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Afton
The carriage jostled as it traveled out of Ketill and into Enare. Afton sat across from Javan, ignoring his face, and listening to the uneven gallop of the horses’ hooves. Shani was outside the carriage, driving it forward. Afton wondered how angry her sister was—they’d never been apart for even a full day. Even when Afton had stayed in her room for days upon days, her sister had always been within the same castle walls. But this was necessary—she needed to see for herself how safe Enare’s castle was first, so they could be prepared when arriving later.
Then there’d been Ragan’s letter beneath her door that morning, saying he would be taking off for a few days to visit his family and he would see her again soon. She’d wanted to find him and slap him, or kiss him, or perhaps both. But at least she wouldn’t have to lie to him about what she was doing.
No other servant would have dared to leave a note under her door over the years, but after Ragan had snuck and done it the first time, Afton had been more impressed than angry. So she’d allowed it to continue.
Afton removed her silk head wrap and relaxed into the seat with a sigh.
“I don’t think this is smart, Your Highness,” Javan grumbled, his gaze locking on her raven-colored hair. Needless to say, when she’d woken him this morning, he was more annoyed than anything.
“I think it is,” she snapped, shifting her long braid over her shoulder so he could catch a better glimpse of her hair. From everything that transpired the night before, exhaustion still lingered, her eyelids hard to keep open. She pinched the soft flesh between her index finger and thumb to push away the fatigue.
“As your guard—”
“I listen to no one—” she interrupted.
“But yourself, I know.” He sighed, cutting her off right back. “You remind me so much of your mother.”
“My mother is dead.” Afton leaned forward, and in a low voice said, “And I would gladly be the cause of that again.” She hadn’t needed to draw up dark magic to shatter her parents’ hearts into a million pieces, but she had. Her heart had been monstrous enough toward them already—she wanted to feel their hearts in her grasp. That evening, she’d wanted to tear into their chests with her claws, sink her teeth into their throats. But she’d needed to be careful, not get too close. So during the night, the one time she’d ever tapped into dark magic, she let her shadow slide out of her, reaching and stretching with those blackened hands until they pressed against both her parents’ chests. Inhaling and exhaling. Afton had made sure their lungs would never pump again. Before their eyes had cracked open, she thrust the extension of herself inside them. Their choked surprises had radiated through the night. She’d squeezed and crushed until the organs exploded beneath her grip.
Beautiful silence had filled the room. Relief had filled her. Not a lingering sense of regret or remorse. Her sister wouldn’t have to suffer any longer, and that had mattered most.
“You’ll be a much better mother to your children,” Javan murmured finally, staring out the window as though he was conjuring up a past memory.
“I will never have children, so you can put an end to that dream.” Her parents loved each other deeply, so deeply that they didn’t think about anyone else besides each other. Not their people, not their daughters—no one. That was why she’d never wanted to fall in love. Because how could two people love each other so fully yet treat everyone in their territory as if they were nothing? But then, she’d betrayed herself by falling in love anyway. It hadn’t come easy, and it hadn’t been without struggle for her to accept that she had.
“Why didn’t you choose someone else to replace you instead of Silver?” Javan asked, changing the subject to something less arguable. “Or better yet, not swap at all? This seems dangerous and excessive.”
“I’m not afraid.”
Lie. It was a lie. She liked to believe—desperately wanted to believe—she was afraid of nothing, but really, she was. She was terrified of her sister’s fate if Ketill was under Enare’s authority. “Silver already knows what to do if something happens to me.”
Javan leaned back in his seat, brushing his fingers across the head of his cane. “You haven’t even met King Thorin yet. He could be worse than you think.”
“Fuck King Thorin.” Afton had met his foolish guards and if the rest were like them, they would easily end up the same—dead. She would allow her hatred to surface for her enemy, the way it had for her parents. Except their hearts would be torn out and eaten.
“That is exactly why it’s dangerous,” Javan whispered, his body edging closer toward hers. His scowl softened, and he appeared as if he wanted to comfort her. “You’re going to have to watch that tongue of yours. You are a great queen, you treat our people fairly, and I don’t want us to lose you.”
Something in Afton’s chest tightened, and then like always, she remembered their past. Javan standing against the wall, watching, watching, and watching, doing nothing as she burned her sister.
