Page 1

Chapter

One

ARA

Three months earlier

It didn’t work. The marking is still there and even darker than before, its edges harsh on my pale skin.

Gods, what now?

I fall back onto my bed, covering my eyes.

But when I open them, I stare right at that damn black mark in the crook of my right arm again. What if this means the king is right to fear people like me? What if I truly turn into something evil? And how am I going to hide it?

If scraping off my own skin doesn’t work, nothing will. I’m plain and truly fucked, which means my family is too, and I’m once again the disaster ruining their lives.

I’ll have to tell them .

I groan.

The handle of my door jiggles and is followed by a knock.

“Why is your door locked?” my brother asks.

“Go away, Ben. I’m not alone and naked,” I shout.

He chuckles at that. Ben and I share not just our birthdays but also our humor, and thankfully, he gets my sarcasm.

He knocks again.

I get off my bed and check that my sleeve hides the mark before opening the door. My brother saunters in and throws himself on my bed in much the same fashion as I have before.

“Hey, you’re in your armor,” I protest.

“So are you,” Ben replies, looking pointedly at my training gear of form-fitting black leather armor over a dark tunic and soft boots.

“Yes, you’re lucky I’m dressed,” I quip, and he snorts.

“You care too much about the fate of others to put anyone under Ian’s or Dar’s command in that position. But if it had been Ian and not me…”

“He would have kicked in the door.” I finish his sentence and sit down next to him. We look at each other and grin. Darren and Ian, our oldest brothers, have many strengths, but sarcasm and humor are not among them.

“What are you doing here?” I ask after a while of companionable silence.

“I just wanted to see my favorite sister,” Ben replies, playing hurt.

“I’m your only sister,” I answer dryly.

“Okay, my favorite sibling, but don’t tell the others I said that.”

“You have to say that since I’m your twin”—I poke his side—“and I don’t think they would be surprised to hear it.” His grin mirrors mine.

Despite not being identical twins, we look very much alike.

We both have our dad’s changing bluish-green eyes and our mom’s blond hair, only his is short and mine is long and currently braided up.

When we were little, we were often confused for each other, but Ben is much broader and a hand taller than I am now.

My eyes catch on the markings running down his right arm. All gifted have them since magic marks its wielders.

“Did your markings spread up and down equally?” I ask. He gives me a quizzical look but humors me.

“No, they started down the arm first and then up until I reached my full potential.”

“How long did it take?”

“About a year?” He shrugs.

“Did you ever hear of someone covering up or losing their markings?”

“No. What are you getting at?”

“Oh nothing, I was just wondering… Does your gift feel like a living thing?”

“What’s with the hundred questions today?” I have his full attention now. “Have we all been mistaken, and you are suddenly gifted instead of cursed?”

I slap him, careful to hit his armor instead of his bare arms. “Thanks for reminding me. I totally forgot I risked your lives by simply existing,” I snark.

“Shit, Ara, you know I didn’t mean it like that,” Ben says, sitting up.

“No need to dip it in honey. I’m the monster in the wardrobe, and everyone would be better off if I didn’t exist.” I jump up and shrug. I’ve grown up with this knowledge, so I have no idea why it affects me like this all of a sudden.

My mind taunts me by replaying the black mark on my skin.

“Fuck. You know I don’t think that,” Ben says. “If the fates had twisted the threads, it would have been me born cursed instead of gifted. It isn’t your fault.”

“Let’s see if you still think so once I start drinking down magic like water and go on a killing spree,” I reply dryly.

“Those are stories to scare children.” Ben shakes his head. “There’s no reason to be afraid of your immunity to magic unless you are a greedy old man who fears what he can’t control.”

“I don’t think the king would be pleased about your description.” I grin, trying hard to convince myself that Ben is right.

But there are things he doesn’t know, things I’m too scared to admit out loud, even to my twin. Like every time my bare hands touch his skin—or anyone else’s who has a gift—something within me reacts. There is a whisper, a sliding, a movement of something that shouldn’t be. A pull. It terrifies me.

“So why are you here?” I ask, attempting to change the topic.

“I went to see Mom and Luc and—”

“You were hurt?” I round on my twin now and scan him from head to toe. Mom and my brother Luc run the infirmary at Fortress Blackstone, an active outpost in the Barrier Mountains, and the only home I have ever known.

