Elves of all age and stature gathered around the courtyard to watch the two men in armed combat. The few elven children there observed the match with wide luminous eyes and completely rapt attention. No one within the elven kingdom was better at sword play than the two that battled before them now.
The combatants thrust and parried, dodged and dove, and slammed their swords against each other with barely checked fury as tiny trickles of sweat slid down their perfect faces and stained the thin linen of their white shirts.
Astriel released his rage into his movements, slowly, little by little and bit by bit so as to not overwhelm his opponent. As he moved, his shirt front stretched open, revealing four long, thin scars where Raven’s magical iron claws had sliced him clean.
For his part, Malveis withstood Astriel’s onslaught. He was the captain of the elven guard and the prince’s best friend, and the two sparred often. However today, though he managed to withstand the prince’s onslaught, he had only enough time or energy to concentrate on taking the brunt of Astriel’s expertise while not completely succumbing to his powerful attack.
After what seemed like an exhausting eternity, Malveis began to weaken. The anger behind his master’s attacks was wearing him down. He’d never before felt this kind of wrath when sparring with his prince, and his own well trained muscles were no match for the intensity of that kind of passion.
A few more delirious moments passed and Malveis found himself on the ground, the tip of Astriel’s gleaming sword pressed gently but threateningly against the hollow of his throat. Malveis’s blood hammered in his ears. He fought not to breathe too heavily, as the sword’s edge was incredibly sharp and was weighted all too dangerously against his flesh.
He peered up at his friend, his gaze arrested by the tell-tale claw marks on the prince’s broad chest. Then he looked into Astriel’s eyes and found himself locked in their intense blue gaze. His prince was lost in the moment. He appeared for all the world a harrowed man hell-bent on destruction, with a very deadly sword in his hand.
“My Prince,” Malveis said softly, a little unsure, the tiniest amount of beseechment lacing the rims of his words.
“LORD ASTRIEL.”
The crowd turned at the deep command and even Astriel was jerked from the darkness of his thoughts. All eyes were averted to the marble balcony that towered above them at the head of the courtyard.
King Oberon stood alone on the marble terrace, his incredibly tall and strong form made to appear even taller by the immense set of antlers atop his head. His hair was long and silver, like his son’s, and even from the grounds of the courtyard, the elven people could feel the immense weight of his powerful blue gaze upon them. The silence that stole over the outer gardens was palpable.
Oberon surveyed his people and then returned his attention to the prince. A voice in Astriel’s mind spoke unhindered, loud and clear.
Do not lose yourself, Astriel. Malveis is your loyal servant. What has come over you?
Prince Astriel tore his gaze away from his father’s and looked down at his best friend. Malveis lay perfectly still beneath the threatening tip of Astriel’s sword, his expression unreadable. Astriel lifted his sword and sheathed it. Then he offered a hand to his friend. Malveis took the outstretched hand without a moment’s thought. He came to his feet and, though he wobbled unsteadily for a moment, he was quick to regain his balance and enough strength to stand on his own.
Astriel glanced back up at his father. Oberon had never looked away.
Behind the king, from the shadows of an open veranda, stepped Astriel’s sister, Princess Zeta. She approached the railing and gazed down at her brother. Her eyes sparkled with interest, her thin brow arched inquisitively.
Astriel glared at her. She smiled an entirely wicked smile.
She had won and she knew it.
It was time this ended.
Astriel turned to his friend beside him. “Accompany me to my sister’s study, Malveis. We have some business to attend to.” Astriel clapped the captain of the elven guard on the back and made his way into the castle, Malveis just behind him.
A few moments later, he strode into Zeta’s chambers, knowing she would be waiting for him. She glanced up from where she sat upon her fainting couch, idly playing with the long strand of finely cut gems around her slender neck. Her smile was victorious, her cheeks flushed, her violet eyes twinkling with triumph.
Astriel barely afforded her a glance as he said, “The bet is off,” and headed directly for her viewing pool.
She threw back her head and laughed, the sound reminiscent of tinkling bells, and then she rose and joined him at the edge of the large bowl. Malveis entered the chamber next, coming to stand beside them.
“I had a feeling it would not be long,” Zeta teased softly. “After all, she attacked you. I knew the girl had to be special.”
Astriel said, “You have no idea.”
Again, Zeta’s brow rose inquisitively, but Astriel told her nothing further and instead began a simple incantation, waving his hand over the viewing pool. The water’s surface shimmered and he lowered his hand, waiting. The plane of water stilled once again, but nothing appeared in its depths.
