Ariiaya
Birds chimed in song as early morning light pierced the clouds above, painting the tall trees and thick underbrush in saturated gold. Arii lifted a hand, hovering her open palm before her as they walked through the dense forest. A little sphere of magic formed, shimmering on her palm like a crystal ball. She turned and trotted backwards, holding the glowing sphere out to the man who trailed silently behind her. He hadn’t spoken much over the hour or so since they began their path to Evergrave, and the silence had Arii feeling edgy.
When Arii was edgy, she tended to use her hands.
Elijah slowed, eyes lifting to her offering, before he paused mid step, brows drawn in a look of mild agitation and wariness.
“What are you doing?” he murmured, uneasy.
“You could do this too – all you need to do is will the ball to form. Watch,” she added a second palm to the first, another sphere rippling into existence beside the first as she cupped her palms together.
Elijah’s voice was a low snap. “No.”
“Just try! You have to learn to control your magic, Elijah.”
“I said no.”
Her eyes lifted to see the man stopped dead, arms folded across his chest and his lips drawn in a deep frown.
Stubborn bloody brute.
“Look, magic is like a muscle. The more you use it, the easier and stronger it gets.”
When his expression did not change, she lifted her palm, willing the two spheres to meld as one before bouncing the ball upon her palm. Her eyes slid from the magic to Elijah’s face again.
Elijah huffed and she saw a tick of frustration forming on his jaw. “I… What if I…” He paused, glancing away, his silver eyes fixed on anything but her. “I cannot risk causing another explosion – a repeat of the destruction I caused in Viridya.”
Arii bit her lip, fighting back a very inappropriate giggle as his eyes slid slowly back to her, his face turning incredulous. “Did you just… laugh at me?”
Her brow quirked as she placed a hand on her hip, continuing to bounce the ball of magic upon her palm. “I understand you have been raised for the majority of your life to fear magic, Elijah, but it isn’t as scary as you think.” Arii inhaled loudly before she suddenly grabbed the ball and threw it hard and fast, right at Elijah’s head.
The man ducked as the sphere whizzed overhead, slamming into a nearby tree with a light crack.
As he slowly recovered, gazing at the smoking black mark left on the tree, Elijah’s head turned back to her. Arii bit her lip, sucking in another giggle as it bubbled up from within – taking in the look on his face.
His expression was livid.
Gods, perhaps lake water had leaked into her brain. Rarely did she giggle. Actually, she was not sure she had ever giggled in her entire life. She raised her hands – palms up – as Elijah stormed the small space between them like an enraged bear.
Suddenly, magic rippled in the air, and the taste of syrup doused the back of her tongue – causing the hairs on her nape to stand on end. Elijah’s dark hair danced as a breeze picked up, and Arii swore she felt the ground beneath their feet shudder. The trees swayed above them with a little more vigour than what she would deem as natural, branches creaking as they rubbed together.
His anger was a weight on the air around them and the feeling was now all too familiar.
If he would not willingly explore his magic, perhaps she would annoy him until he had no choice but to use it. The hope of the land lay on his shoulders now, whether he liked it or not. There was a possibility he could kill her in the process, but that was a risk she had to take.
Magic crackled between her fingers, blue sparks igniting as her lips curled into a slow, sardonic smirk.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” he hissed, raising a warning finger – but too late.
Another small ball of magic flew past his head.
Then another.
“Arii!”
Crack.
“Hah ha!” Arii chuckled.
He ducked another sphere, which narrowly missed his head again. “By the gods–”
Crack.
Arii whipped up a large ball, before snapping out a hand like lightning, aiming for his chest. The ball speared through the air, and she was sure she was about to land a hit.
The sphere suddenly halted in mid-air, an arm length away from Elijah’s chest.
His hand was outstretched, fingers splayed as if to catch the sphere. His arm shook, little ripples vibrating down his broad shoulder – teeth clenched with a hissed breath as his chest rose and fell with anger, and possibly a smidge of fear.
Her eyes lifted, and she was met with a look of pure silver rage.
Uh oh.
The sphere fell and disintegrated on the forest floor, and suddenly within a blink he was before her. His hands gripped her upper arms, and before she could protest, he slammed her back against a nearby tree.