Ben would only seek them out during the day if he was hurt during training or combat. Since I trained with Ben this morning, I know it wasn’t the first.

“Nothing big. A little poison splattered over my hand when—”

“Where were you? And why weren’t you wearing gloves?”

“If you would let me finish my damn sentence, you would know all of that already!”

I gesture for him to go ahead.

“We escorted Master Chapman over to the Ice Coast’s bridgepoint.

He swears they have the best fur, and he can’t get anything like that from the hunters around here…

” He sees my pointed look. “Well, anyway, we were attacked on our way back by some of Arachne’s maidens, and poison splattered on my skin when I beheaded one.

” He shrugs. “Mom fixed me back up, and now it’s like nothing ever happened. ”

That’s another reason being immune to magic is a curse. Healing magic doesn’t work on me either.

“What were those nasty, eight-legged monsters doing so close to the road during the day?” I ask.

“The days are getting shorter. Today is the equinox. The offerings will be moved soon…” Ben shrugs. “Maybe they were hoping to get lucky?”

“Do you think they plan like that?” The thought of monsters and demons actively planning their attacks is troubling. Ben shrugs again.

“Who knows what or if they think at all,” he replies. “Dammit, now you derailed me again, what I meant to say is that Mom wants you to come over… something about measuring and ordering dresses.”

I groan.

The two-toned blare of a horn sends adrenaline shooting through my body.

Heads-up!

A high-pitched screech, then a single tone follows.

All clear!

Ben and I hurry over to the window. My room is on the third floor, so we have a good overview of the courtyard, the gates below, and the gray and bluish-green sea of mountains surrounding us.

My gaze is instantly drawn to the majestic shapes of three huge birds descending in slow circles: two brown, one white—two Rukh, one Strix.

They share the characteristics of predators, with curved beaks, short necks, and sharp talons, but unlike ordinary hawks or eagles, they are big enough to carry off a pony, maybe even a horse, and their breastplates and harnesses gleam whenever they catch the light.

They are too high to make out their riders yet, but skyriders circling the fortress can only mean one thing: Darren is back.

“Whoever is last to hug Darren has to do the honors at the offerings tonight,” I suggest, and Ben grins at me, the dimple in his right cheek coming to life, mirroring the one in my left.

“Deal,” he says, and I throw open the window.

“Not fair.” Those are the last words I hear before he crashes out of the door, his steps thundering down the stairs while I climb out the window and over to the rainspout.

I’m in the courtyard within minutes, standing back while I watch the birds approach.

Rukhs are about the size of a war horse but stand taller and take up much more space with their wings spread.

The Strix is even bigger, about one-and-a-half times their size.

They look fierce with their breastplate, the chanfron to protect their head, and the weapons—spear, bow, and crossbow—strapped to their harnesses.

The three birds set down as one in a triangular formation, the Strix taking point and bearing two riders instead of one—one of them my brother.

A door bangs open behind me, and I grin when Ben stops next to me, his breath labored.

“That was cheating,” he accuses.

“No, we never specified how we would reach the courtyard,” I say while I watch the riders dismount. “And you could have climbed as well.”

“We both know that no one climbs as fast as you do,” he replies, and my grin widens.

Dar walks over to us, and as soon as there is enough space between him and the birds, I launch myself into my brother’s arms with a delighted squeal. He catches me like he has done all my life and chuckles.

“Aren’t you too old for that, little sparrow?” Darren asks, and I roll my eyes.

“Only if my goal were to appear dignified, which it isn’t,” I answer. “You’re alright, aren’t you?” I demand to know while holding on to him. Ever since he took Dad’s place as the king’s commanding general two years ago, I’m worried we’ll lose him, too.

“I’m fine,” Dar reassures me softly.

The skyriders step up behind him, two men and one woman.

All of them wear the dark gray uniform of the skyriders—a form-fitting body armor, helmets with a black feather crest, and greaves and bracers protecting their forearms and shins.

Winged swords, the emblem of the skyriders, are etched in silver on their chest.

"Has the infantry finally realized it’s more fun to have women around?” one of the skyriders asks, his gaze wandering over me.

“Eyes off my sister, rider,” Dar barks, making the rider’s eyes widen and flinch away from me. His companions chuckle.

“My apologies, General Blackstone,” he replies, his voice suddenly all business.