Black as Night

Chapter 1 The second time I traveled from the land of Parnesia to the shadowed forests of Raine, I was sixteen, and no longer a child. Instead of fearing the evergreen trees looming over the long road that ran from the town of Portknowe to the castle, I welcomed the sight. For the Darkwood was home to Thorne, whom I had not seen in months. My heartbeat quickened at the thought of him, and I shot a guilty glance at the young man sitting across the coach from me. Prince Kian of Fiorland, with his golden hair and generous nature, was the complete opposite of quiet, dark-haired Thorne. And yet, despite my yearning for Thorne, I had to admit that Kian and I had grown close during our recent ordeals in Parnese. Perhaps closer than was wise. The prince was supposedly meant for my stepsister, Neeve, who even now awaited us at Castle Raine, along with her father, the king. Sensing my regard, Kian looked at me with a questioning smile. “Are you ready to be home, Rose?” he asked. “Yes,” I said fervently. While Castle Raine wasn’t quite the home of my heart, it was far removed from Parnese and the threat of the red priests who’d tried to capture us there. Besides, I really had nowhere else to go. “I’m glad to hear you say so,” my mother said tartly from her place beside me on the velvet-upholstered bench. “Perhaps now you’ll appreciate what it means to be a princess living in a castle, rather than a fugitive of little means, running desperately through the streets.” As ever, my mother knew just how to jab at me with her words. Only the presence of Kian, and the dour Sir Durum, captain of the king’s guard, kept me from a rude reply. No matter what responses the wicked little voice inside of me whispered I should make… That voice had grown quieter in recent months, however, and I was grateful. Perhaps due to my recent illness, or perhaps because I was growing older, it lacked the violent force that had spurred me into foolish acts in the past. I hoped it would fade away altogether. And yet I also hoped it didn’t. There was a certain wild zest in heeding its promptings toward recklessness. The coach bumped oddly, and Sir Durum looked up, reaching for his sword. Then, with a crack, the vehicle listed sideways and came to an abrupt halt. I slid nearly on top of Mama, and Kian braced himself to keep from colliding with the captain. Sir Durum was already opening the door. He sprang out, sword in hand, and Kian was quick to follow. “What is it?” I called out the gaping door. A faint drizzle slicked the bushes growing along the low bank, and the air was quiet and misty. It didn’t appear that we’d been attacked, and I gently slid my own small dagger back into its sheath at my belt. “Broken wheel, looks like,” the captain said, displeasure clear in his gruff voice. “Oh dear.” Mama shook her head. “I hope we’re not trapped here for the night.” I carefully moved to the other side of the coach, so I wouldn’t have to remain squashed up against her. “Surely we’re not that far from the castle. We’ve been traveling all day.” “It’s an hour away,” Sir Durum said, his voice muffled from where he’d bent to inspect the rear wheel. The coachman joined him, and the two of them pushed at the wheel a bit, making the coach rock. “We could walk,” Kian proposed. “Certainly not,” Mama said. “It’s raining. Besides, Rose is still far too weak.” I grimaced, wishing I could argue—but she was right. I was finally recovering from the sickness that had sapped my health for months, but what should be an hour’s walk along the muddy road would take me twice that long. If not longer. It was hard to tell, with the lid of clouds over us, but sundown couldn’t be that far off. I glanced at the dark cedars lining the road. When night fell, we wouldn’t be safe from the things that roamed the forest. “Spoke’s cracked,” Sir Durum announced. “Well, fix it and we can be on our way,” Mama said, as if the captain of the guard were some simple cartman she could order about at will. He straightened with a scowl. “It’s not that simple. Your majesty,” he added belatedly. I knew he disliked my mother. After all, she’d abruptly married his liege, the King of Raine, three years ago, while the king was visiting Parnese—the very city we’d just fled. Their sudden wedding had come as a surprise to everyone. Myself included. Not that Mama had ever seen fit to let me know what she was thinking. She lived her life for