Shadows Before the Sun

After a long, tight hug, I kissed the top of Emma’s head and smoothed the wispy hairs that had escaped her ponytail. “Missed you, kid.”

“Missed you, too.”

Rex cleared his throat. The lifted, expectant eyebrow and the exasperated look in his lavender eyes had me nudging his foot with mine. “I know,” I said. “You missed me, too.”

His eyes rolled to the ceiling, but his lips curved into an attractive smile. He promptly removed his feet, stood, bent over, and kissed my forehead. “I did, actually.” And then he walked from the room, calling out, “And don’t forget the breadsticks, woman!”

Em laughed. “He’s so weird.”

18

“You can’t hold your breath that long.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. The lake’s not that deep. And besides, all you have to do is blink me in. You’re the Druid King, so I know you can do it.”

Pendaran and I stood in his private quarters, away from the main temple and courtyard. The breeze over the lake stirred the white curtains that hung on either side of the large opening to Pen’s private dock. He stood framed in the space while giving me his lame-ass excuses.

“You’re being a bit overprotective, aren’t you?” I asked. It was one thing to keep Ahkneri hidden and protected from the outside world—it was detrimental, in fact. But I wasn’t just anyone. I had every right to see her if I wanted to, more right than him for sure.

Pen turned and glowered at me, and I had to grudgingly admit, he was intimidating. Maybe if I hadn’t seen him turn into a dragon, things would be different, but once that image was seared into my mind, it was hard not to be a little leery of the guy.

“My borders are being crossed. My kin are at risk. Protective?” he asked mockingly. “Damned right I am. Why do you want to see her?”

“I just want to talk to her, to try and communicate. I have things I need to ask her, and she’s the only one who can answer.” If she chose to. “Look, I’m the one who wanted her protected in the first place. I’m lying to my boss and my superiors; I even lied to my own kid to keep her secret. Letting me in that cave won’t change anything, but it might save my life, which I’m kind of partial to, so . . .”

He stared at the water, arms crossed over his chest, profile as stubborn as his body language. “I stay with you the entire time.”

“Fine.” Even though we’d been through battle together and had trusted each other, it didn’t mean Pen trusted me with this. I supposed I couldn’t blame him. Anything could happen in that cave. Hell, if Ahkneri decided she wanted to take a tour of Atlanta’s hot spots, who was I to say she couldn’t take over my mind and make me release her? There were things that could go wrong. Very wrong. Having the Druid King by my side was a bonus.

Pen faced me, placed his gigantic hands on my jacket-clad shoulders, and we were off.

“Don’t move yet.” His deep voice filled the darkness as my weight settled back into me. “The floor is rocky.”

A light flared, followed by another. Sconces on the damp bedrock walls held dancing arcane light. It was green and dim, but enough to allow me to see.

The underwater cave was enormous, holding a huge air pocket deep beneath the lake. Water dripped in loud echoes. It wasn’t cold like I’d expected, but warm and humid. Pen reached out and snagged my hand. “This way.” He pulled me along like I was an errant child, still reluctant to have me in his private space.

The cave floor was uneven and filled with loose rocks. Even though I didn’t like being led around, I was grateful for the strength of Pen’s hand since it kept me from falling and twisting my ankle on more than one occasion.

Lights flared as we passed between rocks as high as my shoulder, finally coming to Ahkneri’s resting place.

Pen stopped and released my hand.

I’d forgotten how stunning the sarcophagus was, how large and significant. The thing had been carved out of one enormous piece of agate, so smooth it gleamed in various colors of honey, flaxen, and cream. Not a single marking lined the body. Only the thick agate lid bore a line of script around its perimeter—the same type of script on my arm.

As beautiful as it appeared, I now understood it for what it really was: a prison.

“I’ll wait over here.” Pen’s deep voice echoed in the cave as he picked his way over the rocks to a flat oval depression in the ground. I shouldn’t have been unprepared when he shifted into his dragon form, but just seeing it took me by surprise.

The light bounced off his black scales as he circled and then lay down, giant jaw resting on his front legs, wings folded against his back. He was so large I could hear his breathing from where I stood and see the slits of his nostrils move in and out with each breath. His eyes blinked and then stared at me calmly, quietly, that weird abalone color filtering across the irises.

Ahkneri hung at the edges of my mind, always that welcome, that whisper of acknowledgment. I turned back to the sarcophagus. Now that I knew more of what she’d gone through thanks to Sandra and the dream I’d had in Fiallan, I wanted her to be free. She’d been totally shafted. All she’d wanted was to live her own life, and to suffer like this was unimaginable and unfair.

Would this be my eventual fate? The thought left me a bit sick to my stomach.

I need to know, Ahkneri. I placed my hand on the smooth agate and pleaded in my mind. I need to know how to defeat Sachâth. Part of me thought the obvious: if she knew, then she would’ve defeated it a long time ago. But then knowing and actually doing were two different things.

I felt her smile. Weird, that. Please. Tell me.

I will show you instead.

Immediately, I was taken out of time and reality. I wasn’t sure if my body was still standing there in the cave or if I was really standing, in the physical sense, on the wide, level rock on a vast red plateau. But I sensed I was just a visitor, not part of the scene, not able to affect or alter anything around me.

Not that I could move if I tried. The scene playing on the plateau rooted me to the spot.

Ahkneri was there, dressed in some badass black armor and it wasn’t the polished, gleaming type; it was dented, bloodied, and spiked. Her black hair was in two long braids; she had what looked like war paint on her face—stylized symbols slashed across one cheekbone and around the corner of one eye. She held Urzenemelech in her hand, and the blade glowed like my arm had glowed.

She and five others, four males and a female, all armored, all wielding swords, fought against what I knew had to be Sachâth, only it wasn’t just shadow, it was like them, a physical body, but male and without the armor. The shadows were there, too, like an extension of its body, seeping from its skin like smoke, swirling around it, lashing out. The shadows were its armor and its weapons.

Red dust flew in the wind, grunts and steel echoed over the plateau. The fight was hard, nasty, and brutal.

It appeared as though they worked in three pairs. Each pair consisted of one without a helmet and one with. Ahkneri and a male. The other female and a male, and then the two males. The two females and male who fought without helmets were on point, and their partners worked in rotation with them, defending, giving them time to regroup and attack when necessary.

I was pretty sure since Ahkneri was without one, that the ones without helmets were First Ones, and the ones with were Disciples, and they were no less intimidating than the divine beings they protected.

The shadows flowing from Sachâth got a piece of the male First One, slicing through his arm, severing it. It fell, still gripping the sword. Before he could dodge, the shadows curled around him, enveloping him, and then like some fucking porcupine, shot him through with spiky shadows wherever there was a break or weakness in the armor. The First One’s wings shot out—wings as white as snow—released in panic, fear, death, I didn’t know, but a