“As a guard, and only a guard, you will obey me,” she said slowly. “Do not think because you are blood that it means anything to me. You have no right to tell me what to do. And if I recall, you’re lucky I didn’t remove your head for not once protecting Silver.” Her voice was low, serious, so he would understand that she wouldn’t allow him to question her like he had in the past. Afton rarely let herself think of him as her grandfather—he was her mother's father, and it meant nothing.
“It would have only made things worse.”
“For who? You?” she spat, finally getting this off her chest after all these years.
“You wouldn’t understand.” He peered down at his hands, studying his clean nails. As though those nails were more important to look at than her. Just as he would do when her parents had requested her to do something vicious to her sister. At that time, he’d been their parents’ guard, not hers.
Until afterward.
Javan had been one of the most skilled guards, even without magic. Why had he done nothing? She hadn’t discovered he was their grandfather until after murdering her parents, and she’d left Silver in the dark about it because she hadn’t wanted to see the defeat on her sister’s face when she learned another family member had made her suffer.
Even though Silver resembled their father, it didn’t matter—she still looked like Silver. Afton loved her deeply, fiercely. She’d left Keelen with Silver because her sister had wanted Afton to trust her about him, and if he was as good of a friend as she said he was, then he would be a perfect guard for her. However, she was still furious that Silver had used dark magic to bring his soul there.
Afton remained quiet, as did Javan, yet her nostrils continued to flare. What she needed in that moment was Ragan’s warm body against her, inside her, to soothe her, take the stress away for a few stolen moments. But that wouldn’t happen until the journey was over.
Before the tense silence could snap, Afton glanced toward Javan, his eyes closed, but she knew he wasn’t sleeping. “We’re going to stay the night. I need to get a feel of what lies within the castle walls.”
His lids flicked open, his spine straightening. “Too risky. Accept the betrothal and return.”
“No”—she shook her head—“my way.”
“You’re going to be the death of me,” Javan groaned, clenching his jaw. Afton was surprised none of his teeth had broken over the years from repeating that motion so often.
“One way or another, that will be true.” Finished talking, she shut her lids and let the carriage jostle her as it continued its journey along the barren countryside, nothing but brown hills as far as the eye could see.
“Afton.”
Her eyes jerked open to a deep voice. She swung her hand forward, aiming for the throat of the possible danger.
“Nightmare?” A cane lifted just in time to block her arm. Javan’s brow was arched as he eyed her pointed fingernails. “We’re here.”
He was right—there had been a nightmare. The same one of her burning her sister’s flesh over and over again while Silver screamed. Taking a deep swallow, Afton’s body relaxed, but she didn’t drop her hand as she peered out the tiny glass window of the carriage.
A looming castle of gray and cream stone sat before her, with rows of dead rose bushes in the gardens. Sinewy trees, empty of leaves, swept across the area and a small pond, where ravens perched on its shore, was across from the dead bushes. Tall pyramid-shaped towers steepled the top of the palace, iron bars surrounding several of them.
Fury gripped her heart as she gazed up at the castle. This bastard king would surely trap her there if she’d planned on actually marrying him.
“Most of Enare is like this. All the plant life seems to be dead or withering,” Javan said.
“I’m sure the king is the cause of it as well.”
Shani opened the carriage door, her dark hair disheveled from the journey. Afton started to step out when a hand pulled her back.
“Wrong move. I’m still your guard,” Javan said as he pushed in front of her and hopped down.
Afton pursed her lips, but walked beside him toward the palace doors. Shani remained silent at her other side. Afton clearly remembered her parents forcing Shani to be silenced forever by removing her tongue and stripping her vocal cords away. Shani had done nothing wrong, only arrived at the palace late because her father had died. If Afton could conjure Shani’s voice and tongue up from the earth and give them back to her, she would.
The tick-ticking she normally felt pulsing inside her in Ketill wasn’t thrumming the least bit here. There wasn’t the slightest movement or pinch of energy, as if the earth itself was dead. There was nothing. Worry stormed through her—she couldn’t extract her claws or teeth. She could do nothing but use her mace if needed. Relief washed over her once more—she’d done the right thing by leaving Silver at home.
