Winds of Darkness (Lady of Darkness #6)

Prologue

He waited until Moranna was sleeping. He always did. They had been doing this dance for nearly three years now, ever since he had learned he had sisters.

Two of them.

One full-blooded. One half.

She was pretending she didn’t know what he had found out. He was pretending he didn’t know she knew.

Rayner slid from the bed. Moranna’s naked form didn’t move.

The white sheet was draped low, exposing her olive skin.

Black hair with vibrant red streaks throughout fanned across the pillow.

He hadn’t been asked to fuck her tonight, but he would have.

Anything to keep her focus on him rather than his sisters.

She never forced him, as if she were some benevolent master over all of them. As if they were given such a choice.

Wise choices.

That’s what she always encouraged them to make.

He’d declined the first few times she’d asked him to come to her bed, finding the idea … awkward to say the least.

He had just been assigned as one of her personal guards after over two decades of training.

Two decades of learning to wield ashes as weapons.

Two decades of learning to move among the smallest amount of smoke.

Two decades of violence and brutality and helping to keep those beneath him in check.

It was the natural order of things. He was one of the most powerful Fae on the Southern Islands.

Power dictated status. There were few above him, which is why he had been promoted to one of the Baroness’s personal guards.

He hadn’t realized that included serving her in every way.

But the first time he’d declined her invitation to her bed, he’d spent the night in a cold sweat.

He hadn’t slept at all. Anxiety and fear had clawed at him throughout the darkest hours of the day.

There wasn’t anything in particular that had him pacing around his windowless quarters.

He was one of the few Fae who had more than a small bedchamber, but none of the spaces had windows.

Not when they were housed inside enchanted cliffs.

A colony hidden away from the world for their own protection.

If others discovered what kind of power they had, they would want it for themselves.

The Baroness kept them protected and safe.

That’s what he had been taught to believe.

The second time he had declined her invitation, he’d spent the entire night paranoid that someone had found them.

He’d wandered around the various levels of the cliffs like a madman.

Not wanting to tell anyone about what was going on and appear weak, he had performed his daily duties without any reprieve the next day.

A few days later, the Baroness had requested he accompany her into one of the producing rooms. He’d never been in one.

One of the few rooms he did not have unlimited access to.

He’d followed the Baroness up her private endless staircase, her red gown swishing around her ankles.

She’d looked back over her shoulder at him, a coy smile he wasn’t sure what to do with on her lips, before she held her palm to the door.

He’d felt the wards fall, recognizing her touch, and she’d beckoned him to follow her in.

When he did, he’d fallen still. There was a young Fae cowering in a corner, tears streaming down her face.

She could scarcely be past her first bleeding.

She certainly hadn’t entered her Staying yet.

Her golden hair was a mess, and she was in a nightgown, not the usual white linen shirts and pants everyone wore in the cliffs.

Her icy blue eyes were wide and full of terror.

A male stood off to the side, arms at his sides, wearing only loose-fitting pants.

“I’ve tried, your Grace,” he’d said, his eyes fixed on the ground.

“I know you have, Tyrion,” the Baroness had replied sympathetically. “Unfortunately, we need her wind magic, or she would be assigned elsewhere.”

The male had said nothing in response, just stood waiting, his eyes never leaving the floor.

The Baroness had moved forward, crouching down before the female. The young Fae had scrambled back, pressing into the corner. “Please, your Grace. Please do not make me do this.”

“But you want to do this, my dear,” she’d coaxed softly, reaching out and brushing back a strand of hair from the girl’s face.

Her red-painted nail slid along her jaw until she pressed it beneath her chin, tilting her head up.

“My sweet child, I need that wind magic to be shared with Tyrion. You desire that too, don’t you? ”

“I …” She’d faltered, her brow furrowing. She’d shaken her head as if coming out of a trance. “No. I do not want this.”

Rayner had watched as the Baroness’s lips tipped up into a pleased smile.

“You are strong as well. Good,” she’d purred.

Faster than Rayner could track, the Baroness was gripping the female’s jaw, and the girl let out a whimper.

He’d forced himself to stay rooted to the spot.

“You will do this, Catelyn. And for your insolence, you will not enjoy it, even though Tyrion would have made sure you did. But now you have lost such a privilege. Perhaps next time, you will make wiser choices.”

Rayner felt fear and torment and … lust ripple in the room. He shouldn’t feel any power in this room. The walls were made of shirastone to stop Fae from using their power.

Then again, it never stopped him from riding among the ashes.

But the power ripple was not what shocked him.

It was that it came from the Baroness. He had always known she was powerful, despite never knowing what her actual gifts were.

How else would she maintain control over the hundreds of Fae on these islands?

He knew now. The Baroness could manipulate emotions.

She’d stood, staring down at the young female. “But Catelyn?”

“Y-yes, your Grace?” she’d stammered, her gaze fixed on the floor.

“If there is a next time, you will face punishment at the hands of my Ash Rider.”

The young female had paled even more, her eyes darting to Rayner, who could only stand there.

Just as rumors swirled of the Baroness’s power and how you did not wish to be on the receiving end of it, rumors swirled of his own abilities.

Some true. Some false. All manipulated by the female who ruled over them.

As Rayner had followed the Baroness out of the room, he’d glimpsed Tyrion moving towards the girl. He’d quickly pulled the door shut behind them. As it clicked into place, the wards reconnecting, the Baroness had turned to face him.

“Will you come to my bed tonight, Rayner?”

He’d known then that she had been the one to torment him for refusing her. He knew if he refused again, next time would be even worse. “Of course, your Grace,” he’d said gruffly.

She’d reached up, patting his cheek. “It is good to see you making wiser choices.”

That was the first time he’d questioned if the Baroness truly desired to keep them safe.

He’d never had any reason to believe otherwise until that moment.

Why would he? Not when it had been ingrained in him as a youngling that they were only safe because of her.

They were blessed by the gods to live away from the rest of the wretched world.

But even on the nights he was not asked to fuck her, he slept in her bed. Her “personal guard.” That’s what she called him anyway. Always by her side.

Her Ash Rider.

He still had his own quarters where his clothing and few personal items were kept, but he only went there to bathe these days.

It had only been a year later that he’d discovered he had kin in these cliffs.

Then his submission became more about keeping them safe rather than about trying to maintain his own comfort.

Ever since that day Moranna had taken him to that producing room, he’d started noticing more and more things.

Things that never seemed odd before but now made him uncomfortable.

How some younglings seemed to simply disappear.

They’d always been told their gifts had emerged and that they’d been assigned to their posts as was custom.

But he’d started watching, consciously looking.

They were never seen again. Then there were some males and females who looked at the world with dead, vacant eyes.

They seemed to see through everyone and rarely spoke.

He’d discovered they were all assigned to the producing rooms. He’d dug and dug and learned what happened in those rooms. Eventually he’d learned exactly what the Baroness was trying to do, why they were all here.

It was during all this digging he’d come across his own records and learned he had siblings.

Breya and Aravis. Five and seven years of age when he learned of them.

Aravis was his full-blooded sister. His mother had apparently died giving birth to her.

According to the records, their father had also been a powerful fire Fae.

It was his mother who had carried the Ash Rider blood though.

There had been other notes written beside his mother’s history, but it had been written in a language he could not read.

His father had sired Breya with another powerful fire Fae, the female required to drink a tonic of some sort for the duration of her pregnancy.

All of this forced in the hopes of his sisters emerging with the Ash Rider gift.