Astriel’s gaze narrowed.
Zeta’s expression of victory vanished, to be replaced with one of shock.
“Try again, my liege,” Malveis suggested, his own expression somewhat surprised.
Astriel glanced at each of them in turn and then looked back down at the water. He had a feeling he knew what was going on. It was what he’d dreaded, what he’d known in the back of his mind would happen, even as he’d gone against his every instinct.
He was a fool.
Still, he tried the search spell again. And again, it failed.
Zeta looked up at her brother. “Who is doing this?”
“Someone who is immune to elven magic,” Astriel answered, his jaw set, his gaze hard. His voice was calm, but each word was laced with undeniable menace. He moved away from the pool to stand by Zeta’s windows. There, he peered out over the city of Trimontium and the valleys and mountains beyond.
“Malveis, I want you to accompany me on a hunt,” he began, exhibiting a cool composure that utterly belied the emotions that were raging inside of him. Malveis and Zeta had fallen silent behind him, listening intently. “I know not who, besides a member of Dark Royalty or an elf, would have the power to shield someone from my sight. However, I do know that Drake of Tanith’s reputation precedes him. He is known throughout not only this realm, but several others, including the Dark Realms, as he has been called on occasion by the Dark Royalty to run down certain political absentees.” Astriel paused and turned to look at them.
Malveis and Zeta exchanged glances.
Astriel continued, turning from the window. “Tanith’s prestige, however, is not solely due to his innate ability to bring in such taxing and problematical bounty. There are… rumors, of other things which Tanith is known for.”
Malveis’ brow furrowed. “Such as what, my lord?”
Astriel smiled bitterly and began pacing. “Such as the man’s manifested talent for resisting certain types of magic. It isn’t just elven magic which fails against the man. Apparently, most magic has little effect on him, if any, and even the Dark Lords of several of Abaddonian’s Circles have allegedly failed in augury and sortilege against the bounty hunter.” He continued to pace, now staring at the floor in front of him as he spoke.
“There is also the matter of Tanith’s indeterminate age. It is one thing for an elf to look younger than his years.” This, said with a slight smile. “However, mortals are not afforded such luxuries. Except, it would seem, in Tanith’s situation. No one knows how old he is, and he is not prone to sharing this information.” Astriel moved to a second window in the room. This one looked out over the western lands of Kriver, and afforded a view to the sea. “And various evidence points to his latency in numerous realms – several thousand years ago.”
Astriel turned to Malveis, a strange, enigmatic look on his handsome face. “Does he appear to you as a two-thousand year old mortal would?” he asked.
Malveis shook his head. “No, my lord.”
Zeta approached her brother. “Astriel, you hired the Bounty Hunter of Tanith to go after this woman, and now you think he is hiding her from you?”
Astriel smiled. “No.” He moved to a chair opposite Zeta’s couch and sat down, leaning back casually. “I know he is. I sensed his interest in her the moment he looked upon her image in my viewing pool.” He eyed his sister, his expression one of dark amusement. “Not that I blame the man.”
Zeta sat down across from him and cocked her head to one side. “There is something about her you aren’t telling us.” She leaned back as well and once again began to finger the gems at her throat. “Isn’t there?”
Astriel smiled a nasty smile. “Much.”
Malveis came forward. “I will ready a contingent of men, my lord. We can leave within the hour.”
Astriel nodded, his thoughts dark, his eyes full of sinister promise. Malveis bowed slightly and left the room.
Zeta watched silently when her brother stood moments later and left the room as well. As the doors closed behind him, she could not suppress the strange feeling that all of their lives were about to change once and for all.
*****
Raven spun around at the sound of foliage crunching under foot. Her heart seemed to do a painful flip in her chest, causing it to constrict painfully. She’d been laying in the grass and her mind had been wandering.
Now, she had bolted up-right into a seated position, her dark eyes trained on the stranger several yards away.
At first she thought that the tall dark figure across the pond was Adonides.
But when he stepped further into the clearing and the sunlight fell across his features, she realized her mistake.
“You,” she said, not knowing what else to say.
He stared at her with those molten steel eyes and Raven’s insides churned. It was Drake of Tanith. The bounty hunter who had been sent after her by the prince of the elves.
“Princess Raven,” he addressed her, adding a slight nod as one did for royalty. She narrowed her gaze, wondering whether he was mocking her. If not, how in Abaddon did he know she was a princess?
He’s infamous, she told herself, recalling the exchange between Cruor and Tanith in the clearing that morning. He’s a hunter among bounty hunters. He probably knows everything about me.
