Page 2 of Winds of Darkness

“Will you come to my bed tonight, Rayner?”

He’d known then that she had been the one to torment him for refusing her. He knew if he refused again, next time would be even worse. “Of course, your Grace,” he’d said gruffly.

She’d reached up, patting his cheek. “It is good to see you making wiser choices.”

That was the first time he’d questioned if the Baroness truly desired to keep them safe. He’d never had any reason to believe otherwise until that moment. Why would he? Not when it had been ingrained in him as a youngling that they were only safe because of her. They were blessed by the gods to live away from the rest of the wretched world.

But even on the nights he was notaskedto fuck her, he slept in her bed. Her “personal guard.” That’s what she called him anyway. Always by her side.

HerAsh Rider.

He still had his own quarters where his clothing and few personal items were kept, but he only went there to bathe these days. It had only been a year later that he’d discovered he had kin in these cliffs. Then his submission became more about keeping them safe rather than about trying to maintain his own comfort. Ever sincethat day Moranna had taken him to that producing room, he’d started noticing more and more things. Things that never seemed odd before but now made him uncomfortable. How some younglings seemed to simply disappear. They’d always been told their gifts had emerged and that they’d been assigned to their posts as was custom. But he’d started watching, consciously looking. They were never seen again. Then there were some males and females who looked at the world with dead, vacant eyes. They seemed to see through everyone and rarely spoke. He’d discovered they were all assigned to the producing rooms. He’d dug and dug and learned what happened in those rooms. Eventually he’d learned exactly what the Baroness was trying to do, why they were all here. It was during all this digging he’d come across his own records and learned he had siblings.

Breya and Aravis. Five and seven years of age when he learned of them. Aravis was his full-blooded sister. His mother had apparently died giving birth to her. According to the records, their father had also been a powerful fire Fae. It was his mother who had carried the Ash Rider blood though. There had been other notes written beside his mother’s history, but it had been written in a language he could not read. His father had sired Breya with another powerful fire Fae, the female required to drink a tonic of some sort for the duration of her pregnancy. All of this forced in the hopes of his sisters emerging with the Ash Rider gift.

It had taken him two weeks to figure out where they were being held. He’d finally found them in a small room tucked down a side hall on one of the mid-levels. They had been huddled together on a pallet of straw, no fire in the empty hearth. Aravis had black hair like his own and grey eyes. They did not swirl like his did, but his had not started doing that until his gifts had emerged. Breya also had grey eyes, but she had vibrant red hair and freckles smattered across her nose and cheeks. Both girls had shrunk back from him when he’d entered the room.

It took three days before they came near him. It took another few weeks before they began to trust him. Breya was more curiousand took to him faster than Aravis did. In time, he’d learned that they were kept in such a dismal state in the hopes that their power would emerge sooner in a bid for survival.

He’d decided then and there he was going to get them out. The simple fact that they had Ash Rider blood meant they were likely destined for the producing rooms. He had often wondered why he had never been sent to one of those rooms yet. It wasn’t as if he could ask Moranna. Then she would know what he’d learned.

Moranna.

That was the Baroness’s true name. Not that he ever called her that. He had found it written in a letter addressed to her when he’d been searching among her things while she’d bathed one day. The letter had been from someone named Alaric. He’d never learned who that was, but the letter had been written in that same language he had not been taught.

For nearly three years he had bowed to her every whim, had followed orders and carried out her wishes. And for nearly three years, when she slept deeply, he’d slip from her bed. He’d find his sisters, who had been moved to more comfortable accommodations when they had been unable to force their magic to surface. After he’d check on them, he’d disappear among his smoke and ashes beyond the cliff walls and plan how to get them out. He’d visited the main continent, mapped out places they could hide. He’d prepared every last detail all for this night. The night he would take his sisters and leave these godsforsaken islands forever.

Rayner moved silently through the passageways and down the three flights of white stone stairwells to the level where his rooms were located. He’d had small packs ready for weeks so that when the time came, it was one less thing for him to worry about. The packs held a change of clothing for each of them, dried fruit and nuts, small waterskins, and light blankets. Just enough to get them to a location across the island where more supplies were stored. He’d collected funds over the years, enough to pay one of the merchant ships to smuggle the three of them off the islands.

