| |
Afton
Afton cracked open her eyes and blinked several times to clear the blurriness. Above her was a gold ceiling with a large ivory lantern hanging from its center. Her head lolled to the side to a glass door where bright light spilled inside.
Her pupils focused on the glass and what was hovering outside of it. A female imp stood on the ledge, peering into the room with its white eyes fixed on her. Afton hissed, flinging the blankets back, and got into a crouched position to retrieve her dagger. It wasn’t where it should have been, and she remembered hurling the blade and it piercing Thorin’s—the Valgmyr King’s—neck. The Valgmyr King ... Ragan. The name by which she’d known him for months.
She flicked her gaze to the glass door again, but the skeletal creature was no longer there. Leaping from the bed, Afton threw the gold curtains shut, bathing the room in a light orange. She moved back toward the bed and halted in her place. The imps could crawl, fly, through walls. And there hadn’t just been one, there’d been many.
Ragan had flown her from Enare to Valgmyr, but she didn’t remember him bringing her to a room, much less laying her in a bed and covering her with blankets. But she did recall the energy lacing within her body, attaching itself to her. As if in answer, it sang softly to her, and she gritted her teeth and tapped into its depths. This time, she penetrated the energy. Afton couldn’t contain her feral smile as she extended her claws, going deeper into the alluring energy to lower her razor teeth. The energy no longer felt rotted or wrong—it seemed a part of her, more so than the magic in Ketill.
The room, in what could only be Valgmyr’s castle, wasn’t as she expected it to be. The space was colored in bright golds and stark whites. A wardrobe double her height was opposite the bed, and a desk and velvet chair were pressed up against the wall on the other side of the room. The space was organized, clean—the way she always kept hers. A notebook with a quill beside it on the desk in the corner were the only things out. She narrowed her eyes at the notebook. It was her diary. The one she would write in at night before falling asleep.
Afton swiped it up from the desk and flipped through the pages, seeing her handwriting, her words, her thoughts.
“I didn’t read it,” a deep voice said from behind her.
Whirling around, Afton dropped the diary on the desk and lifted her claws before even settling her gaze on Ragan. She hadn’t heard him open the door.
He stood there, shirtless, his dark wings closed at his back, his horns curling at his forehead, his dark eyes blazing. Even though his features were exactly the same, the horns and the wings somehow enhanced that beauty.
Afton swung her clawed hand forward, gashing him across the chest. Blood blossomed at the surface of his skin, deep lines etched there, then they started to close, the crimson lingering.
“Do it again if you must.” He sighed. “You did already stab me in the throat.” From his pocket, he fished out her dagger, and tossed it onto the desk.
Afton wanted to grab the blade and hurl it at him, but what would be the point? He would only heal again. She picked up the dagger and slid it into her dress pocket, where it belonged.
“You have me here. Now what?” she seethed.
“I know you don’t trust me, and I deserve that. However, I want you to at least understand. So will you come with me?” he asked. “Then you can decide if you still want to rip out my organs.”
“Javan died because of your energy,” she said, unable to disguise the glimpse of emotion that came out. He may not have been dead when they left him, but she knew he was now.
Ragan’s gaze softened. “It wasn’t because of that. Like I said, his heart wasn’t going to survive much longer. I’m truly sorry, Afton.”
“What of the imps?” she spat, ending any more discussion about Javan. “One was hovering at the window.”
“They don’t come into the castle, but they will be where we’re going.” He turned on his bare feet and started down the hallway, leaving the decision up to her.
With a growl, she tightened her fists and followed behind him. She easily caught up to Ragan and gripped him by the arm. “What about my sister?”
“She’s safe. The imps knocked her out with their energy, but she should be awake by now. Come on. You can ask me all the questions you want when we get there.”
“So you can lie again?” she asked, incredulous.
“No more lies.”
Sure, you ass... She released her tight grip on his arm, and he started walking again. Clenching her jaw, she padded behind him.
White and gold spilled down the hallway of the castle. In neat rows along the walls hung golden imps in kneeling positions, their hands at their knees, their faces shaped differently. From the ceiling, pearl lanterns dangled with green light burning inside. A flowery aroma swept through the area, and she inhaled the comforting scent.
Afton’s gaze fell to Ragan’s back, noticing his strong muscles, the way his back flexed around his tucked wings, remembering the way she’d dug her nails so deeply into him when her pleasure had struck. She peered down at the marble floor instead.