“Ow, what the fu–”
“Shh.” Elijah hissed suddenly.
“Don’t tell me to–”
“Arii, listen!”
His tone had her halting. She heard the leaves around them rustling, birds chattering in the distance, and then she heard the heavy thump of his heart. He was so close, his fingers tight on her biceps, his face inches from her own. She felt sparks ignite in her stomach as she gazed up slowly, eyes tracking up from the rip in his fighting leathers, up his lightly bearded neck, then to his strong chin – finally resting on his eyes. They were narrowed and dark, like rolling storm clouds over the sea. The anger in their depths had dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, his fingers loosening around her arms yet he still remained close. His palms pressed against the tree either side of her, and she swallowed harshly as his scent drifted over her. Salt, lake water, pine and musk.
Her eyes fluttered closed, and she pressed the back of her head to the bark. She thought back to the night they had kissed at the School of Fate after he had rescued her from Bonemire – and he had revealed his scars. He had shown a side to himself that she was sure he had never revealed to anyone else – a vulnerability she knew he hid like she did herself. The moment was raw, and she remembered the look in his eyes as he had turned to her after she finished placing kisses upon his scarred back. She wondered if he felt a flicker of the same warring emotions she had been battling with since that night. In many ways, they were much the same – both brought up being told how to feel, how to think.
Being manipulated into lying to themselves.
He shifted, causing her eyes to snap open and she saw him tilt his head, his voice low as he said, “We have company.”
She felt her spine stiffen as he glanced around the tree.
Footsteps, more than one pair in the distance, stomped through the foliage without a thought of being stealthy. She felt Elijah’s glare on her, not needing to meet his eyes to know it was accusatory.
“Red Guard soldiers, at least six of them. No doubt they heard your little show of magic. What were you thinking?”
Arii rolled her eyes. “Or perhaps it was the mini earth tremor that you caused!”
“I didn’t cause any tremors!” he hissed defensively as the footsteps grew closer.
Arii leaned back against the tree, eyes narrowed as she slid a dagger from her belt, twirling the metal through her fingers.
“Bullshit. It’s your untamed magic, Elijah – it happens when you grow angry. Haven’t you noticed the strange weather anomalies that suddenly appear around you? Thunderclaps, earth shakes?”
He was staring now, lips downturned as usual, but he remained silent.
“Your magic is so powerful, it could hurt innocent people! Another reason why you need to learn to control it,” she muttered, chancing a swift peek at the oncoming soldiers before unsheathing her second dagger and offering it to him. Countless times when she was around him in the castle had she noticed sudden booms of thunder when there were no signs of a storm in the sky. A hint, she now knew, of the colossal power hidden inside him. He had admitted to her in the library when she had first gazed upon his face that he had trouble sleeping during thunderstorms. Perhaps it was his suppressed magic keeping him up at night, the storms a reflection of his inner turmoil.
“Stay here,” he said as his fingers curled around the hilt of the offered dagger, brushing her own and causing warmth to slither up her arm. How could such a tiny touch incite such strong reactions from her body? Never had anyone coaxed so many conflicting emotions, so many feelings from within her. It was confusing. Naught a few months ago, the only feeling within her was cool indifference – hardly a ripple fluttering against her walls of stone as she watched the world through a haze of grey.
Not even Lorch had brought forth such a storm of feeling from within. It was as if Lorch had begun to thaw her defences – like a candle to ice. Elijah was a heavy silver mace – poised to shatter her wall completely. The question was, was she ready to allow that to happen? She wondered if he had any inkling of her own thunderstorm raging beneath the surface when she was in his proximity.
She pushed those thoughts aside. After a few drawn-out seconds, their gazes locked until he moved away and his expression became emotionless as the footsteps approached closer. They were being hunted after all. Now was not the time to fixate over how she felt or guess how he felt about her, like some sort of chaotic, hormonal teenager. As far as she was concerned – he probably hated her for what she had done. She had shattered all he had known, opened the door to the flood of his memories he had spent years supressing.
What she should be fixated over was why he had not slit her throat yet, and not the trained, languid grace of his body as he silently moved away, taking on all the signs of a trained warrior.