Realizing she was tilting her chin too high, Afton lowered it at a downward angle, then proceeded to carry herself the way Silver would have. A bit willowier, her feet lighter, her chin leveled.
Outside the castle stood two guards dressed in black tunics and pants, both of them quiet, their eyes watching them in a way that didn’t seem human. Strange. She tightened her grip on her mace.
Javan puffed his chest forward. “We have come on behalf of Queen Afton to speak with King Thorin regarding the betrothal request.”
A tall guard with her red hair pulled into a long braid stepped forward and opened the door. She didn’t say a single word as she guided them inside the castle walls. Empty vases and withered plants filled the wide-open room, and a faint smoky and grassy scent greeted her. Massive quilts with unique, colorful designs hung across the tall walls that connected to a dome-shaped ceiling. Javan gripped his cane and eyed the guards with suspicion while Shani pressed a hand to the dagger at her waist. He’d only been using the cane for a month, but Javan still managed to have quick reflexes. Besides for his sword, he could easily release the blade hidden within his walking stick.
The guard guided them down a long hallway—decorated with ornate metal flowers—to the first door. She, Javan, and Shani stepped inside a large oval sitting room. In the middle of the space was a grand circular table, surrounded by iron chairs with blue velvet cushioning. The sound of the door closing caused her to glance back and notice the guard was now missing.
No one took a seat. They each held their weapons, and Afton peered up at the paintings lining the walls. They were pitiful. All portraits with misshapen faces, too long noses, drooping eyes. It was odd... Everything about being here seemed out of place. Afton tried again to tap into the magic, deeper into the earth where any ounce of it could be hidden. Not even a drop was there.
“I can’t feel anything,” she whispered so low that she wasn’t sure if Javan could hear her.
“Hmm?” He removed his gaze from a portrait and studied Afton. Javan wouldn’t have known anyway because he’d never been able to feel it.
“No magic.”
“I knew this was an awful idea.” His throat bobbed as he looked from her to their exit, then turned to Shani. “And you?”
Shani shook her head. The woman had always felt the magic but couldn’t draw it in to use. Perhaps if she could, she would have stopped Afton’s parents from silencing her.
Is it possible magic can be used up?
The door swung open, interrupting her thoughts. In walked the same female guard and the other man who had been outside the castle with her. He appeared close to her age with darker red hair tied back in a low ponytail.
As she gazed back up at the paintings, she couldn’t hold her tongue and apparently needed to be the first to speak. “The portraits are ... awful.” Afton could feel Javan’s heated stare. She wasn’t pretending to be a servant, so she could still say things as they were.
“I would have to agree.” The voice was familiar. It was a voice Afton would remember anywhere. A voice that whispered to her in the dark, lips on her throat, his heart beating beneath her hand. It was a voice she had loved—loved until this moment.
Afton spun to face Ragan as he stepped into the room, dressed all in black.
“Ragan?” she inhaled sharply. “What are you doing here?”
“This is my home.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his piercing brown eyes meeting hers. “I couldn’t tell you before, Afton.”
Afton... What a fool she was. She was here trying to impersonate Silver, and this bastard, who cracked open her heart, was standing in her enemy’s castle. A traitorous spy. She exchanged a glance with Javan and Shani who appeared to be as stunned as she was.
She would feign as though it didn’t affect her, as if she didn’t love him. “Has His Majesty chosen not to grace us with his presence today?”
“He’s standing right here before you,” he said, his fingers tapping against his legs as though he was nervous.
Afton couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Ragan—King Thorin? Her heart felt like it would burst in her chest, but she was determined not to show him her anguish. Had everything been a lie? How could she have been so stupid? Her teeth and claws were itching to be released, but the magic here was dead.
She knew Thorin’s father had died before he was crowned as king. But from the way he continued to take care of his people, then recently sending guards to snatch her, he was just as deceitful as his father. Ragan had been at her castle when the guards—his guards—had come. She was always careful about who she allowed to work in the palace. What a fantastic imposter he was.
“What do you want with Queen Afton?” Javan asked, removing the sword at his waist. Shani mirrored his movements with her own blade.
“Yes, Your Highness. What do you want with me?” Afton seethed. “Do you want this betrothal? Because it’s not happening, so you can fuck right off.”
Thorin’s brow furrowed as he glanced between the three of them. “I’m not going to harm any of you. There is something you don’t know about Enare.”
