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Afton
A new feeling washed over Afton as she headed toward the kitchens. Disappointment? If Ragan hadn’t been Thorin, she would have been searching for him, anxious to take him to her bedroom, the lake behind the palace, or one of the walls in the kitchens. Then she and Silver would have prepared for their swapped roles in Enare, in which her sister would have excelled perfectly. But no need for that now, even though she’d agreed for them to travel to Enare. Part of her should have said no, and not because Thorin was there, but because Silver wouldn’t be able to use any magic. Then at night... That strange energy...
Afton should have lied about everything to Silver, but she couldn’t. She had planned on concealing Ragan’s true identity, yet that wouldn’t have lasted long—Silver would have questioned why he hadn’t returned to working the kitchens. Despite all that, Silver could be stubborn and would have left for Enare alone.
Thorin’s face came to her then, how she would kiss him awake in places that would make him groan, how he would surprise her with new things he’d cooked.
Afton shrugged it off—she needed to forget seeing him like that and find a distraction, another body to stop her from thinking or feeling, like she used to do. The village’s monthly full moon celebration began at nightfall, so for now, she would comfort herself with eating, then later she’d get lost in warm skin.
As for Keelen, she was certain he’d taken the tonic—his expression was different, knowing, softer. Whatever memories of Silver he’d had before blossomed back. Silver didn’t know yet either—perhaps it was better that way. Silver wouldn’t have to focus on him when there were more important things at hand.
The scent of roasted lamb drifted through the air, and Afton inhaled the delicious aroma. As she entered the kitchens, Jeanette was drizzling gravy onto the meat. Her graying hair was pulled back in a disarrayed bun, and brown stains spotted her apron.
Jeanette’s gaze met Afton’s, and the woman offered her a soft smile. “Ragan hasn’t returned yet.”
Afton frowned, picking up a knife to cut into the browned meat, her tone clipped. “He won’t be back. We’ll have to find someone else to cover his shifts.”
“I see.” Jeanette plucked a potato from a basket and started slicing it into thin slivers.
“You can take leave for the rest of the day.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.” Jeanette’s smile remained gentle. “I never thought you and your sister looked alike, but with that hair, you’re the spitting image of her and your—” She winced, stopping herself.
Father. That was what Jeanette was going to say. If she had finished that sentence, Afton would have said something that wouldn’t have easily been forgotten. When Jeanette had found out what Afton’s parents had done to Shani, the woman hadn’t stood up to them either. But how could she? Afton’s parents would have done worse than silence her daughter, they would have slaughtered Shani in front of Jeanette.
“Shani’s bringing the carriage around to the back.” Afton knew Jeanette was desperate to see her daughter by the way she kept gnawing on her lip.
With a nod, Jeanette untied her apron and left Afton standing alone in the kitchens. Peering at the steaming meat and setting down the knife, Afton extended her claws and sliced into its tenderness. Even though she tried not to think about Thorin when he pretended to be a servant named Ragan, her mind wouldn’t listen.
“I like the feel of your body on mine.” Ragan smirked.
Afton straddled his hips and leaned in closer to him, yearning to press her lips to his. She desperately wanted her first kiss to be given to him, even if she believed she deserved no one. Biting the inside of her cheek, she forced herself to nip at his collarbone instead. “I prefer when you’re inside me,” she purred.
“Mmm.” He lifted her chin. “I never want to share you with anyone.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled her neck.
“I’m yours.” Since meeting Ragan, she’d only wanted her body given to him, had only wanted his words whispered in her ear.
She lifted her body then lowered it, taking all of him in—he groaned—she moaned—as he filled her with pleasure and something far, far richer.
Afton ripped the lamb with her claws as hard as she could. She was glad she hadn’t given him her kisses because the bastard had already taken everything else. Thorin was just another lover to add to her past. That was all. One who could easily be replaced.
“Afton, no one will ever truly love you. It will always be that way because you’re queen, and even then, you will always wonder if that’s the only reason they love you,” her mother cooed.
