't I do the same for mine? I would steal and lie and cheat to save my males, so I couldn't exactly hold her methods against her.

And a dragon…There hadn't been dragons in the world for centuries. But Darkhold was on the other side of the world. A forbidden, dangerous place.

My gaze landed on Torin, arms folded across her chest, and despite my best efforts, a shiver of dread went through me. Even with her friends, there would only be nine of us. Nine against the Shadow King, an army of ten thousand, and two Old Gods.

The impossibility of what we were up against sent exhaustion crashing through me, wiping away the excitement of discovering dragons still existed.

"I'm going upstairs," I said to no one in particular.

After my first tentative steps, I found I could walk without pain, and more importantly, my legs were strong enough to carry me up the staircase and away from this pointless argument. And my mother, who I could hardly stand to look at.

I'd only made it halfway down the hall when Raziel caught me by the arm. "I looked up and you were gone." He peered down at me, two deep lines etched deeply on either side of his mouth. "I don't blame you for not wanting to listen to that anymore."

The sounds of their argument drifted down the hall, followed by some heavy thumping.

"Tavion's fist," Raz muttered. "I swear to the gods, he has a short temper."

"I just…" I picked at my filthy clothes. "I have to get out of these. A few hours of sleep wouldn't hurt, either. I know we can't delay, but we're all exhausted, Raz. We'd better rest or we won't get very far."

"Exactly what Zor's explaining to Torin right now." He steered me toward the room we'd occupied before. "Let's get the bath filled so you can soak this grime off. I get to go second, though." He leaned in and the strong smell of male musk overwhelmed his normally crisp scent.

I leaned back. "You are a bit ripe."

"You don't exactly smell like a bed of roses, princess."

"No." I sighed. "I don't." Raz put his back to the door, shutting out the voices, and I closed my eyes, letting the truths that were said downstairs sink in.

Raziel didn't push. Didn't ask any of the questions he probably wanted to ask. Just waited for me to speak. Which took a minute, given I had so much to sort through.

"When I first discovered I was from the High Barrens, the only thing that mattered was I could still have family out there, somewhere. That for the first time in my life, I wouldn't be alone."

"Keep talking, I'm listening." Raziel headed for the washroom. There was a splutter, followed by the sound of running water. Freezing water, most likely, but I'd brave the cold to get this blood and sweat off me.

"Freeing Adele from that prison became a big fuck you to my father, who dared lock her away for giving birth to me." I smiled faintly when he came back and set his hands on my shoulders. "And maybe to Torin, too, because she was so quick to leave Adele there to rot."

"But now?" I peered up into his face, saw myself reflected in his dark eyes as I traced his neck, so bare without the collar.

"Seeing this other side of my mother…I don't know what to think. She was so…helpless and fragile. I never wondered what she might have been like…before." I rubbed my burning eyes. "She's endured so much, I feel like a total piece of shite being mad at her, but hearing her talk about using me…makes me wonder if she's no different than anyone else."

Raziel sighed softly before he began kneading my stiff neck. "Adele was a different person twenty years ago, Anaria. She came from a privileged background and had all the airs that went along with aristocracy. But that's what made our plan work, because Carex recognized her as an equal."

"What about the witch blood and this supposed army? Do you think any of that's real?"

"I would say yes, given the mark on your arm." He unbuttoned my jacket, and I shrugged it off then slid the iron arm bands down and tossed them onto the bed with a dull clink. Magic hazed the room with a shimmer of stars.

"So careless with these," Raz chided gently, setting them on the bedside table. "It's not like we can find another set."

I let him inspect the delicate branches that stretched up to my shoulder. "We have to know more about what this mark means. I agree with Zor on this, Anaria. I don't want you walking into the Barrens without us. Wait for us at Nightcairn, then we all go together."

"You can't be two places at once. Once we disappear into the tunnels, the Oracle will keep her eyes to the east, watching for us to reappear. You'll have a better chance of getting this Zephryn out of Darkhold without interference."

"A dragon," Raz breathed in wonder, his hands resting on my shoulders. "Do you know what it would be like to have a dragon on our side?"