Then he cocked his head to one side and studied her openly, from the tops of her wings to the tips of her boots and her body unconsciously reacted, her cheeks growing warm. She pushed herself to her feet. Her wings lifted slightly from her back as if ready for flight.
“Or do you go by another name when in this form?” he asked.
“Who are you, Tanith?” she demanded. “How do you know me and how did you get into my head back there?” she asked, remembering the way she had heard his voice in her mind, suggesting that she “change” into her other form. This form.
Drake continued to study her in silence. Raven felt like a rabbit caught in a wolf’s gaze.
“I know everything about you,” he finally said as he pulled his eyes off of her and turned his back to her. The trusting action surprised her until he put his fingers to his lips and whistled. In a few short moments, the sound of hoof beats could be heard rushing through the forest.
Raven took a wary step back as the tree branches burst apart and a massive stallion charged headlong into the clearing. The sun shimmered off of his jet-black hair and mane in the same way that it did her wings. His hooves beat on the soft earth, kicking up streams of sand. The great horse slowed, turned, and trotted to his master.
Raven watched as Tanith whispered something to the animal and the horse actually nodded. Then, as he began to pull several items from the satchel across the horse’s back, the bounty hunter turned his attention to Raven once more.
“Are you injured at all?” he asked, eyeing her carefully.
Raven blinked and opened her mouth to ask him what he was talking about, but quickly recalled the red-skinned creatures that she’d clawed to get away from as Tanith fought the elf mage. They had not harmed her.
She shook her head.
Tanith nodded, apparently satisfied, and moved around the horse toward a thick patch of green grass a few feet away.
Raven watched him, nonplussed. And then her gaze narrowed into a glare. He hadn’t answered her question; in fact, he’d managed to utterly change the subject and leave her temporarily speechless.
“I asked you a question, bounty hunter.”
Tanith ignored her and began to set the items he’d pulled from his saddle bags on the ground. Raven watched warily as he unfolded a soft-looking blanket large enough for two to sit comfortably on. He then opened a thin round metal canister to miraculously reveal perfect, ripe strawberries. He opened another and poured something that looked like wine from its depths.
Raven’s stomach growled. Tanith looked up. She blushed furiously and wrapped her arms around her midsection.
Drake’s lips curled slightly.
Raven’s look darkened.
“I know you’re hungry, Raven. You can’t hide anything from me, so I suggest you save the energy it takes to try.” He sat down on one side of the blanket, casually draping one arm over his knee and leveling her with those platinum eyes. “Why don’t you come sit down instead and have a bite to eat.”
Raven looked at the food. And then she looked at Tanith. And then she shifted her weight to her other leg, and her wings fidgeted at her back. Finally, she sighed heavily. “Will you answer my questions?”
“That depends on what questions you ask.”
“You’re an incredibly frustrating man.”
His gaze heated then, his eyes nearly glowing in the tanned frame of his handsome face.
“I could just fly away,” Raven added.
“I wouldn’t recommend it.” He picked up a strawberry and twirled its stem between his fingers. “I am not the only one looking for you. You’d be lucky if I caught you first.”
“I’ve called someone else to come to my location,” she said then, blurting the words out quickly. “You may want to leave before they arrive.” She was thinking of Adonides, but even as she shared the information, she had the sinking feeling that her call had gone un-heard. She was bluffing.
“Stop,” Drake said then, his eyes boring into hers. “This is pointless. We are alone and neither of us is going anywhere until I decide so.”
Raven’s eyes widened. Her jaw tensed up, her teeth gritted behind her lips. Her fangs ached in her gums and she wasn’t exactly sure why. Above it all, she felt paralyzed beneath the weight of his stark, impenetrable gaze. Her heart would not stop pounding. With anger or something else, she couldn’t tell.
Tanith let out a slow breath through his nose and then motioned once more for her to sit down. “Please come and sit. You haven’t eaten anything today.” He turned to the apparently magical containers beside him on the blanket and continued to uncover more food. A loaf of bread, a block of cheese, and most amazingly, a bowl of hot, steaming soup. The meal had obviously appeared through the means of some fantastic spell. None of the food logically fit into the small containers he’d originally pulled from his pack.
Raven recalled how the elf’s magic had not worked on the bounty hunter. But Tanith was apparently also able to use magic of his own.
“Raven, come sit down,” he told her, his tone soft but low, his words both a request and, this time, an impatient command.
