Ravished By the Revenant

Prologue

Iwatched him during the battle. The final one, where he burned down my coven’s village to get to his rival. As the warlord swung his massive great sword, his broad shoulders, made broader still by the spiked shoulder guards he wore, cast garish shadows on the bodies of my dying sisters.

Understand that Aldric is a brutal ruler.

He was lord of four territories before his thirtieth year, and he does not care who he kills in his bid for territory.

He is a conqueror: cold, imperious, bloodthirsty.

So it comes as no surprise to find him alone in his great hall now, quietly sipping wine from a jewel-encrusted goblet, sprawled in his seat like it’s a king’s throne.

“I smell you, witch,” he says, not bothering to raise his voice. It is the kind that carries across battlefields, and the distance between us is no match for its force.

I slink out from behind one of the stone columns decorating the hall, gracious still.

Once, I was beautiful enough to charm emperors, whisper sweet words in their ears, securing my coven’s safety.

Now I’m of no interest to a handsome, virile man like Aldric.

He shows no fear as I approach. It will be his downfall.

“Where is your sword, butcher?” I ask, fighting to keep my voice level; I will not give him the satisfaction of baring my heart to his merciless gaze.

He raises one black eyebrow imperiously, then sighs like he is bored with our conversation already. “I am having it cleaned.”

Of my sisters’ blood. Among others.

“You might regret not having it here,” I whisper as I stop at the foot of the dais.

Aldric chuckles, his leather clothing creaking as he leans back. His smile is confident, his ring-adorned fingers loose around the stem of the goblet. A man who truly fears nothing.

But he will. Oh, he will.

“What will you do to me that your sisters could not, crone? Your magic is slow. Feeble.”

My back straightens under the challenge. I know what I came here to do. I am resolved, and yet, he still manages to rattle me.

I look at the blazing fire instead of the man, the flames high like they’re reaching for something. Or wanting to get away from something. Perhaps the warrior they have been lit for.

“Your men have long since retired, warlord. Your servants longer still. Why do you sit in the dark alone?”

My question has him pausing, blinking just once. “I prefer celebrating victories in my own company, crone.” He tilts his chin at the double doors behind me. “Leave my castle while you still can.”

I laugh at his threat, a hollow sound. “I have nowhere to go, warlord. You burned my home to the ground. Tell me, did you delight in lighting the torch?”

Aldric tilts his head, considering. “No,” he finally says without inflection. “I feel no particular way for anyone or anything that comes between me and my quarry.”

I take a sharp inhale. Would it have been worse if he had delighted in the killing? Or is this casual indifference the final injury to my sisters?

Observing me, he brings the goblet to his mouth again. The dark liquid clings to his lips like a lover, and his tongue darts out to lick it. He truly is a handsome man, the warlord. I doubt it will serve him in what’s to come.

“Are you here to curse me, witch?” he asks, his voice carrying a slight mocking edge. The warrior believes himself invincible.

It is my turn to smile. “I am not here to curse you, warlord. It is done. I merely wanted to see your face as it dawns on you.”

A small frown appears on his strong brow. “Are you addled, crone? I would know if a curse was placed on me.”

“Would you?” I ask mildly, eyeing his goblet.

A dumb man would not have gotten as far as Aldric has in such a short time.

His dark blue eyes snap from my face to the wine, rage igniting like the flames in the hearth.

With a shout, he throws the goblet at my feet.

Not much remained inside, but the liquid splattering over my cream underskirts is clearly blue.

“What poison did you give me, witch?” Aldric demands, rising to his feet. He towers above me, and I have to crane my neck. But I am not afraid. My daughters are safe in the city. I have lived long enough.

“Not poison,” I answer, allowing my lips to curl into a satisfied smile. “Your wine was laced with souldust. Only yours, mind you. I would not want you to have company for what is to come.”

The warlord is in front of me in two quick strides, his large hand wrapping around my neck. He could probably snap it with one motion.

“And what is to come, witch?” he asks through gritted teeth. “What manner of ailment do you believe will befall me?”

I scoff. “No ailment, warlord, never again. What is dead cannot be ill. You will languish unchanged for eternity, confined to this castle while everyone around you dies. Your injuries will not heal anymore. Every mark will be permanently etched onto your skin. You will be a revenant, confined to a decaying body until the world is no more.”

Aldric’s eyes narrow, his upper lip curling in disgust. “Why should I believe you?”

“Because I have nothing left to lose, young conqueror. This will be the final bit of joy I have in my life,” I answer honestly.

Something in my words, or perhaps the way I say them, must convince him that what I claim is the truth, for his expression goes slack.

If he were to see himself through my eyes, he would be convinced; there is a glow in his gaze now, one that hails from the other side.

The souls of his victims have taken root in his body. He is now one of the undead.

Aldric’s breathing grows harsher with every inhale, a bellow building in his chest. Before it reaches my ears, I am gone.

But he will never forget me. Or my sisters.