Arii estimated they were just on the outskirts of Amberbourne now, a short stroll to the gates of the town. Their clothing was still damp from the lake water, and they were in need of weapons – Elijah having been unarmed somewhere during their escape from the castle.
All they had were her daggers.
It was all they needed.
The soldiers stopped to survey the clearing, and one of the men halted by the base of the tree where Arii’s orb of magic had singed the shadow of a perfect circle in the smoking bark. The man moved his hand towards his sword – just as steel pressed against his throat.
“Lower your weapons, back away and return with your men to Viridya. Do this without a fight – and we will let you live,” whispered Elijah, his voice low and dangerous, his form materialising from the shadows of the tree that the soldier had been surveying seconds ago. The man’s eyes widened in surprise, and then narrowed in anger as his hand hovered over the pommel of his sword.
“Wolfe! You traitor,” hissed the soldier, swallowing thickly as the steel pressed deeper into his windpipe. The other soldiers were all tense, swords drawn, eyes fixed on the hulking, dark presence behind the leader of their small search party. The man, despite the threat, continued to speak, “There is a pretty hefty price on your head, Elijah, one that will set us up for years. The King wants you alive – and your little Fury bitch too.”
“You keep talking, Sykes, that is unwise.”
“We no longer take orders from you, Fae scum.”
Elijah’s shoulders tensed. His lips curled back from his teeth, unbeknownst to him showing his fangs, as his silver eyes skipped over the five soldiers staring back at him. All men he had once worked with, all men he had spoken with over maps and strategized with in the council chambers. Some he had trained himself as recruits.
Five soldiers, not six…
Weapon raised, the sixth soldier dashed from behind a nearby pine tree, letting his poised arrow fly.
Several things happened in that moment. Silver flashed across the archer’s neck – larynx opening to the air – red spraying in a bloody arch over the nearby ferns.
Then she was upon them like death riding the wind. Silver speared through the air, dagger embedding in the fifth soldier as Arii streaked across the clearing – her body a blur as she threw out a hand…
And halted the arrow in mid-air with a ripple of magic – inches from Elijah’s face.
The arrow dropped to the forest floor as she dashed at the fourth soldier, hand snapping to swipe the dagger from the previous soldier’s chest – before lodging it in the next man’s throat.
She was like a blur, golden tipped tresses a fan around her as men died before they could scream.
Then she was before the second last soldier.
Her hands grasped the man’s skull, her eyes like purple fire as her lips pulled back over her teeth in a feral snarl – a look of rage causing her features to twist as she moved to snap the soldier’s neck.
“Stop.”
It was Elijah’s voice – the only voice that could snap through her blood rage in that moment. Arii paused, her nails lightly indenting the man’s cheeks as he froze in terror, legs quaking and causing his metal armour to rattle.
Her head tilted, a lock of hair sliding behind one delicately pointed ear as she stared at Elijah, breath hissing through her clenched teeth. Her eyes flashed as they met his, challenge glimmering in their depths.
Perhaps the humans were not wrong in fearing a force such as her.
“I told you to wait.”
“And miss the fun? Unlikely…” Arii purred against the soldier’s neck, earning her an audible swallow of fear which stoked her inner beast.
“It didn’t have to be like this, Sykes. Agree to leave now and you can save this man’s life, as well as your own. All you have to do is deliver a message to the King.”
Sykes’ eyes were fixated on the Fae female before them, their depths watery with fear. When he did not respond, Elijah removed the blade and jerked the man around, before shoving him back towards his companion.
“Tell Lorch that we can talk about this and come to an understanding without any more bloodshed.”
“Is it true, what they say about you? Are you truly a Herington?” Sykes croaked, rubbing at his neck.
Elijah bristled, his shoulders lifting. “What or who I am does not matter, my long service to the King should count for something. Tell him that I am willing to speak – peacefully.”
Arii’s head turned back to the soldier in her grip, offering him a slow, full-toothed smile – showing her fangs. The man whimpered as her fingers slipped from his face and she took a step back.
“I do not want his throne. Tell him that.” Elijah added.
Arii felt her spine straighten, her brows narrowing as she stared at Elijah once more. He may not want the throne – but that did not change the fact that he was the one who was supposed to be upon it.
She was sure it was his fate.