Perhaps her mother had been right about one thing. She wasn’t meant to be loved.
Afton shut her bedroom door and stepped into the hallway. She’d wrapped her hair in a low bun at the nape of her neck and wore a simple dress and cloak so no one at the celebration would notice her. She brought the cloak’s hood over her head, concealing her eyes until she found another warm body. When she returned, she would change her hair back to white-blonde. For now, the black would do.
As Afton descended the stairs, sounds of banging metal echoed in the weapons room. She peered through the open door. Keelen held two blades, striking them against each other.
“Where is everyone?” Afton called as she hovered at the door with her arms crossed. “Aren’t you supposed to be watching over my sister?”
“She’s with Javan in his office,” he said, setting down the blades. His hand fell to a glass jar with spiders crawling inside as he looked at her. “Why are you dressed like you’re in hiding?”
Afton leaned forward, lips parting, and ignored his question about her clothing. “Why do you have a jar of spiders?”
“Silver brought them to me.” He straightened his tunic, something flickering in his gaze. She could see through his act. It was as if he knew something.
“Release the spiders outside.”
“I was planning on it. It seems I no longer have an appetite for them.”
He ate them before? Ate them? And her sister was fine with that?
Dropping her arms to her sides, she ignored anything else on that matter and stepped toward him. “You drank the tonic.” It wasn’t a question.
Keelen’s eyes shifted away from hers and he shook his head. “I’m not going to drink it.”
She clicked her nails against the table. “You’re lying. Tell me what you remember.”
He clenched his jaw, but after a few moments he caved. With a sigh, Keelen shut the door. “Nothing from outside of Ketill. But I remember Silver. I remember being the raven she created. I remember Silver’s stories about you and seeing you when she carried me in her pocket. I remember everything about when I was here before. Every time.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You were around me in the past?”
“Sometimes.” He shrugged.
The thought of being spied on made her blood boil. It cooled quickly, though, because it had been Silver’s doing.
His face strained as if he was somewhere else instead of in this room.
“What else is bothering you?” she asked.
“I don’t fucking know yet. It’s all still muddled.” His aggravated tone softened with the next three words. “Everything but her.”
This was worse than she’d imagined. The fool really was in love with her sister. And she’d known it even before he could remember. “Does she know?”
“Know what?” Keelen’s violet gaze caught hers. The face Silver had created for him was pleasant to look at, yet it wasn’t what had gotten her sister’s attention. It must have been from how he’d treated her when he was a raven, but from what Afton had seen thus far from him, he was all angles and edges, and she didn’t like broken glass.
“Does Silver know you’re in love with her?” Afton hissed.
His eyes widened and shot toward the closed door. “No...” He exhaled. “And she won’t.”
Afton reeled in the magic, her heart thrumming as she released her claws and sharpened teeth. “You’re supposed to be her guard. Nothing more. Hear me?” Caring for someone as a friend was one thing, but lusting after someone would only distract him.
He glared at her and changed the subject. “There’s another thing.”
“What is it?” It couldn’t be worse than finding out that the softness she knew he’d felt for Silver went far deeper.
“Silver and Javan know I can feel the magic here. I always could, but I can’t wield it.”
Afton relaxed, her shoulders loosening. “Plenty of people in Ketill can. It could be from when Silver brought you here, her magic entangling with you.”
“Maybe.”
“Guard her. Keep her safe. That’s all you have to do.”
“With my life,” he repeated his earlier words.
He’d better fucking do that.
Afton turned on her heels and headed outside. A gust of cool wind blew past her. She wasn’t one to go to these celebrations, only a few times with Silver in the past when she’d begged her to, then recently with Thorin. Afton had always pretended not to care about it, but when the moon rose high into the sky at its fullest, there was something fascinating about that.
She ventured down several curved paths and around leafless trees preparing for winter. Afton would have taken one of the horses, but they were almost as recognizable as she was. Her gaze trained on the trees once more and she squinted at them. They weren’t only without leaves—they looked like they were ... dying.
