Escape from Duskmere Manor
Daphne
Cagliostro and Vexley had been right.
Emrys was a monster.
He’d used me to escape.
He’d watched me nearly die twice. Applauded me the first time.
The mystery he presented was almost unveiled. I knew what he was. Some ancient, forgotten god who could turn armies to ash. But whatever humanity he’d once possessed, the centuries had scraped it clean. He was colder than a grave.
And yet… his hand at my waist was feather-light. As if I might break.
He didn’t pull me close, didn’t speak. But I could feel every heartbeat of space between us. His warmth behind me sank through my clothes all the way to my skin.
This man—drunk on bloodlust an hour ago—was quiet as a shadow now. I shifted in the saddle, but there was nowhere to go. No way to ignore the heat curling low in my spine.
“Are you all right?”
His breath stirred the hair at the back of my head. Goosebumps covered my skin.
I closed my eyes, trying to shut out the memory of screaming demons and men torn in half by his spells.
“I am,” I lied. “Where are we heading to?”
For a while, we rode in silence, broken only by the calls of the night birds, the steady hoofbeats, and the wind in the trees. The night was quiet. For a moment, I was tempted to believe that everything that happened at Duskmere Manor had been a fever dream.
“To Charing Cross Station,” he said. “Liang will meet us there. We’ll catch the last train to Dover and take the morning ferry to Calais.”
I twisted slightly to see his face, searching for any softness. There was none. His silver eyes remained fixed on the path ahead. I shifted again—his hand at my waist pulled me closer.
Had I clawed my way out of my brother’s suffocating grip to end up captured by another man?
Then, the information reached my tired, overstimulated brain.
“Calais in France?” I asked flatly.
He nodded.
That Calais. Across miles and miles of sea.
So, the Unbidden might be getting me sooner than I thought. Fantastic.
His mouth quirked into a humorless line. “Don’t do anything stupid. You’re coming with me, little thief. Somehow, you stole a piece of my power, and I must get it back. Until then, we’re bound. Wherever I go, you follow.”
My head spun. I considered—briefly, wildly—jumping off that damned horse and vanishing into the mist. But Emrys must have sensed my intention. His grip tightened, firm and possessive, pressing me back against his chest.
“And after you get it back?” I whispered.
“Then you’re free to go wherever you want.” His voice dipped lower, darker. “And I’ll pay Cagliostro a visit. We have old scores to settle.”
I fidgeted again, testing him.
“Don’t,” he warned. His tone reminded me of the blood-soaked creature I’d seen incinerating dozens of Hollowborn.
“Why France?” I asked, stalling. If I could get him talking—maybe I’d find a chance to slip away later. I needed one moment of distraction.
He hesitated as if deciding how much to tell me.
“There’s a Surge coming. Like a volcano eruption—but of raw magic. One of the largest in decades. It’ll happen in Paris. If we reach the Crossroads in time, I can restore what was taken.”
“The Crossroads,” I murmured. “It’s where the ley lines intersect?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “So you remember your mission after all. Yes. My kind calls it a Crossroads. The Surge will peak in two days. If we get there on time, I’ll get what is mine. Then you’ll be free.”
I glanced at him. He wasn’t joking. This madman really meant to drag me to Paris.
All things considered, it wasn’t the worst idea.
Paris was closer to Italy. And with him, I might be safer than on my own.
I carried part of his power—maybe not out of kindness, but out of self-interest, he’d protect me from the Unbidden.
“If you think that finding any information about the Crossroads and the eruption timetables would have saved your life and brought you freedom, you’re beyond na?ve, Miss Daphne.
You have no idea what the Renegade is,” he said.
Anger stirred in my chest. All these men. Locking me up. Using me as a pawn. Then, laughing when I fought back.
I’d had enough.
Without thinking, I drove my heels hard into the horse’s sides.
The animal reared up. Emrys held tight, but his grip around me slipped just long enough. I tumbled into the wet grass with a grunt.
I scrambled to my feet, skirt heavy with dew, and bolted into the thicket. Fog wrapped around the trees like rags. My pulse hammered in my throat. I didn’t know where I was going—only that I had to get away.
Then something massive fell from the sky.
Knocked the breath from me. Pinned me to the forest floor.
Not something.
Someone.
The scent of blood, smoke and magic filled my lungs. Steely fingers closed around my wrists, pinning them above my head. I froze—staring into Emrys’s glowing silver eyes.
Dark wings arched behind him, blotting out the stars. His laughter spilled into the night, velvety and low.
I should have screamed.
But I didn’t.
“What part of stay close did you not understand, Miss Daphne?” he asked, amused.
His face was inches from mine. My eyes registered the dimple in his right cheek and the dark stubble on his jaw. Every nerve in my body screamed at the closeness.
Fear, yes.
But something worse.
Desire.
Unwelcome, untimely. I had no space for it—not when I wanted a life beneath the Italian sun. Not… whatever this was.
He leaned closer, and the indigo strands of his hair tickled my cheek.
“You better hope we find that horse you startled,” he purred. “Otherwise, you’ll be flying to Charing Cross.”
His weight didn’t crush me—he was careful, balanced on one elbow. His other hand still pinned my wrists, but something flickered in his gaze. Something almost… human.
“Then you better get off me, Emrys,” I said.
He stilled. And pulled back a bit too fast. When he stood, his wings dissolved into mist.
“It’s not wise to run,” he said flatly. “I’m your best chance of surviving this. These woods are crawling with Hollowborn—and worse.”
Excuse me? Worse? What could be possibly worse than undead flying demons craving human flesh?
That was a challenge to the imagination.
My pulse hammered in my ears. I gathered my skirts and stood up without looking at him.
A moment later, he disappeared into the fog.
“Miss Daphne!” his voice called from another direction. “I have our horse!”
I ran toward him, away from the black trees. He reached down and pulled me back into the saddle. I didn’t flinch. I let his warmth close around me like armor.
Trees gave way to cobbles. Fog peeled back to reveal lantern light.
The tension in my shoulders slowly loosened. We were back in London.
And I was still not free.