herself, and no one else. Certainly not for a troublesome daughter, as I’d been reminded throughout my entire existence. Despite the rain, I clambered out of the coach, ignoring my mother’s outstretched hand. I wished Thorne would appear from that shadowy wall of trees to rescue us, but it was late autumn, and quickly dimming into winter. Thorne was gone by now—I knew it, though I hated the fact. Every fall he returned to Elfhame, the homeland of the Dark Elves, and didn’t return until spring. Six long, dreary months would pass before I could hope to see him again. The driver and Sir Durum began discussing the possibility of lashing stout branches on either side of the cracked spoke, the way one might splint a broken bone. I moved around to the back of the coach, which provided a little shelter from the rain, and Kian followed. Our boots squelched over the muddy ground. I let out a sigh, thinking of the dry climate of Parnesia. “Don’t worry,” Kian said. “We’ll be on our way soon.” “I know.” At least, I hoped so. “I wonder how Neeve is doing,” he said. I scanned his face, searching for a hint of fondness for my stepsister. “Did you miss her?” A shadow of guilt, an echo of my own previous emotion, crossed his face, though the expression passed almost before I could see it. “I just don’t want her to get ahead of me in sword work,” he said. I let out a dry laugh. “I doubt that’s possible. Are you fishing for compliments?” “Are you giving me one?” He winked at me, and I felt my cheeks heat, suddenly too aware of how close together we were standing. One more step, and I could be in his arms. Oh, but this was no good. Kian was fostering at Castle Raine in order to promote goodwill between the kingdom of Raine and his home country of Fiorland. The result of which, I’d been explicitly informed, was his expected marriage to Neeve. Why? I railed inside. Why does my stepsister get both Kian and Thorne, while I have no one? Because you don’t deserve them, my spiteful voice suggested. I ignored it and clenched my teeth against the sour reminder that, as usual, I was on my own. “Do you think we’re safe from pursuit?” I glanced down the empty road behind us. The thought of the red priests made a shiver run up my spine, and I drew my cloak more tightly about my shoulders. “Their leader fell,” Kian said. “The priests of the Twin Gods have other things to worry about, even if he’s only wounded.” Warder Galtus Celcio would recover, I had no doubt. But the sorcerous red priests weren’t welcome in Raine. I tried to tell myself that we were safe here, across the water. Besides, the island of Raine had allies no one else knew about—warriors who could wield magic unknown in the human world. Surely the Dark Elves would be able to repel the fire priests, if it came to that. Which it wouldn’t. I clung to the thought, to the belief that I was safe here. Even if it wasn’t precisely true. Faint lights bobbed in the depth of the forest, and I leaned forward, blinking. Was someone coming? Thorne, my heart insisted, though I knew it couldn’t be. “Do you see it?” I touched Kian’s shoulder. He followed my gaze, brows drawing together in a frown. “Too high for lanterns.” Glimglows, then—the mystical balls of radiance that had led me to the gateway located in the secret heart of the Darkwood. I began to move forward, and Kian caught my arm. “Rose, what are you doing?” he asked roughly. “You know better than to follow glowing lights into the forest. Especially at dusk.” “But…” The argument died on my lips. The lights were gone. And, if I was honest with myself, they hadn’t been the golden color of glimglows, but a marshy greenish-blue. Wisps, the tales called such things, luring travelers to their doom. “I wasn’t going to,” I lied. Kian shook his head at me and released my arm. “Just because we’ve been gone doesn’t mean the Darkwood suddenly turned safe in our absence.” He was right. In addition to the normal dangers of any wild woods, this one held all manner of magical threats. Poison-clawed drakes, sharp-mouthed boglins, nixies lurking in pools perfect for drowning unwary humans: I’d encountered them all and had no wish to repeat any of those experiences. The stub of pinky on my left hand hurt. I rubbed it through my glove, wondering if the dampness was making the old injury ache. I was also reminded that I carried the forest’s sigil—a leaf of binding inscribed on my inner arm. Not that it had done