16. Chapter 16
Lunette
Rowan whipped around so fast I was certain he’d torn his stitches open.
The moment he hit his feet, shadows exploded from him.
Sleek tendrils and thick, coiling ropes of black magic poured across the floorboards like ink spilled from a barrel.
They multiplied in the wavering hearth light, swallowing the floor, the rafters, the furniture in a disorienting tangle of living blackness.
Dark mist rose up from the conjurations and crept into every corner, consuming the room whole.
This was too precise to be reflex. Too controlled for panic.
He’s hiding us.
Cold poured through the ruined doorway, sharp as a blade.
I was already moving toward the edge of the bed before the shiver finished crawling down my spine.
I wasn’t defenseless, but I wasn’t a trained fighter either.
My best chance of helping Rowan was to let myself be grabbed if they came for us.
Not a strategy I would’ve recommended in most situations.
Skin to skin meant easy contact for my magic to do what blades couldn’t. I wouldn’t win a fight that way—but I might end one.
Through the roiling dark, a shape resolved in the pale light bleeding through the doorway. Tall. Broad. Still in a way that living things rarely were.
Gods help us.
Rowan’s pursuers had found us. He needed my strength, not my panic.
I dropped off the bed just as dozens of Rowan’s shadows lashed out, snapping at the intruder like a pack of starving hounds. The combined strikes cracked against a gossamer-thin shell of power that, despite its seemingly fragile appearance, proved to be stronger than stone.
The wild magic that surged from the stranger in response made my skin crawl just before the floor trembled, and dust fell from the rafters.
Power like that did not belong indoors. A muffled screech of terror ripped from my throat before I could stop it. I’d never felt so much power all at once in such a tight space. It pressed against my skin like the air before a lightning strike.
Rowan pivoted, one swift glance assessing distance and angle.
He didn’t look back to see if I approved.
He simply decided, catching me by the waist to pull me behind his back.
With all the magic swirling around in the cabin, I hadn’t sensed him conjure a sword and an obsidian tower shield alongside our defensive wall.
But there they were—him squared behind both, braced for his second fight of the day.
The shadows condensed, pulling from their sprawl into the shape of a wall bristling with jagged protrusions at our backs. I braced for pain. For my end. For anything.
But nothing touched us, and the rumbling quickly stopped.
A deep voice cut through the mist, rattling my bones. “Down, Shadowborn!”
It wasn’t a request. Not even truly a shout. The command struck like a bell tolling in my skull.
Rowan froze. “Emrys?” Rowan’s voice echoed off the wooden walls, uncertain and stripped of all its earlier authority.
“Yes, you idiot.” The silhouette shifted, just enough for the mist surrounding us to part and reveal a glint of gold—an embroidered hem, perhaps, or metal at his wrist. “Was that a woman I heard?”
I considered speaking. Briefly. Then decided I enjoyed being alive.
Rowan made a sound beside me that lived somewhere between a snarl and a prayer for patience. “Does it matter? Get out.”
Relief crashed through me. Then confusion chased it out. He knew the man who’d just broken down my door?
Before I could dwell on that, a second set of heavy boots crossed the threshold behind Emrys. And then a third voice carried in from outside, riding the freezing air through the ruined doorway. “Nisien, is he okay?”
Undeniably a woman’s voice, anxious and breathless.
Gods above and below. Was there a queue forming at my door?
“Cursed…” Rowan muttered, dragging a hand over his face. Then, louder—a hiss more than a whisper: “Did you bring Nisien and Isca?”
Isca? The name rang a faint bell in my memory. Emrys too…
The second silhouette—Nisien, I surmised—turned his head just enough to answer the unseen woman. “He’s fine… I think.” The last two words sounded extremely unsure.
Emrys’s attention returned to us. “Are we going to fight, Shadowborn?” He sounded genuinely delighted by the possibility.
“If he doesn’t,” came Nisien’s voice, dry and edged with irritation, “I might for breaking another bloody door.”
The woman snapped with weary exasperation, “Enough!”
As Emrys stepped forward, Rowan’s shadows peeled back in measured increments—just enough for me to see him clearly for the first time. Emrys filled the threshold in a full suit of armor like Rowan’s, with a blood-red and gold cape hanging across his back.
As tall as Rowan, he had a similar build.
He removed his helm to reveal disheveled black hair framing a scarred face.
It looked like someone had taken a blade to his lips, eyes, and forehead—and he’d simply refused to die.