Perhaps Freya Bloom could convince him to pursue his birthright. They could not allow Valdis to reign any longer – using his son as a political shield. The Courts had been divided for too long, the land and its people in chaos. Her head hurt at the thought of the massive task ahead of her. Not only did she have to try to convince him to believe he was good enough, and that it was his destiny to sit upon the throne and rule – but she was sure the other courts would need convincing too. The land of Fythnar needed balance – needed a strong leader upon the northern throne.
They could not face Valdis and his army of undead alone.
“Go,” snapped Elijah, his words causing Sykes to flinch before he turned to the last remaining soldier and the two men fled from the clearing.
And then his heavy gaze was upon her once more.
“What in the world is wrong with you?”
“A thank you for saving your life would be more fitting to this situation, would it not?”
Elijah sheathed the dagger in his belt before growling, “They would have retreated had you not set yourself upon them like a crazed animal!”
“Hah! Crazed animal? Elijah, they were going to kill us – despite the reward on offer. Those men live to kill our kind.”
“No wonder that is so – when you are upon them like a shadow and slitting open their throats!”
Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Old habits die hard, I’m afraid.”
“Gods, you’re truly unbelievable!” Elijah hissed as he shouldered past her, stomping in the direction they were headed before the interruption.
“I know,” she grinned, dipping to remove two swords from the fallen soldiers before skipping after him. At least they now had some weapons, she supposed.
She held her palm out to his back, asking, “I’d like my dagger back now, please.”
“You’ll get it back when we reach Evergrave. Or perhaps when you show that you can be somewhat reasonable.”
Jerk.
She cocked a middle finger at his back, bottom lip slipping forward in a mock pout as she followed in Elijah’s heavy, anger-laced footsteps. “I tried being reasonable once… I didn’t like it.”
“Fates help me,” the man muttered as they began picking their way through the shrubs.
Hawke
Shackles clinked against one another as Hawke sat up, his back propped against the stone wall of his cell. He winced, aches blooming all over his body as he blew out a breath. He felt as if he had fallen and been trampled by a stampede of horses, and the slightest shift had his body flaring with pain.
Valdis was mad, truly and twistedly so. Hawke had always had a feeling that the man was off – but he had never thought he would stoop so low as to practice necromancy, using the very magic they all feared so much. It boggled Hawke’s mind, causing nausea to roll. He had already been sick once and knowing the mess would not be cleaned up halted the bile halfway up.
Across the cell, he heard a light moan, causing his eyes to snap open.
Lynnera.
Shock jarred his body. He thought she had been taken to her rooms, not dragged to the dungeons with him.
As quickly as his howling body would allow, Hawke stood, moving to the bars to gaze across the small space between cells to where Lynnera sat. She was in the middle of the cell, her eyes squeezed closed and her hands pressed against her temples.
“Lynn,” Hawke whispered, shackles clinking against the bars as he strained to see her in the dim light. “Lynn, are you alright? What are you doing down here?”
“I fought them, Hawke, as best I could. Rather than deal with me, Valdis had me sent down here to ‘reflect on what I have done’.” the woman whispered, her voice light… broken.
“My son, how could he…” she groaned, and Hawke felt his heart squeeze. He should have gotten her out long ago, along with Sybell and Lorch – before Valdis had the chance to sink his claws into them.
Now, he feared he was too late for Lorch.
Sybell, on the other hand, perhaps there was still hope for her.
“Lynn, listen to me. We need to find a way out of here. If what we saw in the courtyard is any indication – something is about to happen and I fear we may not survive it.” He swallowed, cheek pressing against the bars. Gods, he felt twice his age in that moment, but he would rather die than let what had happened to Ingrid happen to Lynnera and his daughter. Suddenly his thoughts drifted over Arii and Elijah, and he did not blame them for fleeing the castle. It was still registering in his mind that the man who had stood by the King for so long was a Fae – and the rightful heir to the throne.
Despite the recent discovery of Eliverus’ existence, Hawke knew that the darkness in Valdis had been manifesting far longer than anyone realised.
And now, that darkness was reaching out to Lorch with his father’s influence.
“We can’t leave without Lorch.” Lynnera wailed, causing Hawke’s chest to constrict once more in sympathy.
“Valdis has a hold over him now, Lynn.”
