Soon.
Then kill him, a far-away voice whispered before she shut it out. But her own mind was whirring with panic now, jumping from danger to danger.
It wasn’t just Renk and Cressida who posed a threat. The Shade Queen was still out there, hidden somewhere dark and deep. The king proclaimed her dead, as did most of the other kingdoms, but Haven knew better.
Then there were the citizens of Penryth and beyond to consider. Bell’s magick drew them in, made them crazed in a way that bothered her.
Never had Bell been more of a target . . .
A flicker of panic.
That’s all it took to crack open something inside her.
She felt her insides shift, felt something poke and prod her defenses, and then a trickle of cold seeped in, settling at the base of her spine.
You can’t keep me out, the darkness whispered. I am you.
Runes. She needed to calm down, but the idea that she could lose control set her pulse pounding in her skull, making things worse.
Now that she had powerful magick, her emotions were fragile things to be carefully dealt with—before they became weapons.
Calm down, Ashwood.
Sucking in a breath, she closed her eyes and counted runes, the way Archeron had taught her.
Illusion rune. Fire rune. Taste rune. Love rune . . .
Not helping. Her head spun; her breathing hitched; her veins tightened until they ached.
The kernel of cold twined upward, scraping over each knob of her spine, wending over her ribs and pooling beneath her sternum.
“Haven?” Surai’s worried voice broke through the darkness of her eyelids, but she blocked it out as she worked to silence her mind and the fears that fed the darkness inside her.
Let me in, the voice demanded. Or they will take everything from you.
Three long months had passed since they saved Bell from the Shade Queen.
Three long months of healing, where she should have forgotten the feeling of panic at watching the Shade Lord take him. Should have gotten over the bubble of agony lodged below her ribcage from knowing he was being hurt, possibly tortured.
Knowing he was scared.
But now, instead of finally being safe, they had just shifted from one kingdom of monsters to a new one. Except these monsters were worse, hidden beneath masks of nobility, making it near impossible to protect him . . .
Something was wrong. She came back to the now. The room was too quiet. That’s when she realized how cold she was. The chill so deep even her marrow felt frozen.
“Haven!” Surai hissed.
Haven knew what she would see when she opened her eyes.
Still, when she finally did look, the sight sent a surge of shock straight to her core.
The peacock was gone, replaced by a sinister, shadowy form rippling across the ceiling. The oily mist slithered and clumped until a familiar shape took hold against the mosaic of stones.
Instead of beautiful feathers, long, crooked limbs sprouted from a mangled body.
As Haven and the others watched in terrified silence, wings of the deepest black spread over the room like night falling. The temperature had dropped considerably, Haven’s breath spilling out in a silvery fog.
The silence became dread. Someone whispered, “gremwyr,” before their voice cut off.
No one else dared say the name of the monster used by the Shade Queen, as if just saying the word would conjure it into reality.
Except it was already here, and the only person who could stop it now was Haven.
But as Haven glanced down at the bluish light seeping from her fingers and felt the thousand needles of ice prickling her fingertips, she understood she wasn’t in control anymore.
Her dark magick had been set free.
4
Screams erupted around Haven. The crowd surged. A few guests managed to flee, but most stood frozen in fear as they watched the magickal gremwyr scuttle across the ceiling.
Memories of Bell’s runeday ceremony three months ago came roaring back. In her mind’s eye, Haven saw the gremwyrs storm the temple. Saw them murder countless innocents before kidnapping Bell.
Except this time there was no weapon for her to fight back with. At least, no physical arrow or blade to pierce this creature’s flesh. Because this thing, whatever it was, was a part of her.
Bell craned his head back and caught her attention, his bright blue eyes stretched wide with fear.
He remembered too. He was shaking. Terrified. The trauma of his capture displayed in his bared lips and shivering body.
Her throat clenched tight as she recognized the same betrayed expression from her nightmare.
Use me, the darkness whispered. Show them how powerful you are.
No. She shook her head as she desperately tried to rein the dark magick in.
But how? She tried calling it to her. Tried willing it back into the tiny little chunk of her soul she’d carved out to house it.
But she could feel its excitement. Feel its bloodlust as the creature stretched out its dark, monstrous body, feeding off the fear of those below.
Like a feral dog who’d been chained and starved and then finally set free, no amount of coaxing would command it to return before it sated itself.
Just like in her nightmare.
Who shall I kill? it whispered.
No one, she ordered. I don’t want you to kill anyone.
Liar.
Someone shrieked and the gremwyr dove straight for the royal table, a streak of blue and black, talons and wings. Shadows and death.
It was headed for Renk.
Nononono—
Cressida gasped and flung her arms out, knocking over a chalice of wine. With the burgundy liquid blossoming over the gold tablecloth, Renk shot to his feet. His hands lifted in a futile effort to protect his face as the great magickal beast neared.
Then the king’s bastard son dropped to his knees, the scabbard of his ceremonial sword scraping the stone, and ducked under the table.
Goddess Above, this was really happening.
“Haven,” Surai called, but even right next to her, she sounded distant, like she was yelling from underwater. “Haven, you need to close the door before that thing murders every mortal inside these walls.”
But Haven was frozen.
For a strange moment, she could do nothing but stare at her creation, caught between the contrasting emotions of terror and awe. The gremwyr was marvelous, its great wings perfectly rendered, its face so detailed she could make out the curved fangs protruding from its lipless mouth, the malice inside the monster’s reptilian eyes.
Perfect little ridges of bone spiked its hunched back.
It was darkness and hatred and fear wrapped into an illusion—it was her emotions, the ones she kept locked away, finally broken free.
The thing hovered over the table, its wing gusts blowing back the tablecloth and knocking over cups.
As if coming out of a trance, King Horace jumped to his feet. One hand on his crown, he didn’t even try to feign bravery or help his family as he scrambled behind four of the royal guards.
Eleeza rushed from her table toward Cressida and Renk. A short-sword flashed in her hand as she neared—she must have hidden the weapon under her dress somewhere.
She halted a few feet from Cressida and faced the gremwyr, her face tight with terror.
Brave fool. Haven’s respect for Bell’s unspoken fiancée was considerably higher—but that just made her possible death harder to swallow.
Cressida, on the other hand, was a statue. The only thing moving was her marigold hair, which blew back with each wing gust of the gremwyr. Her hands splayed over the table, showing off every silver and gold bauble adorning her long fingers.