She eyed him carefully. Her mind was spinning, but her stomach was growling louder by the second. Finally, she swallowed something that felt like a combination of trepidation and pride and made her way to the edge of his blanket.
“It’s Winter,” she said, not looking at him but eyeing the food instead. “In this form, I go by Winter. I suppose you don’t know everything about me after all,” she added and then glanced back at his face.
Now it was his turn to look slightly surprised. He stared at her for a long, silent moment. Raven had to wonder what it was that she had said. Then he smiled, and Raven’s heart did uncomfortable things again, warming her blood so that it felt hot in her veins.
His teeth were perfect and white and his face, already so handsome, became unbearably so beneath the charm of that openly amused smile. His silent laughter touched upon his eyes, lighting them up.
Raven tore her gaze away to look at the blanket, the food, the ground, and the water that rippled slowly across Mandarin Pond. She tried to concentrate on the current situation, the elf prince, anything but Tanith’s nearness, his beautiful eyes, the broad breadth of his shoulders, the insignia on the leather armor over his chest.… Her eyes returned to his armor and lingered there, taking in the detail. An eye, a hand, and a rope.
She looked up at him questioningly.
His smile was gone.
Raven swallowed hard and sat down.
When she had folded her wings comfortably behind her, Tanith held the canister of strawberries out to her. She hesitated only a moment more before taking them from him.
“Are they poisoned?”
“No,” he answered without hesitation. It was as if he had been expecting her to ask, even though she knew it was a foolish question. If he’d wanted her unconscious or dead, there were easier, faster ways to accomplish such a feat.
She chewed the inside of her cheek and then took a strawberry out of the container by its stem. It was red and ripe and glistened in the shafts of afternoon sunlight. She took a bite.
Juice so sweet it tasted as if it had been sugared gushed out across her tongue, cool and refreshing. It was delicious. In fact, it was easily the best strawberry Raven had ever had. She chewed slowly and swallowed, relishing in its flavor. Then she tossed the stem and took another from the container, consuming it more quickly than the first.
“Glad you approve,” Drake said, his tone amused.
Raven ignored him and took a third strawberry from the container that re-filled the missing strawberries even as she consumed them. Before biting into it, she asked, “Are you going to turn me in to the elf prince?”
He had been watching her eat, and despite the distractingly good taste of the fruit, her skin had been growing warm beneath his gaze. But now he looked away and busied himself with breaking the bread into two pieces. “It’s my job.”
Raven lowered the strawberry. “How much did he pay you, Tanith?” she asked.
“It’s Drake,” he answered quickly. “And, does it matter?”
Raven tore the stem off of the third strawberry, popped the berry into her mouth, and chewed it up. Then she reached for the cheese and one of the two pieces of bread. She was starving and this food was delectable. And, by the sound of things, she might need her strength.
“I suppose not,” she said softly as she pried the bread apart and placed the cheese inside, forming a make-shift sandwich. “Is he going to kill me… Drake?” she asked then.
His head snapped up and his eyes held hers. They looked lighter than they had before, as if the steel within them had melted into mercury and was swirling about. Her limbs felt heavy beneath that gaze, her chest tight, her head light.
Drake watched her across from him, his chest tight, his body on fire, his senses so attuned to everything she said, did and breathed, it was painful. He considered her question – and the man who had sent him out after her. The truth was, he had no idea what Astriel wanted to do with Raven Grey. But, as she stared right back at him, confident even while she was scared, he came to a hard realization, crystal clear and certain. No matter what Astriel’s plans were, Drake would never let the prince kill her.
“No,” he said, simply. Firmly. “He is not going to kill you.” He’s never going to touch you, he added mentally. Grolsch will take you from me before I get the chance to turn you in.
She sat still, unable to move while he was looking at her so intensely. Then he looked away again and she was able to glance down at her sandwich. After a few silent moments, she asked, “Who was the elf that abducted me?”
Drake hesitated a moment before answering, his expression one of indecision and some other emotion that she could not place. Then he said, “His name is Cruor.”
*****
An hour later, Raven sat on the small boulder overlooking the pond as Drake of Tanith re-packed the blanket and the empty containers and placed them in the packs on his horse. Trepidation was a horrible aftertaste to the delicious, if simple meal she’d just eaten. But the bounty hunter had told her everything about Cruor.
Everything.
And now fear built up within her gut and her nerve endings were beginning to itch with her need to run away, to fight, to prevent herself from being taken into a situation that would undoubtedly cost her her life. But every time she chanced a glance at the bounty hunter, it was to find him looking her way. Watching her. It was as if he knew she was thinking just such a thing.