much to protect me. Rather the opposite, in fact. “That should do,” the coachman said, tying off the leather strapping he and Sir Durum had used to affix splints to the broken spoke. “We’ll take it slow.” The bracken on either side of the road stirred, and for a moment I saw the outline of sticklike figures with sharp, serrated teeth. “In you go,” Sir Durum said, gesturing to me. “Be quick, the light’s going.” I was well aware of the fact. Hastily, I gathered my skirts and, with Kian’s assistance, climbed back into the coach. He followed, then Sir Durum came in, a bit gingerly, as if unsure the wheel would hold. No rush of boglins rustled in at his heels, and I let out a quiet breath of relief. It seemed the Darkwood would let us pass without incident. This time. The vehicle dipped as the coachman clambered up to his seat, and then we rocked into motion. The wheel gave an ominous creak. Mama let out a little gasp, hand going to her throat, but the repair seemed sufficient. We were on our way once more. Silvery twilight had faded into the charcoal of night by the time we finally reached Castle Raine. It had stopped raining, though mist veiled the air and gathered thickly in my lungs with every breath. Another stab of homesickness for the dry climate of Parnesia went through me—but despite my sun-warmed childhood memories, that place was no longer mine. Torches mounted on either side of the castle gate sent wild shadows flickering across the stone walls as we passed, the teeth of the portcullis glinting darkly overhead. The coach clattered over the cobblestones in the front courtyard. At the sound of our arrival, a half-dozen servants filed out of the castle. They arrayed themselves along the steps, wet granite reflecting the thin flames of their lanterns. We had arrived. The coach rocked to a halt, the mended wheel creaking again. Though it had delayed our arrival, I hadn’t minded. Part of me wanted to stay in the forest forever, away from the hard truths awaiting me at the castle. Away from Neeve’s dark gaze, and the inescapable knowledge that I was, always, second best. Kian, ever the courtier, jumped out to assist my mother from the vehicle. Sir Durum followed more stiffly, then turned and offered his hand to me. “Thank you,” I said, setting my gloved fingers in his. It was a kind gesture on his part. While I wished I could step down from the coach without help, I was glad of his steadying grip. The smell of damp cedar wreathed around me. Beyond the castle walls, the evergreens of the Darkwood hushed, stirred by the night breeze. At the top of the long set of steps, the doors leading into the great hall swung wide and the King of Raine strode through. My stepsister, Neeve, accompanied him, a pale, dark-haired shadow at his side. They descended to where we stood at the bottom of the stairs. A long rectangle of light cast from the open doors reached before them, giving the illusion of welcome. “I’m glad you’ve returned safely, Arabelle,” the king said, holding his hands out to my mother. “I was worried when I heard you’d braved the ocean storms to cross the Strait.” “It was time,” my mother said simply, giving him a kiss on the cheek. I sent her a sharp look. Had she not told her husband of our desperate flight from Parnese? Sir Durum grunted, low in his throat, and I knew the captain would fully inform the king of all that had transpired—no matter what soft illusion of the truth my mother preferred. “Princess Neeve.” Kian stepped forward, the lantern light glinting off his golden hair as he bowed to my stepsister. “It’s good to see you after so many months. I trust you’re well?” “I am—and apparently better than Rose.” Neeve glanced at me. “You look terrible.” I bared my teeth at her, secretly amused that her direct manner hadn’t changed. “I’m glad to see you again, too.” Her mouth twitched, though with amusement or scorn, I couldn’t quite tell. Neeve had always been skilled at hiding her emotions. “Your rooms are ready,” the king said, holding his arm out to my mother. “Good—it was a tiring journey.” She slipped her hand around his elbow and let him lead her into the castle. Kian did the same for Neeve, which left me with Sir Durum. He grudgingly stuck his arm out in my direction. With a nod of thanks, I set one hand on his forearm and picked up my travel-worn skirts with the other. Silently, we followed the others into the clammy recesses of Castle Raine.