"He probably eats a lot," I pointed out, my heart squeezing when Raz's lips curved up into a smile, the first I'd seen from him all day. I skimmed my fingers over that smile, committing it to memory. "We'll have to pull a cart of sheep behind us to keep him happy."

"And he probably snores." Raz dragged me hard against him, muscles flexing as he tucked me beneath his chin. "Belches out fire."

"Then he'll fit right in with the rest of you heathens." I closed my eyes and flattened my hands against his strong chest, my palm over the mark hidden beneath his shirt.

"You scared me, Anaria." His shudder transferred every bit of his horror into me. "When you slid out of my arms, when I couldn't heal those wounds…I was afraid I'd lost you."

"Nope. You're stuck with me, remember?" I pressed my cheek to his chest until all I heard were his even, steady heartbeats. "Forever and ever, until we all turn into monsters. We're family, and family stays together till the bitter end."

"That works for me." He kissed the top of my head. "Now get in the bath. You smell like horseshite and Corvus's magic, and I want every trace of that fucker gone. Not a single reminder of his foulness left behind. I'll try to find you something to wear tomorrow."

"Maybe in the Wynters' bedroom. Across the hall."

I swallowed before I stepped away.

"Do you really think I'm related to these people?" I looked the room over with fresh eyes. "Lord Alaric and Lady Zephora Wynter."

Even their names felt wrong on my tongue, slippery and strange. "There's a painting down on the main floor I never paid any attention to before. But except for the blue eyes…I hate to even say this, but I think I look like them."

"I saw it. They look exactly like Adele did, the one time I saw her before you were born. Your nose is different, and you don't have an arrogant bone in your body, but I don't think Adele's lying."

"Arrogant?" I choked out, but he only nodded, as if he'd only pointed out the obvious.

"I can't believe I'm a witch." Those words sounded surreal coming out of my mouth.

"Not just any witch." Raz hurried to the washroom and turned off the water. "A High Barrens witch."

"There's a difference?"

He slanted me a look. "There are green witches, who work with herbs. Most become healers, like Bexley. There are also hedge witches and garden witches, good at potions. There are red witches, who specialize in complex spell work and blood magic and aren't always on the side of good." His eyes slid over to mine.

"Then there are the High Barrens witches."

"I'm so not liking the sound of this, Raz."

"Some call them the moon witches." His gaze dropped to the glittering tree on my arm. "Despite the name, their magic is rooted in ancient lore that has long been forgotten. They were once spread out across all three realms, but when Carex stole his father's throne, he drove them underground, where they honed their magic into something to be feared."

"And you know this how?"

"People talk. And there are still plenty of witches around, though they don't call themselves that. They're healers and herbalists. There's an entire section of Blackcastle filled with shops that peddle magical wares, like potions and spells."

"Southwell. I know, that's where Ember…the Reaper, sent her messages back and forth to Solok. That's where Simon was." My brow furrowed when the memory hit me. "At…Trubahn's shop."

Raz and I traded a look. "Clearly, Torin has ties to Southwell."

"Might be something we can use down the line," Raz observed, his mind already working. "Trubahn had a reputation for using dark magic, so long as he was paid well. Not the sort of ally I'd like on my side, but war is no time to be choosy."

"Tavion didn't like him much."

"Of course he didn't. He doesn't like anyone."

Raz set his forehead against mine and we stayed like that, pressed together, breathing in each other like we couldn't get enough. Finally, he pulled away.

"I'll have Tristan to heat the water, while I find you some clothes." He stroked his hand down my back then squeezed my arse. "If we only had more time…"

"But we don't," I reminded him. "If we do anything tonight, we should be sleeping."

But Raziel kissed me, slow and taunting, his tongue slipping between my lips, tracing my teeth before exploring my mouth with practiced ease, our bodies molding together as if we'd been made for each other, his hands softly tracing up the curve of my spine.

It felt so good to be touched. To be loved.

For his warm, calloused hands to brush over my skin. And I was leaning forward, falling into the singular pleasure of his caress when he pulled away.

"Keep telling yourself that, princess." Raz gave me a wink before he disappeared through the door.