Page 37 of A Touch of Shadows

Music came through the trees, the lullaby she had been hearing in the quiet moments, deep in the woods and their dark shadows. Such a soft and gentle sound. It lulled her to the edge of sleep. It seemed like so long since she had actually rested. If she just closed her eyes, and listened to that song, and let it take her?—

A branch broke in the thick undergrowth behind her. She stood to her feet, scanning the treeline, looking desperately for Finn, hoping it was just him. But Finn moved noiselessly, and whoever this was did not. They tried, but they were not as stealthy as he was. She could hear them, coming closer.

Heart thundering, she waited, trying to ascertain the threat. Then, in one horrible instant, she saw them through the trees. And they saw her.

With a shout, men in the garb of Ilanthian soldiers burst from the trees, coming towards her. Wren bolted in the other direction, heedless of where it might lead. She only had the book and the locket, all the packs abandoned at their makeshift camp. She only had an idea of which way Finn had headed, but she knew she was running in the opposite direction now. But all she could do was run, scrambling over fallen trees and moss-covered rocks, stumbling through a shallow stream then up into a gully. It angled down the hillside, sheer rock hemming her in on either side.

This was a disaster. What had she been thinking? She didn’t even know where she was going and the sound of pursuit was close behind. She could hear men shouting to each other, as well as horses and dogs. They were close, too close, and she had no way out.

At the end of the gully, a sheer rock face rose before her.

She turned around, hoping, praying for the time to dart back out into the forest itself. But the way was blocked already by the Ilanthians. They advanced slowly, lazily, eyeing her like a pack of dogs with a fox at bay, and she backed up until the rock pressed hard against her back.

There had to be a way out. There had to be.

The insidious whisper that ran through the back of her mind was hardly a surprise. She reached out to it and it answered, the touch of magic dark and enticing. It wound its way through her and this time she welcomed it, clung to it like a lifeline in a storm. A song, a murmur, a promise. The music of the shadows called to her. This kind of magic didn’t hurt her, would never hurt her…

She had no choice. She had to keep her wits about her. She wasn’t trying to drive away shadow kin this time, or heal their poison. Her enemies now were just men. And she could use the shadows to deal with men.

The othertongue danced on the tip of her tongue and instead of light she found the deepest shadows of the gully and called to them. They stirred lazily at first, and then awakened, coiling up around her like serpents ready to strike.

The men stilled, their eagerness draining away to rising fear. She could smell it on them, putrid with sweat. Good, this was good. They wanted her to be small and afraid. And now their situations were reversed. Her hair rippled around her as if moved by a breeze and her strength grew like a wave.

All she had to do was reach out, seize the shades uncoiled and ready, and the shadow kin would come when she called them. They would tear this sorry pack of hunters to pieces and she would watch. She would revel in it. She would make them sorry. Every last one of them.

And when she was done… when she was…

She closed her eyes.

There was a voice behind the darkness calling to her. Endless and dark and pulling her in like a vortex, swallowing her down. She struggled against it, this new horror suddenly making her aware of how close to the edge she stood.

‘Don’t fight it,’ said a familiar voice. It shouldn’t be familiar. She had heard it only in her dreams and it chilled her as much as it set a fire in her veins. But she knew it. Her whole body reacted to it instantly and her eyes snapped open, vision returning in a blinding flash of light. He stepped through the gap made by his men, tall and slender, dressed in a long surcoat of the finest leather tooled with patterns of silver. Beneath it, his mail shimmered like water in sunlight. His long, white-blond hair caught the last glimmering of sunlight in this dark place, illuminating him. And his face…

His face was beautiful. Not just handsome. So much more than that. It could have been carved from marble by the finest craftsman, high cheekbones, eyes the shape of almonds, a strong jaw and a mouth that twisted in a triumphant smile. His silvery grey gaze seemed to laugh at her and Wren felt the power in the shadows all around her purr at his approach. She released her hold, her rage draining out of her with the sight of him, leaving behind only the bitter aftertaste of fear.

Crown Prince Leander of Ilanthus – that was what Finn had called him. But she knew him. The scent of him, the feeling of his touch, his breath against her skin.

The man from her nightmares smiled wolfishly. ‘Well, little bird, that was quite the chase, wasn’t it?’

CHAPTER 21

WREN

Leander approached slowly, as if Wren was no more than a frightened animal to be tamed and won over. All around her the shadows seemed to bend back, slipping her grasp and letting him close in on her. The song went silent, escaping out of her grasp with a laugh. The traitor.

‘What—what have you done?’ she gasped, still trying to form some kind of rudimentary defence. There wasn’t enough light here, not for her purposes, and by reaching for its antithesis, she’d lost the chance to use what there was. Elodie could have worked a wonder, she knew that, but Elodie wasn’t here. All she had was a feeble excuse for magic that was failing her when she needed it most.

‘Nothing, my little bird. But we are not enemies, you and I. You know who I am.’

She shook her head, even though it was a lie. She knew. She just didn’t want it to be true. She didn’t want them to take her back to Ilanthus to whatever dark fate awaited her there. But she couldn’t seem to move and there was nowhere to go anyway, no escape possible.

He drew closer, his hand extended to her. ‘Wren?’ he asked. ‘That’s your name, isn’t it?’

‘How do you know that?’ she snarled at him, and behind her some of the shades made a vain attempt to stir again. Her hair rippled with a breeze in the otherwise still air, its dark length moving like a living thing.

For a moment his pale gaze flickered to it in interest, studying its movement. And his smile grew a little softer.

‘I know you from my dreams, my sweet little bird. Let us start afresh. I will not harm you. I will not touch you unless you wish it. But we have a place for you, a throne, if you will have it. We’ve been waiting for you for so long. And we have searched for so many years for you. You are a wonder to us, a treasure. You are everything we have been waiting for.’