She even had the insane notion that, should she take to the skies and try to fly away, he would sprout wings of his own and fly right after her. She shook her head. She knew, in her heart, that she could not escape from Tanith. It was something about who he was. He was strong, fast, and immune to magic. What he’d said was true; the only way she would leave him was if he let her go.
Drake finished securing the bags and walked across the clearing toward her.
She’d changed back into Raven’s form long ago, feeling the need, in the midst of all that Drake had told her, to have the more familiar body surrounding her soul. But now, without Winter’s giant wings and strong physique, she felt so small in the shadow of the tall man in black leather standing so still beside her.
She would not look up at him. She stared into the water, wondering if there was any magic in the world that would help her escape him at that moment.
“If you take me to the castle, Gray Beard will find me there. You told me that he is really Cruor, the Death Mage. He will kill me and take my soul,” she said, her head still down.
Drake said nothing beside her. Finally, she looked up at him.
And jumped to her feet.
He was staring at her intently. In one gloved fist, he held a rope. It was a light purple color and was constructed of some strange silken fiber that reflected the light at odd angles. It looked soft but it also looked very strong and Raven was willing to bet her left wing that he planned to use it on her.
“Don’t do this, Tanith. It isn’t worth whatever he is giving you. Can’t you see that?” she said fiercely as she fought not to step away from him. “What use will money be to you when Cruor destroys all life on the Terran realm? You’ll have nowhere to spend it.”
Drake’s expression was unreadable. “It’s what I do, Princess. Please don’t make this any harder than it has to be.” His jaw set then and he lowered his head.
Raven watched him as his impassive mask melted and various emotions chased each other across his handsome face. She searched her brain for something, anything, she could say that would make him change his mind.
“Drake, you may not care what happens to the quarry you bring in,” she said softly. “But they each have minds and souls and desires. And my very strong desire is that I don’t die at the hands of a megalomaniacal death mage, thereby giving him the means to destroy the entire world.” She allowed a bit of her desperation to lace her finishing plea. “I don’t want the deaths of children to be on my hands.”
When Tanith looked up at her then, it was to spear her with eyes that had gone suddenly cold and hard as steel. The look he gave her was so determined that it chilled her to the core. She hadn’t been able to reach him. He’d shut himself off to her reasoning. He was taking her in no matter what.
Raven knew the moment he’d made up his mind. Her body began to slip into fight mode, her magic awakening inside of her as if from a slumber. She took a step back, preparing to use whatever spell she could come up with, even if she had to create it herself. If her magic wouldn’t work on the bounty hunter, maybe it would work on her. Maybe she could transport away.
Drake swore under his breath and before Raven knew what he was doing, he’d reached out and grabbed her, his movements so fast they were an indiscernible blur of motion. He didn’t move like a human. It was further, damning proof to Raven that he was much more than he seemed.
With one arm, he spun her around and then yanked her off balance so that she fell back against his chest. “Don’t fight me, princess. You won’t win.”
Raven didn’t bother replying to him. Instead, she opened her mouth to let loose with the arcane words waiting on her tongue. As if he’d instinctively known that she would begin to cast a spell, Drake clapped a hand over her mouth.
Raven was not without recourse, however. She’d been in this situation enough times by now that she knew the drill. The moment his palm touched her lips, she slid her head to the side, exposed her fangs, and sank them into the muscle, sinew and waiting vein on the inside of his wrist.
Blood exploded in her mouth and she jerked beneath the sudden impact of it across her tongue. It was hot – too hot. It felt like fire as it raced over her gums and slid, like molten metal, down her throat. But it was good, too. It was really good.
It tasted like everything that was forbidden. Sin, selfishness, lust, possession, pride, sex. Hard, hot sex. She was instantly wet; her legs weakened beneath the harsh, relentless and lightning-fast onslaught of wanton need that raced down her throat and spread, like wildfire, through her devil’s veins.
Around her, Tanith’s grip on her body tightened to the point of pain, but she barely noticed. In fact, the pain mingled with the pleasure washing over her, becoming nothing more than a sharpened edge to the incredible sensations claiming her. She wanted to keep drinking. She wanted to devour him, in fact. She wanted things she couldn’t even give name to. All thoughts of escaping, of fighting, of flying away simply fled from her mind, leaving her quivering in the wake of need that Drake’s blood awakened within her.