They reached what appeared to be a sitting room with a gray cloth settee and two cushioned chairs. A large fur rug rested in front of a fireplace, where flames the color of foliage burned. But there wasn’t a log in sight. The walls were gold and white striped, empty of any decorations. She turned her stare back to the fireplace, wondering how many others Ragan had brought here to bed in front of it. She wanted to not care, but jealousy stormed through her, and she clenched her jaw tighter.
The front door pulled open, catching her attention. She hurried and met him outside. Her eyes squinted at the bright light, and a familiar scent washed over her. It was the same one from before—a smokiness combined with something grassy.
Her eyes widened as she followed him down the steps in silence to a wide-open area. The stories weren’t wrong—there was so much green and brown everywhere. Above her, branches entwined with ivory roses and edelweiss. The edelweiss reminded her of the meadow beside her castle at home. Like in the story, Valgmyr’s castle and everything within it was trapped beneath the weaved branches. There wasn’t a single space she could fit through if she wanted to escape. She was like a raven trapped within a cage.
“It’s protected by magic,” Ragan said. “No weapon can pierce it.”
“That’s funny,” she replied, “I distinctly remember it opening when we arrived before passing out.”
“The imps can open it to leave. I can’t.” Another sigh escaped him.
Afton studied his expression hard, wishing he were lying about that.
She surveyed the rest of the area, finding not a single tree in sight. Instead, there were topiaries and bushes of the greenest greens covering every inch of land. Perfectly-shaped stags that were at least five times taller than her, stallions that appeared to be running, ravens with large wings spread. Goats, chickens, griffons, and dragons were sprinkled throughout the space. More even farther. Vines ran up the walls of the limb barrier, and bushes weaved together along the bottom of it. It was ... it was ... the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
“All my life I’ve been trapped here,” Ragan said, pulling her out of her staring spell. “After the true Thorin died down here, the imps gave me four months to bring you or your sister here. I wasted the first month by sending you letters, knowing you wouldn’t show, knowing it would give me time away from here. But when you didn’t reply to a single one, it only drove my curiosity. Then when I met you, I wanted to prolong this even more, wanted to prolong you hating me, until I knew there wasn’t much time left.”
He turned away from her and glanced up at the branches, then walked away again. This time leaving her with a pit in her stomach—she didn’t want to feel sorry for him. Couldn’t feel sorry for him. She had to go in a different direction, to clear her head for a moment.
Afton made her way toward one of the topiaries—a fierce raven with its wings frozen in mid-flight and its beak open. A rustling stirred, then it shuffled in her direction. The greens of its leaves darkened to black, hidden red orbs for eyes flaring to life, its wings lifting higher. But it wasn’t only the raven, they were all edging toward her, their leaves completely black.
She moved. They moved.
She stopped. They stopped.
“Do not travel another inch,” Ragan whispered in her ear, his warm breath tickling her neck. “I should have warned you beforehand not to go near them.”
He stepped backward, taking her with him. The leaves of black returned to green, the topiaries retreating to their previous positions.
Nostrils flaring, chest heaving, Afton spun around to face him. “Perhaps if you’d mentioned there were garden animals willing to rip my head off, I wouldn’t have.”
He rolled his gaze to the branches above them, as if he were irritated with her.
“Why do you have that look on your face?” She placed her palms on her hips.
He pressed a hand at his forehead and shook his head. “This isn’t the greatest of days. Just please come, Afton.” The way he said her name seemed to hold regret, like he wished things could be different.
She did too.
They trekked through the grass, past tall and willowy trees laden with fruit. All Afton could think about was how Silver was faring. Keelen was with her, but she would discover Javan was dead, and Afton wanted to be there for Silver, to show her the emotions she always wanted to see. To tell her that she loved her and would do anything for her. But that wasn’t an option.
“How were you able to disguise your eyes? Silver and I could never once alter ours.”
“Valgmyr energy.” He shrugged. “You could do it now if you wanted.”
What would be the point of that?
As they rounded the castle, Afton took in the sight before her and halted. “What is this?” Her gaze widened as she peered at a lake. But they weren’t the only ones there. It was surrounded by hundreds of other people. All still. All the same pose—both feet on the ground, their hands at their sides. Like statues.
Afton had slain enemies who had come into her territory in ways that would give others nightmares for the rest of their lives, but this was even more disturbing.
Blowing out a breath, Afton walked past Ragan to a short female. She wore a simple green gown with dark buttons down the center, her curly brown hair just past her shoulders. Reaching forward, Afton touched the woman’s wrist, expecting to feel hardness. But the skin was as soft as hers.
She whirled around, lips parted. “Are they alive?”
Ragan shook his head as he stepped beside her. “No. They’re all dead. Their souls are no longer here.” He paused. “We’re the only ones in Valgmyr except the imps. My brother used to be, but after you and I arrived, I found out he’s no longer here...”