With a gasp, she took the pebbled path to the stream and followed it to the celebration, studying each tree along the path. Most appeared fine, but some sprinkled in with sickly shades. Afton brushed the thoughts away. She was choosing to believe something was wrong, but it wasn’t. Thorin had planted these seeds in her mind.
As she slipped closer to the festivities, the savory aromas of cooking meat filled the air, mingling with laughter and music. The beats of drums and the sounds of flutes soared through the woods. Between the trees, people in the distance danced and stared up at the darkening sky, the moon already rising. The last two full moon celebrations, she’d danced with Thorin. Before that, she’d never danced with anyone. Dancing with him had filled her with a different kind of rush, more than lust, like she was falling and flying all at once, the sensation leaving her body humming its own harmonious song. Light and dark. Entwined.
Thorin’s cottage nestled the riverside, and she half expected him to be sitting on his porch steps, waiting for her as always. But of course, he wasn’t.
She’d always met him there, then he would lead her inside. Make her tea. That only reminded her of making Thorin’s tea in Enare. She was about to turn away, find a body to make her forget all that had happened when something in her veins pulsed, like a whisper. A feather soft caress that wasn’t innocent at all. A breeze blew past her and a light scent, grassy and smoky, tickled her nose. Peering around, she didn’t see anyone else, but she knew that strange pull of energy. Then it stopped.
Afton hadn’t brought her mace, so she slipped two daggers from her cloak as she headed to Thorin’s cottage. From experience, she knew it was easy to stab and lose a single weapon, which was why she always carried a spare. Usually, it was her mace and a hidden dagger. Her sister still chose not to arm herself, even when Afton reprimanded her.
Extending her claws and teeth, she went up the steps and turned the knob. Locked. The magic of Ketill thrummed its regular heartbeat, and she tapped into it, reeling it forward. Using invisible fingertips, she reached through the door and unbolted the lock.
As the door opened, the sensation hit her again—this time, the strange energy thrumming stronger. Thorin’s musky aroma lingered. Narrowing her eyes, she scanned the room. Two candles rested on the middle of a table in front of the two chairs. She picked up one of the candles and lit the wick with her fingertips.
Holding it in front of her, she walked into the small dining area. Pots and pans littered the top of the stove, and in front of the cabinets ... something curled on the floor. The creature’s skeleton peeked through its dark gray skin, and paper-thin wings were tucked at its back.
Afton inhaled sharply—she’d never seen anything like it. A sensation tickled her palms, then spread. Darkness. That familiar draw tugged at her like it had in Enare.
Afton shook her arms to make it stop, pretend she’d imagined it, but it was still there.
As she stepped closer to the creature, the thing lurched forward. Blackened lips, eyes wholly white, and small pointed horns protruding from its head—it was an imp like the ones described in the Valgmyr story. How? She stumbled back, baring her teeth, lifting her claws, and growled. The imp appeared even more skeletal now that it was on its feet, its gray wings expanding. The creature stood to her mid-thigh.
The same energy that she’d felt in Enare hammered within her again, growing stronger. Here. In Ketill.
With a lunge, Afton struck, her claws poised to disembowel the creature. But faster still, the imp was gone, disappearing through the ceiling.
Not possible...
Afton wouldn’t let the bastard get away. She ran out the door to dip into the earth’s magic. She would kill it from the inside out like she’d done to the rats in the tunnel. But as she threw her head back toward the night sky, there was nothing there. Not any sign of a creature flying. She hurried to inspect the roof, only to find it bare.
The energy was no longer roaring—only the comforting magic of her home remained.
Afton’s heart caught in her throat. Even though she wished Thorin had been lying about this, her territory, she knew now he hadn’t.
Anger coursed through her veins as she stared up at the darkness, freckled with bright, glistening diamonds surrounding the full moon. The Valgmyr tale wasn’t only a story after all. She would find the Valgmyr King and his imps, then gut them before they could destroy Ketill.
From above, she knew the merciless stars were watching her. Let them. She would find a way to pluck them from the sky and dim them for all eternity.