Another swallow and Raven realized that he hadn’t even attempted to pull away from her. Quite the opposite. Instead, he had snaked his other hand around her waist and pulled her body into his with such fierce possessiveness, it was as if they could not get close enough.
Raven felt his breath brush her ear as she wrapped her hands around his wrist.
“You little fool,” he whispered, his teeth nipping at the skin beneath her ear. His breathing was ragged; she could feel him trembling slightly against her back. “What have you done….” His hand spanned across her abdomen; she felt tiny pricks of pain where his fingertips met her flesh, and again, it was not an unwelcome sensation.
She swallowed again, shuddered as the blood shoved her to the precipice of an orgasm, and then gasped when Drake suddenly removed his wrist from her mouth and spun her around in his embrace.
Raven gazed dazedly up at him, her body burning up around her. His eyes were no longer silver; they glowed white-hot in his face, their centers sparking with red-orange flames, eerie, inhuman, and striking. His lips were slightly parted and from between them, she could make out the long, razor-sharp tips of fangs much like her own. His skin seemed to have darkened, reminding her of Adonides.
Either she was imagining it, or his hair had grown. No longer did it simply curl over the leather collar of his armor; it now fell to his shoulders in jet-black waves. And he was taller. He seemed to have grown several inches, his already lofty, muscular form now towering over her, both formidable and dangerously enticing.
Drake brought one hand up and very gently cupped the side of her face, his thumb running a line over the curve of her chin. His brow was furrowed, worried. But the tightness of his grip on her waist and the flickering flames in his eyes bespoke of hunger, pure and complete.
Raven literally did not know what to think. One thought after another played tag through her mind, and she could only let them run wild, in and out of consciousness, utterly confounding and unreachable. One moment, she and Drake had been struggling.
And the next?
His touch was driving her crazy.
She took a quick breath to say something, though she knew not what. She only knew she wanted this thirst quenched, this need tended to.
But before she had a chance to utter a syllable, Drake’s hand slipped from her face to the back of her neck, where his fingers encircled her small throat. He squeezed just enough to hold her in place, and then his lips were crashing down upon hers. The kiss came with such force, such wanton selfishness, it took away what little breath Raven had left.
She swooned as he parted her lips and drank her in as greedily as she had swallowed of him moments earlier. The kiss deepened; Drake was nearly brutal in his tasting of her. His tongue delved deep, his sharp teeth grazed and pierced her lips, his arms held her with forceful possession and Raven was ensnared in sheer, turbulent bliss.
“Let her go, Tanith.”
Drake froze, his platinum eyes flashing open, his mouth stilling against hers.
Raven felt him tense and wanted to cry out at the interruption. At the same time, reality crept in, like mold, at the edges of her consciousness. She remembered who she was – who Drake was – and what had been happening only minutes ago.
“I said let her go.”
She recognized the voice of the intruder then.
Adonides. He’d heard her, after all.
*****
Grolsch pulled his horse to a stop several hundred yards from the opening of the clearing where Drake had told him he and Raven would be. He dismounted and tied the stallion’s reigns to a thick branch. Then he pulled a small silk-wrapped bundle from the inside pocket of his brown leather armor and proceeded to unwrap it.
A single arrowhead, forged of pitch-black metal and tipped in what appeared to be red gold, sat in the palm of his gloved hand. He gazed down at it. A symbol etched into one side of the small straight broad head depicted nine concentric circles, the inner-most circle plated blood-red.
Grolsch took a deep breath and pulled a long straight arrow shaft from his quiver. He placed the arrowhead to the tip of the shaft and, after a moment’s hesitation, spoke a single arcane word.
The arrowhead began to heat up in his hands. He gritted his teeth and held it and the shaft steady. It burned, even through the leather protection of his gloves. There was a soft cracking sound and the arrowhead molded to the tip of the shaft, merging tightly. Symbols then began to appear in red along the tapered cedar. Long lines of archaic text, deep crimson as blood, wrote themselves across the shaft until there was no space left undecorated.
The arrowhead cooled and Grolsch stared down at the weapon. It was more deadly than most people could imagine.
“Just try not to kill me with it, Grolsch. Let’s aim for severely injured and call it good.”
Grolsch swallowed as he recalled Drake’s instruction. He was to injure Drake and take Raven from him so that Lord Astriel would be convinced Drake had failed in his abduction attempt.
Grolsch shook his head. His damned hand was shaking. There was no doubt in his mind that his friend had pretty much lost his sanity over this woman.
“She’d better be worth it,” he growled under his breath. Then he pulled his bow off of his shoulder and headed toward the pond.