And his eyes…his frigid blue eyes burned with so much magic I nearly lost my breath.
The remnants of the door crunched under his boot as he crossed deeper into the cabin. Even with Rowan standing more relaxed next to me, something about this man, about his magic, made me tense up. I couldn’t shake the feeling of claws dragging across my skin as I looked at him.
Emrys took in the room. The shadows. Rowan standing exactly between him and me, holding a conjured sword.
And then, finally, his gaze caught on me—my half-unlaced bodice, my tangled hair, the bedsheets still twisted around my legs.
Rowan shifted half a step, just enough to block the worst from his view.
Of all moments to be barged in on, it had to be this one.
The blue flames in Emrys’s eyes immediately dimmed. He turned away abruptly. “My apologies,” he said, his voice turning almost sincere. “I expected enemies, not…”
Rowan’s stance eased but didn’t soften.
Before I could decide whether to be insulted, frightened, or mortified, the second man stepped into view, fair-haired where Emrys was dark, but the same build, the same bones.
Too similar not to be family. His expression made it clear he was thoroughly enjoying what he’d walked in on. My cheeks went impossibly redder.
The same woman’s voice came rushing closer. “Emrys? Nisien? Owain’s okay?”
Owain? Another familiar name.
“Very,” Nisien replied, a hint of a laugh in his voice.
Light flooded back into the room as Rowan’s shadows disappeared all at once. He glanced back at me, where I was still partially obscured from their view by his body. A tilt of his chin asked me to join him by his side.
As I moved forward, the female speaker stepped into the cabin in a flurry of silk and warm furs. Emrys turned toward her with a softened expression, though his eyes flicked back to me, landing on my ears in a moment of hesitation that made my stomach twist. Did he think I was a threat?
Her bright blue dress shone against the dim room.
Her clothes were exquisite, the kind I’d only ever seen on nobles when I’d visited other villages on festival days.
She was trim, features delicate, with blonde hair pinned into an intricate braid.
A small swell beneath her bodice marked a pregnancy.
She stopped short. Her gaze swept from Rowan to me in a single, assessing glance then her bright green eyes landed on me. “Hello.” Her voice was gentle. “I’m Isca.”
Beside her, Emrys bristled. “Queen Isca,” he corrected, in a way that made me think it was a habitual snarl.
Queen.
Her smile tightened. “There’s no need for that among friends.” Her voice didn’t waver.
Next to me, Rowan’s face contorted into a grimace, his head shaking in disbelief as if he too couldn’t fathom how his day had come to this. But my heart was already sinking through the floorboards.
Rowan had called the intruder Emrys earlier. With that blue magic glowing in his eyes…his armor…
Dear gods. The cursed King of Darreth stood in my cabin. And beside him—the queen and the golden prince.
My breath came in short, ragged pulls I fought to hide. I put one hand over my diaphragm, hoping the steady pressure would help my breathing calm. The confusion had moved past my mind and settled deep in my gut.
Isca turned to Rowan, her friendly demeanor giving way to worry for me. “Owain, who is this?”
My lungs simply forgot how to work. I had known he wasn’t truly Rowan but hearing another name turned in his direction was something else…
The room lurched. I looked back at Rowan—Owain?—but his face was unreadable, shadows traveling across his skin like agitated vipers.
“Lady Lunette,” he said eventually, not looking at me.
Lady?
The names were already a barrage, but a title that didn’t belong to me on top of them felt like the floor dropping out a second time.
Isca’s gaze flicked between him and me, and something sharpened behind her eyes. Her face then took on a measured, diplomatic expression. “Gentlemen.” Her tone shifted, suddenly crisp. I liked her immediately. “Lady Lunette and I are going to speak outside. Alone.”
Emrys’s head snapped toward her. “No—”
Owain cut him off quietly, with a seriousness I felt like pressure all the way down to my bones. “She is a grand magus of healing in ability if not name. Treat her with due respect or you will get more than the fight you’re hoping for, Stormdan.”
The two men stared, their auras colliding with a silent force that made the space between them buzz with an energy that felt ready to explode. Emrys’s jaw tightened before his gaze shifted toward me. For one breathless heartbeat, I was certain they would come to blows.
“Emrys,” Isca said again, slowly, like someone very used to handling powerful creatures. “Trust me. Trust your friend.”
He exhaled one long, reluctant breath, and the faint blue glow in his eyes dimmed. Slowly, reluctantly, the Beast of Darreth stepped away from the broken doorway.