He grins, his fangs lengthening as his gaze drops to my throat. “Be my mate. Stop fighting it. Stop fighting your own blood.”
“It’s not my blood. It’s yours.” I gasp when he yanks me against him, his body cold and hard. “I don’t want it.”
“Oh, my little fool. You can’t unmake yourself. I willalwaysbe part of you.” He presses the tip of the blade to one side of my throat and runs his fangs along the other. “My claim can’t be denied. I’m inside you. Can you feel me, my pet? You will soon enough.” He licks up my neck.
I shudder, everything inside me screaming for a way out, for a path into the light.
But there is none.
Only darkness and the sharp agony of Eraldon’s bite.
30
Solano
It’s difficult to find somewhere in the day realm where darkness grows. Underground is the only way. The Shard’s dungeon is just such a place. Dug down deep where not even brownies or boggarts would bother to go, the entire structure was created by dwarves from the mountains in the north of the winter realm.
Etched into the walls are those lonely peaks and sharp cliffs of High Mountain and the treacherous Wyvern Range have been recreated in sharp relief all along the towering walls that lead down into the dark.
At the bottom, only fires brighten the way and show the large cells—intended for nobles who’ve committed some offense against each other or their king—and sparse furnishings.
“What are you doing here?” Gwenarie, her voice scratchy and high, greets me as a guard shows me deeper into the stone prison. “Come to make me your queen as you promised?”
“I never promised you that, Gwen.” As I approach, the light catches on her. She’s at the bars, her hands grasping the silver as she stares at me.
“You’re my mate.” She laughs, the sound high and unhinged.
“No. Your curse has been broken, and I found my true mate. Emma.”
“My curse?” She gnashes her teeth and reaches for me.
The guard moves to strike her.
“No.” I pull him back. “Leave her.”
“Oh, thank you, my lord.” She does a curtsy, then greets me with those same calculating eyes that have observed my every move for more years than I care to count.
I stand, pondering her fate. She should stand trial for what she’s done, but the more I look at her, the more I realize she has no answer for her crimes. The cunning fae only knows what she wants, what she hungers for. And she’ll stop at nothing to get it.
“Here for my sister, aren’t you?” She rolls her eyes. “No one ever cared about my insignificant sister until what? Now you all think she’s some uprising mastermind?” She laughs. “That she’s allied herself with the rabble?” More laughter, and then she tries to bat her lashes at me with a coy smile. “You should be here for me, my lord. I can make you see I’m your true mate.” She begins to lift her skirts.
“No.” I should hate her for everything she’s done to me, to Emma. I do to some extent, but I also pity her. “You will remain here until the queen decides your fate.” I stride down the corridor as she screeches foul curses and promises of vengeance.
Her sister, Lunarie, is in the next cell. Sitting in a roughhewn chair, she greets me with a small bow of her head.
Gwen is still screaming and beating on the bars.
“Shh,” Lunarie whispers.
Her sister falls silent and retreats into the shadows at the back of her cell.
“Magic?” I pull up one of the guard’s chairs and sit just beyond Lunarie’s reach. I honestly don’t know what I’m dealing with, when all along I believed Lunarie to be a sweet, naïve fae with an overbearing sister.
“A little. It’s better for her. Keeps her calm.” Her voice is just as soft and sweet as always. Her eyes are warm and intelligent. Nothing amiss on the outside.
“You’ve just returned from the Nightlands, then?”
“Yes.”