Her blue eyes lifted, and he saw them swimming with anguish. He longed to hold her, dash the tears from her eyes and promise her a better world. Far too long had he watched the women he loved battle with pain.
“I will try to convince him, my love – but we must first get out of here and try to find somewhere safe. We need a plan. We cannot contend with Valdis’ magic. He will not hesitate to kill us next time.”
A sound caught his attention as someone approached the cells. Hawke felt his muscles tense in preparation for a fight – although he was not sure where he would find the strength. When it came to Lynnera, he would find the energy to fight, even if it meant drawing his last breath.
When dark chocolate eyes met his own just beyond the bars, he felt his insides begin to melt.
Sybell.
“Father,” she whispered, her voice low and hoarse as she reached through the bars and cupped his cheeks. “I heard the commotion in the courtyard. My Gods, what did they do to you?” Sybell’s head whipped to the sound of her mother’s cry, and she dashed to clutch the woman through the bars.
“Mother?! What is happening here?”
“Sybell, you cannot be here – if they catch you…”
Sybell straightened quickly, her spine rigid and face twisted with anger. “Keys, where are the keys?”
“Sybell, wait.”
“That conniving, two faced snake! How could Lorch lock up his own mother, and his long serving Commander?” she hissed. “I’ll get you out, father. Where do they keep the keys?”
A clink of metal followed her words, and Sybell twirled, their collective attention dashing to see a figure a few paces down the hall.
It was Lorch – and lifted in his hand were the keys to the cell.
His expression was lost in shadow, but his voice was as clear as day. “Father?” he breathed, disbelief and anger simmering in the simple word.
Sybell straightened, her chin lifting as she stared her brother down. Hawke would have felt admiration had he not seen the flash of pain in Lorch’s eyes.
“Give me the keys, Lorch – let us leave. We won’t tell Valdis.”
“Why did you call him father?” Lorch snapped, nodding in Hawke’s direction. Hawke knew the young man was not a simpleton – Lorch knew what was happening here. He just wanted Sybell to admit it.
“Lorch, please,” whispered Lynnera from her cell, her voice laced with pain. “Son, you cannot listen to your father – it’s the magic, it is twisting his mind.”
Lorch’s eyes slid to his mother, and there was a flash of anguish in their depths. He hadn’t known she was here, too.
As quickly as the look appeared, it was gone.
His lips curled back over his teeth in a look of rage none of them had ever seen on him before. Hawke was suddenly reminded of Valdis.
“Answer me!” Lorch bellowed, causing them all to wince in unison.
His mother slowly stood, pressing into the bars and attempting to meet her son’s eyes. “My darling, we wanted to tell you – we truly did.”
“Commander Hawke is Sybell’s father?” he hissed, head turning to his mother, eyes narrowed to slits. “Is he my father too?”
“No, Valdis is your father, Lorch. Sybell… well, it was a surprise to us too.” Lynnera’s eyes met Hawke’s across the space. There was no use lying or hiding it now. “I love him, son – have loved him for many years.”
Deep down, Lorch had to know that his father was not a kind man, had never been kind to his mother. He was not a product of love – he was a product of an arranged marriage. Lorch’s face did not show anger – as Hawke had thought he might. No, all he showed was cold calm as the truth hung in the air between them all. Hawke could see the subtle shift in the King’s eyes, something beyond anger as it roiled within him, sure and true.
Resolve.
“Seize my sister and put her in her own cell,” he whispered as two guards appeared behind Sybell. The girl screeched as the men grabbed her, throwing open the barred doors to a nearby cell and pushing her in roughly. Lorch strode to the door, sliding the key into the lock and clicking the latch.
Sybell threw herself against the bars, her hand shooting out to claw at her brother’s face. He stepped back, just out of reach.
“You fucking weasel!” she screamed as she slammed against the bars.
Lorch’s expression was coolly amused, bordering on bored – a look he often adopted at court. “Calm yourself sister, I’ll let you out when you simmer down… or perhaps when I feel you can be civil. Don’t hold your breath, though.” He angled his head at Hawke and his mother as he added, “Same goes for you two. This news will take some time to process.”
Dread settled in Hawke’s stomach as the dungeon doors slammed shut with a thundering boom of finality.