Thane crouched behind a stack of wine barrels and listened to the footsteps of passing guards. Breath shallow and silent, he peeked out. He stared at a tall and wide beige canvas, and the shadows of the figures inside. One male, one female. A strange vibration flowed through him, making his skin sensitive and prickly with anticipation, fury, calm. Tenebris burst from the opening, tossing aside the tent flap.
Thane expected a furious outrage to course through him. He’d imagined this moment, where he would run forward and end his father for good, but he was surprised when it felt like a weight lifted off his chest. And the tense coiling of his gut relaxed. Why did he still love him? Why couldn’t he cling to hatred, and believe all the evil he was? Yet seeing his father’s familiar stern face, the pale-blond hair, the way his spine was always rigid, flooded Thane with ease. Tenebris was truly alive. He knew that when he’d seen him at a distance on the hillside near Castle Dredwich before everything went to hell, but now he was merely yards away, and it was indeed him. Not a delusion or a trick.
Adjusting his body armor at the neck, Tenebris lifted his chin. “She better be well guarded,” he barked at one of the guards standing next to him. “How many are there?”
“Aldrich was left in charge of her. And I’m not sure, High King.”
“Is my son among them?”
The guard was silent for a moment. He and the other three exchanged quick glances. “Prince Thane?”
“Of course, Prince Thane,” Tenebris snapped.
“We don’t know.”
“Find him and bring him to me.”
Thane’s sweaty palm gripped tighter around the sword handle. His heart crashed wildly in his chest. He was here for Layala, not retribution, but his father was so close… and yet if he went to strike him down, could he do it? Maker, the regret that wracked him for weeks, haunted his dreams was all for nothing. Could he live with that a second time?
The four guards shifted nervously. “Bring him, sire? We thought he was dead.”
“Do what you’re told, or you’ll be dead.”
“But Prince Thane is—umm, dangerous. I don’t know how we can—”
A swift backhand cracked across the guard’s cheek. “I know what he is. I raised him, and he’s no fool. I have what he wants. He’ll come willingly to see his father.”
Tenebris wouldn’t just give Layala over, so what sort of offer could his father possibly have? He thought for sure the order would be to kill on sight. After all that transpired between them, Tenebris was willing to talk face to face? Wasn’t he worried Thane would kill him? And yet here Thane sat back on his heels, unmoving, when it would take minimal effort to take out those guards and have his father at the end of his sword. An easy, clean death. A twinge of pain in his center reminded him of the suffering both he and Layala endured these past few weeks on his father’s account. About the beatings he took as a child, and the screams of innocents on this tyrant’s account. He gritted his teeth and pushed up.
“Tenebris,” the female inside the tent called. Thane stilled at his mother’s voice, sinking back down into the shadows. “What’s going on?”
“Go back inside, dear. There are pale ones close.”
“I don’t care about pale ones.” Her voice was as sharp as a finely whittled pike. “Did you say Thane is here? Let’s put this mess behind us and settle the misunderstanding. I want my son back.”
“I don’t know if the matter can be settled, Orlandia. He tried to have me killed.”
She lifted her chin and put her hand on his arm. “I don’t believe that. Thane would never. Not my darling boy. He’s always protected you.”
His face twisted into a sneer, and he said in a low, raspy voice, “I remember that day quite vividly.”
“It’s that lowly elf mage you bound him to. She twisted his mind. I’m sure of it. She’s angry about the death of her parents, at your hand, need I remind you? Those feelings leached into our son.” Orlandia brushed her fingers down Tenebris’s cloak. “We can fix it.”
Thane slammed his eyes shut at the bitter anger softening inside him. Could it be fixed? Did life give him and his family a second chance? When he was young, he wanted nothing more than for his father to love him. For him to voice it just once. He wanted to beg him to care for him for any other reason than his connection with Layala. And though he hated it, those old feelings lingered even still. He worked diligently to become lethal, an effective killing brute for his father to try to earn his love. He couldn’t deny he was what he was today because of the elf king… and if he didn’t repair this relationship, he could never face his mother again. She would never forgive Thane if he murdered Tenebris, not especially now that she had her beloved husband back. So, could Thane too forgive like his mother wanted?
