“Why couldn’t he trust his siblings?” I remember Damien mentioning them but not any animosity between them.
“His sister, Karyl, was still a child at the time, and his younger brother, Brahm, was prone to drinking and debauchery. Damien could never get his mother to consider it, but there were rumors that Brahm was the leak responsible for their father’s abduction. A tavern owner told Damien he saw Brahm, so drunk he’d wet himself, whispering with a Rivertoad the night before it happened.” I must look sufficiently confused because he explains. “Rivertoads are wanderers. They have no land of their own but live in encampments along the river that borders the mountains. They’re not bad people but are as poor as they come. It would be a cruel temptation to give one information so valuable as the location of the king.”
He pauses to take another deep drink. “Anyway, he trusted us and so he asked us to help him get his father back. Against every law of the kingdom at the time, we used the shadows, at great personal risk, to find where the elves were holding Malek, a heavily fortified prison called Dhegal Castle. We only made it through their wards at all because Damien had a friend among the witches who agreed to help us. The following night, the three of us staged a rescue. The castle was guarded by elf mages who wielded light magic. They wielded it like swords.”
“Lightsabers,” I whisper breathlessly.
His eyes crease at the corners. “Not quite as elegant, thank the gods. The plan was to enter from the roof. Elves can’t fly, and we’d seen only two guards up there on our reconnaissance missions. We formed from shadow during the darkest night, slit the guard’s throats, and descended a spiral staircase to the castle proper. But the elves had a failsafe. At the bottom of the staircase, we found ourselves having to traverse a light-filled passageway. Not only were we rendered mortal, but the magic triggered the arrival of more guards.
“It would have been natural for Damien, as the acting king, to send me and Morpheus forward into battle first. But he never held himself above us or any of the umbrae. He charged into the guards, sword swinging. He’d decapitate one elf only to use its body as a shield against another. Morpheus and I defended his flanks, but we’d never been as skilled with a sword as he was. Morpheus took a hit to the face with a sun-poisoned blade. I took one here.” He gestures over the scar at his throat. “When we finally reached the end of the corridor and Damien slew the mage responsible for the light, we all broke into shadow and found Malek. Morpheus slew the mage powering his father’s cell, but when Damien entered, his father protested, begged his son for mercy, to kill him. He’d been imprisoned there for a year, starved and tortured. Damien carried him out of there. Both Morpheus and I were still bleeding, but we helped him get Malek to the roof and shadoweave home. Our wounds healed quickly, although the light made them scar. His father’s ran deeper. He did recover, but Damien effectively ruled the kingdom until the day we were captured and brought here.”
Nothing surprises me about the story. Not that Damien risked his life for his father nor that he refused to use his title to protect himself. I’m not surprised by his competency as a warrior either. But I frown at the fireplace, suddenly swollen with fury.
“I’ve upset you,” Cassius says.
I look at him and shake my head. “It’s been over a month since Valeska took Damien. What lengths must she be taking to hold him there?”
His expression turns grave. “If he were dead, we’d know. You’d feel it along your mating bond and I along the shadows.”
“But if he’s not dead?”
We both stare at each other. Neither of us needs to say it, but I know by the look in his eyes that it’s true. By the time I make it to Night Haven, it’s very possible that Damien will be as broken as his father was.
19
On the Inside
DAMIEN
Hell is empty, and all the devils are here. A human wrote that. Shakespeare. I could appreciate The Tempest before, but I never so intimately understood the line until now.
“You will not leave this room,” Valeska orders me. The taste of her blood still coats my mouth. I hate it. Hate the scent of her that fills my nose. Hate the room where I’m her prisoner.
She glances over at Tae and nods her head. Lang still hasn’t shown his face, and I’m pretty sure he’s dead based on Tae’s general appearance. The witch looks like the walking dead, his eyes red over dark bruises of half-moon flesh. His mouth sags as if he’s never known the joy of a smile. And the way he looks at me—if the hate in his eyes were fuel, we’d all go up in flames.
Valeska points at me. “Take it off.”
Tae removes the sunlight collar from my neck. Instantly I break apart into shadow. It feels so good to finally be free of the sun. It’s as if every molecule of my existence is charged with pure joy as I slither through the darkness and attempt to leave. But I can’t. Every trail of shadow ends at the boundary of the room. I try again and again, until Valeska’s laugh echoes around me.
“Enough, Damien. Return to me so we can talk.”
My shadows pull together against my will, and I form in front of her, my wings flaring.
“Your other form, Damien. I’ve had enough of the horns.”
Power slams into me, and by my next heartbeat, I’m in my corse form, dressed in casual clothing. I run a hand down my chest. Despair replaces my former elation. “What have you done to me?”
She cracks a wicked smile but doesn’t answer me. Instead, she turns to Tae. “Your debt to me is repaid. You may leave.”
He gives a shallow bow and storms from the room. The last thing I hear before the door closes is a relieved sigh.
“You killed his brother,” Valeska says, brushing a dark wave out of her luminescent amber eyes. “You have not made a friend in the Kim coven, but then friendship isn’t even half as useful as fear. He won’t hurt you as long as you’re with me.”
I grit my teeth. “Why can’t I leave this room?”
“Because you’ve had my blood. Twice now actually. Although it’s possible you were asleep for the first feeding.” She waves a hand through the air dismissively. “In any case, you must obey me. It’s my blood keeping you alive. You feel better, don’t you?”
Physically I’m stronger, and my injuries from the torture I’ve endured these past weeks are healing. I’m able to sustain this form and am in little pain. But mentally I loathe the real possibility that I’ve blood bonded with Valeska.
