Page 118

Their heads jerked sharply to the side, one after another. Five of them. Their swords slipped from their suddenly empty grasps, and they fell with their weapons, dead before they even left their saddles. The horses galloped past me as Kieran shouted—

Red-hot pain exploded near my collarbone, knocking me back a step. I sucked in a burning breath as I looked down to see an arrow jutting from my shoulder.

The eather throbbed violently, matching the pumping wave of pain radiating from my arm. The Primal essence poured into every cell and space in my body, filling my throat with that shadowy, smoky-sweet taste. The taste of death.

And that was what I became.

Death.

The Harbinger the lieutenant had called me.

“Oh, shit,” Reaver muttered from behind me.

I gripped the shaft of the arrow, feeling nothing as I tore it free. My lip curled as I caught sight of the shadowstone and the blood dripping from it—my blood. The essence sparked from my fingers and rippled across the arrow, burning the shaft first before seeping into the shadowstone tip, shattering it from the inside.

Under my feet, the road trembled and cracked open. Thick roots spilled out, unfurling, and then sinking deep into the mud. The scent of blood and rich soil grew heavy as the ground groaned. A shadow fell upon me as a blood tree grew, its bark a glistening gray. Tiny buds sprouted from the bare limbs, unfurling into bright red, blood leaves.

I heard shouts as Kieran reached for me. Calls to fire as Reaver clashed with the Royal Guards who streamed from between the trees. Another voice came from under it all. One that urged caution. Demanded the guards fall back. One I almost recognized.

Lifting my head, I scanned the soldiers, finding the archer to the side of the road, crouched at the trunk of a tree. My eyes narrowed as my will swelled once more. His neck twisted as did his body, bone cracking as he jerked sideways. The arrow released as he fell, finding a target in one of the Royal Guards. A sharp yelp of pain followed. The eather churned wildly around me, snaking between my legs, snapping off the ground, spreading toward the massive oaks. And that cold, aching, empty part of me grew and grew as I turned my attention to the others riding up on us. The bitterness of their fear, the hot acidity of their anger, and their salty resolve stretched out, filling that hollow space within me. I took it in. I took it all in as the shimmering cords stretched out in my mind, arcing across the road and connecting with each of them.

I turned it back on them, feeding them all that fear and anger. All the determination, fury, and…death.

They dropped their reins and weapons, clutching their heads as all that emotion poured into them. Their screams—their howls of pain—tore the air as I drifted forward. I glided between the anxious horses, their riders tumbling from the saddles both behind me and in front of me. They withered on the road, tearing at their hair as the churning mass of light and darkness pulsed, rippling out from between the prancing horses, searching and searching—

“That’s enough,” a shout rang out.

A voice that stopped me.

One I finally recognized.

I found it. Found her standing in the center of the road, a nightmare of crimson—a crimson coat like a second skin, buttoned from her waist to her chin. Inky black hair that fell over her shoulders, framing a face half-obscured by a mask of wings painted in a deep red.

But I knew it was her.

“You,” I whispered, and that one word reached her in a wave of smoke and shadow.

The Handmaiden smiled. “We meet again.”

She wasn’t alone.

I didn’t focus on the Royal Guards standing near her, their swords trembling. It was the others. The ones cloaked in the color of blood. Ten of them. None of their faces were visible. Nor were their hands, or any other parts of their bodies. But I knew in my bones that they were Revenants.

The Primal essence swirled and snapped around me, stretching out and then recoiling as it neared the Revenants. I felt the press of Kieran’s body behind me and heard Reaver’s low snarl. My attention remained fixed on her. “I’m not here for any of these cities,” I told her.

Her pale, pale silver-blue stare met mine. “Yet.”

“Yet,” I confirmed.

“I know what you’re here for.”

My fingers splayed at my sides, sparking embers of silvery fire and thick shadows. “Then you should know you won’t stop me this time.”

“Debatable.”

Anger pulsed through me, silencing the little voice that wanted to remind me of what I’d felt when the Blood Queen had ordered her forward—that desperation and hopelessness. Two things I’d felt over and over every time Duke Teerman summoned me to his offices.