I grab the letter and move toward the end of my bed. Lifting the mattress, I shove it under the corner.
I turn and meet Barlowe’s gaze. The brother I was once closer to than anyone sits before me, but a stranger is the one who stares back.
“How have things been, Briar? I’m sorry I haven’t written much lately. The training has become more grueling, and those men up there really depend on me, you know?
“I understand,” I lie. “Things have been pretty normal around here. I spend most of my days in the kitchen helping Rose and Lang and the other half of the day avoiding our father. I’m a professional at this point.”
Barlowe laughs, “What an exciting life you live, sister. So… how is Maines?”
“Why do you ask?” I smile, angling my head.
“Just curious.”
Before I can open my mouth, there’s another knock on the door. “What is the deal with people coming to my door today?”
The door swings open with force as Thatcher enters before I can reach the knob. “Hi, sweetheart.” He breezes past me with an arrogance that makes me cringe. “Oh, look, Barlowe is here too. What a fun family reunion.”
Thatcher Madden is third-in-command of my father’s army—below Barlowe and his own father, Elrod Madden. Unfortunately, Thatcher didn’t travel with my brother to the training camps, and he has been competing with him for years. I, however, have been here suffering from his hatred by mere association.
“What in the Gods do you want, Thatcher?” I demand.
“I heard Barlowe the Magnificent returned from up north. Word is he has been beating everyone’s ass at training camp. I heard they were so sick of him that they kicked him out. I thought I’d come to pay my favorite Blackbyrne siblings a warm visit and see if the rumors were true.”
I fight the urge to gag at Thatcher Madden being in my bedroom. That’s one thing I never want to experience again. Thatcher is two years older, and even though he is one of the most handsome men in Daramveer, his personality makes him uglier than the hags in the sewers. He stands heads taller than our largest soldiers and often uses that as a weapon of intimidation. His hair resembles the shade of a ripe blackberry, cut close to his head, and his ice-blue eyes are sharp and stunning but show no soul.
Elrod Madden—my father’s right-hand man for everything—also possesses the same looks and intimidation tactics. I can never understand how his sister, Maines, ended up being so lovely. Maines is what you might call a best friend. She is better than I am in every possible way. She is warm and inviting, and I’ll never know why she chooses to be my friend.
“Thatcher, no one has time for your shit. Please leave and never enter my bedroom again,” I hiss.
I catch sight of Barlowe standing in the corner, moving closer, noticing the energy shift in the room.
“Oh, what I would do to be in this bedroom for other reasons, Briar. Unfortunately, I’m here on business, sweetheart.”
Barlowe is at Thatcher’s throat in an instant, a dagger pressing in at the base. “Say something like that again, you disgusting pig, and I’ll cut your tongue out.”
Thatcher leans into my brother, his lips inches from his face. “There would be a lot of upset people in Daramveer if you got rid of my tongue, Barlowe.” He laughs, unfazed by the blood trickling down his neck.
Barlowe lowers his blade, stepping between me and Thatcher.
“Briar, I thought I’d let you know that our dear Maines will be returning from Eddris tomorrow morning. She’s requested you meet her no later than nine in the morning.” He rakes his gazeover me, making me gag. “I must be off. Barlowe, see you soon; I’m excited to hear about your adventures. Briar, dream of you often.” He shifts out of my bedroom, only an invisible trail of shadows left behind.
Barlowe turns to me with flaring nostrils and dark eyes. “If he ever speaks to you that way again, say the word, and he’s dead. I mean it.”
I nod, but unfortunately, Thatcher has been a pain in my ass since my brother left. The overwhelming feeling of exhaustion hits me hard as the headache continues to pulse in my mind. All I want to do is rest, but dread hits me, knowing when I close my eyes, it won’t be sleep I’m met with; it will be destruction caused by my own hands.
“Get some rest, Briar. I’m going to check on a few things, but let’s meet up in a few hours to talk more.”
I move to stop him from leaving but he shifts faster than I have time to react. I move toward the sitting area as a weight falls over my eyes—the warmth of the fire calming me. My eyes flutter closed as I feel myself drifting away—my shadows waiting for me in my dreams.
Chapter 3
The obscure flames grow higher as the darkness sweeps over my body—black shadows trailing behind me like giant wings ready to take flight. I move toward the ruined kingdom as one figure steps closer, yelling my name in my face, but I can’t see them—only a blurred outline of someone who feels familiar. I glance down, noticing I’m holding weapons. Two gold axes are in my hands, the heads sharp with a hammered detail that covers most of the blade. The weapon’s stunning beauty contrasts the darkness around us as if they glow with power brighter than the vanished sun.
Swinging one axe in defense, I strike the tall figure without a second thought. Blood sprays, and the coppery smell hits my nose as I attempt to blink away the hot liquid running down my face. My brother lies in a pool of blood, my axe protruding out of his collarbone. I try to scream, realizing who I just murdered, but black shadows cover my bloody face and mouth before I can—an actual prisoner in my own nightmare. My body trembles as the darkness rises higher, ready to devour me once more. A silent scream leaves my throat, unable to breach the surrounding shadows. In the distance, someone screams my name—the sound familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.
Briar!
I jerk awake, my clothes and sheets soaked with sweat. That voice wakes me from sleep each time, but I can never see the face or the person behind it. Everything in my being pulls me to find who they are.