“Is that why you sent messengers to capture and bring me back here? Because they were ready to haul me off to be your bride before I tore them to pieces.” Afton growled, her lips pressing in to a thin line.
He sighed, his expression unreadable. “They weren’t meant to do it in that way.”
She lifted her mace, ready to use it, despite everything she’d felt for him in the past.
“In what way were they supposed to do it, then?” Javan asked, his voice sharp, his teeth gritted. He stepped closer to Afton. “Bring you shackled to her territory instead, then have a proper wedding?” She’d never seen Javan so furious, and she rather liked seeing his feathers ruffled.
Thorin blew out a breath and rubbed at his temple. “They were supposed to give you a letter. That was all.” He paused, his brown gaze locking on hers. “If I had known what they were doing, I would have slaughtered them myself.”
Afton dug her fingernails into her palms, her eyes narrowing. She couldn’t take her stare off him, her heart feeling too exposed, and that only made her hate him.
“I guess we won’t be needing this anymore.” Afton fished out the sealed envelope from her satchel and tore it in half before dropping the betrothal document on the floor. She gave a wide grin, laced with venom, stretching her cheeks. “Javan, Shani, I think we’re done here.”
“Wait!” Thorin shouted, his face desperate.
“No waiting,” Afton said. “We’re going back to Ketill.”
“Please stay,” he rushed the words out, moving toward her.
She swung her mace, barely missing his neck as he shifted back.
Thorin held up a hand, his eyes pleading. “Wait until the evening, to see what happens at night, and you’ll understand. That’s why I needed you to come here.”
Afton took a step back, shaking her head. Was he mad? What was he asking? “You have been lying like a coward in my castle for months. Why didn’t you tell me there? On any number of occasions?” she said between clenched teeth.
“Would you have come?”
“No.” Not after being betrayed by him. Not after his gentle caresses against her naked skin, or his soft words spoken in her ear.
“Let my guards show you a room, and tonight, come to me in the garden alone, and I’ll explain everything. You won’t believe anything I say until you see it for yourself.”
Javan shook his head no. Afton wanted to say no, too, but something in that gaze, his pleading expression, made the part of her that still wanted to give all of herself to him, cave. “For one night, we’ll stay, and this reason better be a good one.” She held up a finger. “But try anything, and I’ll tear open your rib cage, understand?”
“Of course.” He gave her a small smile, his shoulders relaxing. “I’d like to keep my rib cage where it is.”
She didn’t smile in return.
“For now,” Thorin continued when he must have realized Afton was done talking to him, “one of the guards will take you to the guest rooms.”
Afton nodded and watched as Thorin held her gaze for a few seconds then backed out of the room, his shoulders now stiff.
“He should be dead for what he’s done,” Javan said.
Shani rubbed her lower lip and pointed to her face. She’d read something truthful in Thorin’s eyes that Afton had seen too.
“Let’s find out what these miracle reasons are for his treachery.” Afton frowned, lowering her mace only a fraction.
After a moment, the male guard motioned them to follow and led them down several hallways with elegant carpet and pale green walls. Javan and Shani were shown to two rooms across from Afton’s own before the guard left them without a word.
Shaking her head, Afton went into her room and shut the door. A musty smell struck her nose. Pushed up against the far wall was a dresser and desk—across from them rested a canopy-covered bed. Cobwebs dangled in almost every corner. She glided her finger down the top of the dresser and came away with dust. Someone needs to clean here.
Before she could sink down onto the bed, a knock sounded at her door. Her heart beat wildly, a part of her hoping it was Thorin. She shoved that blasted thought down and tugged open the door, coming face to face with Javan instead.
Brushing past her, he mumbled, “I don’t think we should stay the night here.”
“You’re right across the hall.” Afton lifted her mace. “You and I both know that the three of us are able to protect ourselves.”
“You wouldn’t have lasted playing Silver’s role anyway.” He tilted his head. “She smiles. You don’t.”
She bared her teeth for him.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re not going alone to meet him tonight.”
“It depends on my mood. If I do go, I’ll bring Shani. Either way, I don’t want to see you until morning.” Afton wouldn’t bring either one. She would go alone, then decide if what Thorin had hidden was worth his treachery.
