He was suddenly aware of the danger he was in and how quickly this situation could turn. Should the wraiths want, they could swarm him. They could claim their own oblivion or cut him with their blades.
Clearing his throat, he spoke again. “I can give you purpose and peace. I can give you revenge for being so cruelly abandoned.”
His words were manipulative, he knew that. Neither master had meant to abandon them, but soft words wouldn’t instill purpose in an undead warrior.
“I won’t force you to fight again and again, driving your reanimation through blood magic.” The truth was, he couldn’t make them reanimate. Not without a blood weaving, and Teryn wasn’t willing to do that. And based on what Emylia had said on the battlement, Morkai had been able to secure the wraiths’ loyalty through promises alone, but being defeated in battle would end their bloodlust. Which meant Teryn was limited to how long he could use them. And he only intended to use them once. Whether it ended up being in defense of the castle or to defeat Darius at the border meeting, he’d only do this one time.
He continued. “I won’t make you wait for some far-off goal before I make good on what I offer you. All I ask is for one final battle. One last act of noble violence.”
He reached for the letter opener he’d taken from the bureau before coming to the field. Digging its tip into his forearm, he made a shallow cut. He held out his arm and let his blood drip onto the black soil. “This is my blood. This is the blood you will follow when next I call for you, to fight one last time. This is the blood that will end your hunger and lay your souls to rest.”
His heart hammered against his ribs as he waited for their reaction.
Then, as one, the wraiths bent to the earth on one knee and bowed their heads.
Seven devils, it worked. He’d earned their loyalty, just like Morkai.
He heaved a relieved breath.
“That wasn’t truly blood magic.” Emylia appeared beside him. Or had she been there all along?
“No,” he said, “just a blood vow. A promise I can fulfill.”
44
Oppressive heat filled Cora’s lungs, pressing in all around her, as if the air itself had grown heavy. With a gasp, she tore away from Darius. He released her, and she launched a few steps back. She hadn’t been prepared for him to take her so quickly, and the surprise sent shock waves through her legs.
She kept her eyes locked on Darius, who merely straightened the sleeves of his coat.
“Don’t look at me with such suspicion,” he said. “I’ve done nothing but take you to Syrus like we agreed.”
Her breaths began to calm, and she dared to look away from him. They stood on a cobblestone walkway on a quiet street. Sleeping storefronts lined one side while a stone wall rose waist high on the other. A soft breeze blew across her cheeks, carrying with it more of that smothering heat.
It wasn’t an unnatural kind.
It was merely the temperature of her surroundings.
The Southern Islands were known for their balmy climates, even in the winter. Which must mean they truly were in Syrus. She hazarded a glance at Darius again, but he kept his distance, posture straight, hands clasped at his waist.
“Welcome to my hellish domain,” he said. “Please, look around. See what a dark and miserable prison I’ve subjected my citizens to.”
His mocking tone grated on her nerves, but she studied her surroundings. They were dark indeed, but that was only because it was evening. The Southern Islands were a few hours behind Khero, so it was sometime before midnight. As for miserable, there was nothing to suggest an ounce of misery. Strains of conversation and laughter floated on the air, while light streamed from homes, terraces, and nearby buildings.
She stepped closer to the stone wall and found a sloping, layered hillside beyond it, edged with streets like the one they stood on, and tall blocky buildings made from colorful stucco. It was too dark to see the hues clearly, but she caught hints of orange, tan, blue, and pink. Some of the rooftops were flat while others boasted terracotta shingles. She even spotted an ornate domed building far below.
The bottom of the hill cut off in a steep cliff, where the first rows of houses appeared to be carved straight from the stone. Beneath that stretched an endless sea dancing with starlight and the lamps of fishing boats.
Gods, she hated to admit it, but her enemy’s island kingdom was beautiful.
She did her best to mask her awe as she faced Darius again.
“Come along,” he said, starting off down the street.
“To where?”
“I want to give you a closer look at my people.”
“Meaning…”