He hadn’t told his sisters they were close to being able to leave,not wanting to get their hopes up in case something went wrong and he had to delay things. Their powers still lying dormant was a blessing from the gods, to be honest. The wards around the cliffs picked up magical signatures. They wouldn’t have any, and he’d been working his way around them for years. No, the hardest part of this would be getting them out of the cliffs themselves because he could not carry others in his ashes and smoke. They would have to walk out the main entrance that was always monitored by no less than five sentries.

He already knew who was on guard duty tonight. Five sentries who liked to visit the mid-level rooms where the “power vessels” were held. The most powerful Fae who were forced to mate in the hopes of producing even more powerful offspring. “Practice for the producing rooms” the sentries would always chuckle crudely, winking at Rayner on their way by.

He would have no issues sacrificing them tonight. He wouldn’t carry guilt for them, unlike some of the other lives he’d been forced to take by Moranna. It didn’t matter that he’d had to follow orders to keep others safe, to keep his sisters safe. Those kills still left their marks deep on his soul.

He fished out the packs where he had them stashed into the sleeves of a heavy tunic in the back of his closet. Smoke and ashes swirled around them, taking them to a pocket realm so they wouldn’t need to worry about carrying them. He strapped extra daggers to his belt, sliding two more down his boots. A sword was strapped across his back. He swung a cloak around his shoulders, grabbing two smaller ones he’d stashed in the closet as well, before he silently stepped from the room, closing the door softly behind him.

No one would question seeing him in the halls. They wouldn’t dare. Not the Baroness’s personal guard. No one would say anything as he escorted two younglings throughout the levels. No one would likely bat an eye until he had the girls on the main level, heading for the passageway that would lead out to the beach.

They were older now. Breya was seven, and Aravis was nearlyten, but not nearly old enough to fully understand what was going on. He would get them out, and they could have normal childhoods for what remained of them. Their power could emerge naturally. They would never know hunger or discomfort again. He had shelter secured in the Water Court until he could find a way to obtain a portal to the Fire Court. The girls would both emerge with fire gifts when it came time, so the Fire Court was the obvious choice to make a home. He’d only managed to get to the Fire Court a handful of times in his scouting, but he could already picture their faces when they saw the Twilight Fires on the Tana River for the first time. Breya would giggle in delight. And Aravis? She would smile. A real one. One he had never seen on her face before.

He would tell them of his travels, of the things he had seen beyond the cliff walls. Breya would grow bored rather quickly at her young age. He would let ashes drift through the air for her to chase and play with. But Aravis? She would always ask him to describe the world. The sea. The night sky. Birds and fish and deer. But mostly, she wanted to hear about the sun. About how it gilded the world in light. How it warmed your face. How it rose and set every day, telling the realm when it was day and night.

At dawn, she would see the sun crest the horizon for the first time.

A small smile graced his lips at the thought. He rarely smiled here. Never had a reason to. Perhaps that would change too.

He came to the door of the small room that they had been sharing for the past three months, the wards recognizing his touch as most rooms beneath the cliffs did. He pushed it open, anticipating Breya’s excited squeal that came from her every night when he showed up, but what he found made his blood run cold.

Moranna sat cross-legged on one of the small beds. She wore a red gown with deep slits up the sides, the dress dipping just as low in the front. Her black hair flowed down around her shoulders, the red streaks glinting in the candles lit throughout the small space.

“Rayner,” she said with a pout on her red-tinted lips. “I am so disappointed in your poor choices.”

“Your Grace,” he said, immediately bowing.

The Baroness braced her hands behind her, leaning back on them as her dark eyes surveyed him. “There is no need for pretending, Rayner. Not anymore.” He stiffened, standing upright once more. Her lips were curved up in a pointed, malicious smile. “The young ones’ gifts emerged today.” Her smile morphed into a pout. “So incredibly disappointing. Basic fire gifts. Both of them. One would think with your blood in her veins, the oldest would have at least had a drop of Ash Rider magic. And the younger one? Scarcely magic at all. Mere sparks.”

“Where are they?” Rayner demanded, his voice a deadly growl that had Moranna sitting up straighter.