“Your brother? You really do have a sibling?” Her eyebrows shot up, and she thought about the day they’d had tea in Enare, when he’d said he would have done what she had to her parents to help a sibling. “And where is he now?”
“Rory’s dead.” He nodded straight ahead, his eyes growing glassy. “I don’t know what happened. But I found him like this. I shouldn’t have left him here alone...”
Afton’s gaze settled on a male who looked similar to Ragan, only his brown hair fell just below his chin, his facial features softer, his body leaner.
“I’m sorry,” she said, surprising herself. To lose a sibling would have destroyed Afton, could do the same with anyone. Even with an enemy she’d murdered, she knew people would mourn them. But choices always had to be made.
“He was all I had down here, and I didn’t appreciate his company as much as I should have.”
“What about the company of the others? Did you enjoy them?” She hated that she had to go there, when she knew how he was feeling, but with all the bodies surrounding them, it was necessary for her to know.
He closed his eyes, as though he was remembering each one. “Did I love some of them? Yes. Did I take some of them to my bed? Yes.”
Her fists tightened, her claws digging in, drawing blood.
Then he opened his lids and gently turned her face to his with his fingers. “Did I stop after each one continued to die? Yes. Have I loved anyone as much as I do you? No. Has it been hundreds of years since I brought another to my bed besides you? Yes.”
She swallowed ... deeply. Hundreds of years? She had brought Aris to her bed only a day before she’d taken Ragan to hers for the first time.
“The energy,” he continued, releasing her face, “has to stay here. You felt the rot inside it when we were in Enare. In Valgmyr, it isn’t tainted, which is why the energy needs to remain this way, so it won’t fester. I guard it. I protect it, while the magic you feel every day in Ketill gives life to the land. With the magic there wiped away, as it has been in Enare, the energy here will then slowly seep out to your lands, then spread and drain what it can. That’s why there are so many bodies here. They were all temporary, and then there needed to be another and another and another. I’m not enough. There has to be two of us, which is why my brother was created, and even then, he wasn’t enough either. But he never expired, not until I was gone. So perhaps it’s my fault he’s no longer here.” A few tears slipped from his eyes, and she almost reached up to wipe them away, but he did it first. She still didn’t want to give into him again. That was a lie—beneath all that anger, she did.
“And what happens when I expire? Then what? You collect another?”
He growled with frustration. Something she hadn’t seen him do before. “I wouldn’t have risked bringing you here if I knew you would end up like them. Only you and Silver will be able to last here.”
“Why did you choose me over her when you met us?” If Afton had been him, she would have chosen Silver. What could he have ever seen in Afton that was worth loving over Silver?
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“I’m not likeable.”
He released a low chuckle and covered his mouth with his fist. “You are to me.”
Something in her chest warmed to him, despite his lies, despite everything. She didn’t know how to feel about him anymore, but she knew she was trying not to smile. She met his gaze, her walls crumbling, but an instant before she could smile, an agonizing pain shot through her.
“What's happening to me, Ragan. I feel—” Afton gasped, falling to her knees as another flash of agony stormed through her, deep and hard.
Ragan was at her side, lifting her in his arms, and all she could feel was pain. That’s when she noticed the garden had turned to black. Growls filled the air, drawing her attention in the other direction.
Along the castle’s gold and alabaster arches, the imps sat, watching. The outside walls of the structure started to darken too, shadows bleeding across it, swallowing all of its color.
“You lied to me!” Ragan roared, his wings beating, lifting her from the ground.
Nothing made sense as he carried her through the air toward a balcony, her body jostling side to side. Tearing open the glass door, he rushed her inside.
Ragan dropped to his knees on the floor, anger written on his face. He didn’t release her, only cradled her closer. “Rory and I were born with the energy, so it came naturally. The imps didn’t tell me that it would do this to you. Your eyes may have been made from it, but you were never filled with the energy. They said you could survive, but they didn’t tell me that it might not become a part of you. So you have to allow it. You can do this, not because I want you to, but because you want to. Because you are stronger than anyone I’ve ever met.”
As the energy took and yanked and burned within her, clawing and clawing, Afton screamed, “I can’t!” She’d never said those words, never once thought she couldn’t do anything. But this pain, this intensity, this sucking of her very soul was too much for her to grasp.
Rising from his knees, Ragan carried her to the bed as she writhed and howled in agony. He lay beside her, holding onto her, not once leaving her side. Even as she cursed him repeatedly.
She didn’t want him to go.
And he didn’t.
