I shake my head. “I was born in Indiana. I have a whole life—”
“You have nothing but me, my child.” His sharp snarl echoes off the barren walls. “You and I are everlasting, and we will always be together from this day forth.” His tone softens, and something verging on actual warmth seeps into his words and multiplies my goosebumps. “I would have found you sooner, but Callandra sent you to earth as an exchange. I don’t know why she chose to do so twenty-one years ago. Perhaps you were fading? Perhaps it was because Cecile came of age during that time?” He shrugs and continues running his cold fingers along my scalp. “Callandra went to the Ancestors soon after. I didn’t know about you until you returned to Arin. Callandra hid you too well. The soulstone you bear, it disguised you from everyone but me. Blood calls to blood.”
“That’s not true.” I clasp the stone in my hand. “I have a mother and father on earth—”
“Every changeling does,” he chides. “And you were no different, but then again, you were completely different, weren’t you? No friends, a distant mother, no other family, no one to care about, and no one who cared about you.”
“I had friends.” My protest is admittedly weak.
“And then you came home,” he continues as if I hadn’t spoken. “I didn’t understand the why of your return until I questioned Cecile and the human version of you. Cecile wouldn’t tell me at first. I must admit I had a good laugh when she cried as I tortured her friend.” His tone turns teacherly. “Because humans are pets, my dear one. Not friends. Certainly not equals. But Cecile is a tender-hearted fool like her mother. Or, I suppose I should also say, like your mother.”
“My mother.” I can’t contain the confusion, the utter shock that rocks through my mind like aftershocks that don’t seem to end. “If Callandra is my mother, that would make Cecile my sister?”
He taps the tip of my nose. “Correct. Cecile didn’t realize you were sisters. She only knew her mother instructed her to come to earth and find you once you’d aged twenty years. I suppose Callandra believed you two would hit it off. But her blood doesn’t call to you, not like mine. You are a child of darkness and cold winter winds. When Cecile sent you to Arin so she could have her human pet with her on earth? I felt you arrive. Finally, an heir of worth.” He strokes my cheek, and I have to fight my gag reflex. “My only daughter.”
None of this is true. Is it? It can’t be. My breathing comes too quickly, my lungs aching. I want to run as far and as fast as I can, but I’m frozen to this spot, locked to this impossible story told by the scariest creature I’ve ever encountered. “I’m human,” I say weakly and tug on my ears. “I don’t have fangs, my ears are normal, and I don’t have magic.”
“You don’t?” He leans forward his black eyes almost level with mine. “You killed, did you not? In the Red Plains? I felt it.”
I swallow hard, my mouth going dry. “I had to. Vanara was trying to kill me. It was self-defense. Anyone would have done the same.”
“Is that so?” A sneer creeps across his lips, the crimson-tipped fangs far too long. “Can just anyone kill with merely a touch?”
The blood drains from my face. “How do you know about that?”
“Did you feel anything then?” He runs his long finger under my chin and forces me to hold his gaze. “When you took her life? You felt it.” His mouth widens in a grin. “The surge of power. Her bits of magic and life adding to yours, making you stronger.”
“I-I don’t know.” I wrap my arms around my middle.
“Yes, you do.” He sits back, eyeing me contentedly. “You know exactly what I mean. You have my power, my blood, my dark heart. You are the heir I’ve awaited.”
Footsteps on the stairs behind me have me whirling to see what’s coming.
“She’s the one you’ve been waiting for?” Cenet gains the top step, and levels me with a malevolent stare. I cringe away until I hit the throne, the bones digging into my back.
Shathinor grips my shoulder as if reassuring me. I pull my knees up and hug myself.
“This sniveling child is your heir?” Cenet’s forked tongue darts out and wets his lips as he lifts his gaze to Shathinor. “Did you forget about me, father?”
4
Leander
Gareth sleeps, the color still drained from his face, his breathing labored as he lies on a table in one of the rough border cabins. I sit next to him as the wind howls through the trees, my rampaging thoughts creating the snowy din outside. Valen had already drained himself at the skirmish, and only had enough to bring Gareth back from the brink of death. But he struggles, his life like a fraying thread.
Beth sits across from me, Gareth’s hand in hers as she stares into the flames. She hasn’t said much since I found her, her usual saucy banter buried under a mantle of dismay.
Rising, I begin to pace again, the roaring fire doing nothing to warm me. Not when Taylor has been taken from me. Ravella sits cross-legged, her eyes white as she sends her feral self into the vale to seek out my mate. She’s been like this for hours, and each second that ticks by is a particular agony.
My bond with Taylor is stretched too far, so close to snapping. It was only just beginning to grow strong, to allow our minds to meet without saying a word. But I can barely feel her now. And it isn’t enough to track her.
“Valen’s resting.” Gray stomps into the cabin, his broad shoulders brushing the doorframe on either side. “Thorn is a hawk watching the crossing, and Tavaran is on the verge of tears, I think.” He grins. “So tough in his golden armor. But put him in a snow bank up to his neck, and he shivers like a new foal.”
“Gray—”
He waves a hand. “I took him out … After he cried.” His expression turns solemn as he glances at Gareth. “No change?”
“No.” My voice is a hoarse whisper.
Gray sits on the stone hearth in front of the fire and pulls his fur from his shoulders. “Plan?”
“Get her back.” My hands curl into fists as a million worries trample through my mind. Is she injured? Terrified? Mistreated? Worse?
“Any idea where she was taken? The Gray Mountains are wide. So many peaks and valleys, places to hide.”
“I realize that,” I snap.
He nods. Gray has never been one to get his feelings hurt. Tough and resilient, he’s the perfect soldier.
“Ravella can locate her. Surely.” He scratches his red beard. “Only a matter of time before we go on the hunt.”
“Who died?” Gareth’s weak voice barely rises past the crackling fire.
The smallest bit of hope blooms in my chest as I turn to him. “About time.”
Beth exhales, and her chin drops to her chest.
“Are you hurt?” Gareth tries to reach for her.
“I’m fine.” She looks up, her eyes glistening. “I’m fine now.”
“Worried for me, were you?”
Her impish smile returns, though subdued. “Worried you were going to die before admitting how much you like me.”