No. Maker above, how could he be conflicted about this? His father sent the dragon to break his mate bond so he could kill Thane and steal his mate. Ripped them apart without remorse. As if they could all live together as one big family? As if he could ever ask Layala to sit at the same table as the king who had her parents executed? This feud was about love and power and neither side would yield. He would not yield. He could not yield. Because Layala would make him choose and he could never pick anyone over her. He’d made that choice years before he ever even met her.
“Once we have our magic, everything can be settled. Thane can have his betrothed, and you can forgive what he tried to do to you. He’ll need convincing after you stole his mate. I’ve heard the kind of agony that causes. You hurt my boy, Tenebris.”
Tenebris pushed her hand away. “It’s not that simple. There are things you don’t know yet.”
She stuck a finger near his face. “I forgave you for having a child with another, and even allowed him to become part of our family, allowed him to befriend my son. You can forgive this. Make it that simple.”
Even his mother knew Aldrich was his half-brother and she never said anything? Why? Who was Aldrich’s mother? And did Aldrich betray him all for a chance at the throne? One thing Thane knew for sure was that Orlandia would never accept a bastard son over Thane, but did he have a claim?
“Psst.”
Thane tore his sight from his parents and glanced over his shoulder. Leif crept among the shadows of the gathered horses and then darted across the opening and kneeled beside Thane. “I found her. She’s—”
“Thane!” Layala’s shrill, desperate call struck him like an arrow through the chest. He shot to his full height, not caring if Tenebris, his mother or the guards saw him. How far away was she? The way her scream echoed off the rising cliffs distorted it. Turning to the east where her distant voice came from, he searched the dark. A skirmish between his father’s soldiers and pale ones raged on, but he couldn’t find her among the flashing metal in the moonlight and the shadows that clashed. Why wasn’t she guarded here in the camp?
He met his father’s gaze, but his muscles tensed. Run run run, get to her, and so he ran. Not entirely sure where he was going but he trusted his instincts to find her.
“Thane, come back here!” Tenebris bellowed.
But the only call he cared about was hers. His feet glided over the grassy landscape like he wore winged boots. He jumped over a set of broken barrels, slammed his shoulder into a guard, knocking him to the ground. A pale one dared enter his path. With a thought he snapped the hideous thing’s femurs and he buckled to the ground with a howl. Hold on, I’m coming.
“Thane!” Layala’s cry was like claws digging into his chest and tightening around his heart.
He’d never heard her sound this distraught, and the pounding of his heart intensified. What was happening to her? Who attacked her? Maker, all he could see was her blood, the pain on her beautiful face.
The sword in Leif’s hand glinted in the pale light as he caught up to Thane. “Damn it, I shouldn’t have left her.”
“You left her?” Thane snarled, as they flew over the grassy terrain. Then he saw it, the runaway cart careening down a hill he knew ended in a massive cliff. The horse came loose and bolted in another direction. She wasn’t being attacked or tortured; she was about to fall to her death. He could stop the momentum of small things but a raging cart? He pushed wind and imagined the cart’s wheels stopping and though the metal on wood squealed, it didn’t slow enough.
Shit. He pushed harder until his legs and lungs screamed with effort, until the muscles tore. “Laya!” Come on, shift through space. Do something! But he had no control over that part of himself.
One of her arms stuck out through the barred window, reaching for him. “Thane, help me!” Her voice was strangled and full of anguish. It hurt him to even hear. Magic warmed his palms and tingled through his fingertips again. He was close enough to see the lock and broke it with hardly more effort than he blinked. The door swung open, and she stood at the edge.
“Jump!” he roared and then snapped the back wheel with magic. The cart dropped into the dirt, pitching on its side but skidding toward the cliff feet away. She had seconds—a moment, but the grass ended and as if in slow motion like rain droplets slipping down a window, the cart disappeared over the edge with her in it. Her terrified scream pierced the night air. Thane’s heart lurched into his throat, no no no no. She couldn’t be gone. He was so close to her, so close! Her smiles, her laugh, the way she kissed him the first time and then shoved a knife to his throat flashed in his mind. Even though she’d wanted him dead, he wouldn’t ever forget the way a shot of energy pulsed into him when her lips met his.
The thud of his heart drummed in his ears. The pounding of his footsteps matched its pace, and without slowing, he leapt off the edge after her.
