Chapter Forty-Seven
Adair
The fire crackled hungrily as Adair stared at it. A week had passed, and his life had returned to its routine with purpose. He glanced up at the small chest on his bookshelf that held it.
Tapping his foot impatiently, he turned to stare at the door. It had only been five minutes since he had given the guard the okay to bring the prisoners up. The firelight cast shadows across his face, and he settled into an emotionless mask. The instructions had been clear. Bring Emory in first and then the other prisoner.
The knock resonated through the room - through his core. The man he once was felt a nervous twinge. The voices that caged him in hissed in disapproval. He wasn’t supposed to feel human emotions by this point.
Wearing a fitted black shirt, pants, and cloak with his dagger tucked away at his belt, Adair adjusting his jacket, then said, “Enter.”
The door opened and Emory was shoved forward, falling on her knees before him. Her matted black hair framed her face, her cheekbones poking out. Her smell...well, rancid didn’t quite cover it.
A minute passed in silence; her eyes locked with his. Then as if snapped out of a trance, she bowed her head low, saying, “Hello, Adair.”
Her voice had a clarity long lost on him. Smooth as velvet and clear as crystal. He nodded. “Emory.”
A pale arm extended as she helped herself up. Her clothes were in tatters, but straight backed, she searched for her words. She had his full attention. “I am here...”
He couldn’t help himself when he interrupted her, “To join me, yes. That was quite an entrance you made.”
Her eyes shone wickedly. “I have returned from the dead as you know.”
“It would seem that way.”Adair’s heart stuttered painfully when he realized he had missed her.
He studied her, at a loss for words. There was no flicker of fear or disgust as she took him in as well, more of a curiosity blooming.
She was not broken—not yet.
“Why should I trust you? How do I not know that after so many years, you aren’t here to kill me?”
Her eyes darkened. “You are my king. Given our history, I thought you would be interested in a deal. We both know our past does have some bearing. Besides, I have information that you will find useful.” Her lips curled back in a dangerous sneer, and adrenaline coursed through him.
Rebel information. He wouldn’t jump at the bait. Not yet.
“Before joining me, you will have to pass a series of trials. You must understand that I can and will sharpen you as my sword. But cross me...” he paused. “I will find out if you are trying to betray me, and I will kill you.”
Raising a delicate eyebrow at him, she asked, “Aren’t you interested in what I have to offer?”
Stopping in his tracks, he took her in.
“Adair, I know you want to join our families. Think about it. We are the last of our lines. Together, we would be unstoppable. I would be your queen.”
The darkness within him reeled in revulsion, where as the human part of him stopped and let that sink in: a union.
It’s what he had always wanted, always dreamed of. For a split second, hope started to course through him, but those iron doors came crashing down, trapping him once more. The voices chorused in approval as that familiar ice of nothingness filled him.
He adjusted his cuffs, saying, “I cannot trust you, and until you prove yourself to me as an equal, you will be my prisoner. As I said, I will sharpen you to be my sword.” Motioning to the guard, the door opened, and another guard stepped in.
There was a flicker of something he couldn’t place in Emory’s eyes as the prisoner was shoved forward roughly, and he staggered into the room. He was just as dirty, his breath ragged as he stared at Adair with a predatory fixation.
He had the most golden eyes. Golden eyes that Adair would know anywhere. Brokk Foster.
Smirking at Emory, Adair tried to gauge her reaction.
Emory muttered something under her breath then lunged for the guard’s sword behind her.
Brokk started to mutter a strange incantation, and Adair felt something stir within him. With a growl, Brokk lunged forward, hand outstretched toward his throat and far too humanly fast for Adair to react.
Emory was faster. A scream tore from her throat, and running forward, she slammed the blade deep into Brokk’s gut, and it sliced him open, the life spilling from him. Emory panted heavily, staring down at him when he dropped to the floor.
Adair froze.
Her green eyes were on fire as she looked at him. “So, is that a yes?” She wiped the blade clean across her leg.
Adair buried his shock, as he took in Brokk Foster’s lifeless body. In return, he raised his eyebrow at her. “We will begin tomorrow at dawn.”
He watched the blood stain his carpet and turned black in the flames.
Epilogue
Ash floated gently through the wind as the remnants of the house crumbled. Embers pulsed in the night, and the creatures of the forest scurried past.
Something was off about the forest. It was the tiniest of movements as the ground shifted, gently at first and then more frantic, coals and rubble flying. Four black figures rose up from the ground, and sickly green light pulsed off their bodies. The woods had gone silent as the first figure lowered its hood, revealing its pitiless black eyes and sickening grin.
The Oilean moved to stand in a circle, each of the sisters clutching an emerald rock. They took a deep breath in unison and whispered, “Peyton is dead.”
Tucking their gems in their robes, they took in the foreign world around them. The willowy trees looked like skeletons in the night. Grinning at each other, they knew that they had succeeded: Brokk Foster had freed them from
