Gathering of Shadows (A Darker Shade of Magic) (58 page)

“Of all the ships, Lila.”

“Are you going to tell me why you hate him?” she asked.

Kell didn’t answer. Instead he looked down at the Isle. After a few moments, he said, “The House of Emery is one of the oldest families in Ames. They have long ties with the House of Maresh. Reson Emery and King Maxim were close friends. Queen Emira is Reson’s cousin. And Alucard is Reson’s second son. Three years ago, he left, in the middle of the night. No word. No warning. Reson Emery came to King Maxim for help finding him. And Maxim came to me.”

“Did you use your blood magic, the way you did to find Rhy, and me?”

“No,” said Kell. “I told the king and queen that I couldn’t locate him, but the truth was, I never tried.”

Lila’s brow furrowed. “Why on earth not?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” said Kell. “Because I’m the one who told him to go. And I wanted him to stay gone.”

“Why? What did he do to you?”

“Not
me
,” said Kell, jaw clenched.

Lila’s eyes brightened in understanding. “Rhy.”

“My brother was seventeen when he fell for your
captain.
And then Emery broke his heart. Rhy was devastated. I didn’t need a magical tattoo to know my brother’s pain on that front.” He ran his free hand through his hair. “I told Alucard to disappear, and he did. But he didn’t stay gone. No, he turned up a few months later when he was dragged back to the capital for crimes against the crown. Piracy, of all things. The king and queen turned the charge over, as a favor to the house of Emery. Gave Alucard the
Night Spire
, installed him in the name of the crown, and sent him on his way. And I told him that if he
ever
set foot in London again, I would kill him. I thought this time he would actually listen.”

“But he came back.”

Kell’s fingers tightened around hers. “He did.” Her pulse beat against his, strong and steady. He didn’t want to let go. “Alucard has always been careless when it comes to precious things.”

“I didn’t choose him,” she said, drawing Kell back from the edge. “I just chose to run.”

She started to let go, but he wasn’t ready. He pulled her toward him, their bodies nested against the cold. “Do you think you’ll ever stop running?”

She tensed against him. “I don’t know how.”

Kell’s free hand drifted up her bare arm to the nape of her neck. He tipped his head and rested his forehead against hers.

“You could just …” he whispered, “stay.”

“Or you could go,” she countered, “with me.”

The words were a breath of fog against his lips, and Kell found himself leaning in to her warmth, her words.

“Lila,” he said, the name aching in his chest.

He wanted to kiss her.

But she kissed him first.

The last time—the only time—it had been nothing but a ghost of lips against his, there and gone, so little to it, a kiss stolen for luck.

This was different.

They crashed into each other as if propelled by gravity, and he didn’t know which of them was the object and which the earth, only that they were colliding. This kiss was Lila pressed into a single gesture. Her brazen pride and her stubborn resolve, her recklessness and her daring and her hunger for freedom. It was all those things, and it took Kell’s breath away. Knocked the air from his lungs. Her mouth pressed hard against his, and her fingers wove through his hair as his sank down her spine, tangling in the intricate folds of her dress.

She forced him back against the railing, and he gasped, the shock of icy stone mixing with the heat of her body against him. He could feel her heart racing, feel the energy crackling through her, through him. They turned, caught up in another dance, and then he had her up against the frost-laced wall. Her breath hitched, and her nails dug into his skull. She sank her teeth into his bottom lip, drawing blood, and gave a wicked laugh, and still he kissed her. Not out of desperation or hope or for luck, but simply because he wanted to. Saints, he wanted to. He kissed her until the cold night fell away and his whole body sang with heat. He kissed her until the fire burned up the panic and the anger and the weight in his chest, until he could breathe again, and until they were both breathless.

And when they broke free, he could feel her smile on his lips.

“I’m glad you came back,” he whispered.

“Me, too,” she said. And then she looked him in the eyes, and added, “But I’m not dropping out of the tournament.”

The moment cracked. Shattered. Her smile was fixed and sharp, and the warmth was gone.

“Lila—”

“Kell,”
she mimicked, pulling free.

“There are consequences to this game.”

“I can handle them.”

“You’re not listening,” he said, exasperated.

“No,” she snapped. “
You’re
not.” She licked the blood from her lips. “I don’t need saving.”

“Lila,” he started, but she was already out of reach.

“Have a little faith,” she said as she opened the door. “I’ll be fine.”

Kell watched her go, hoping she was right.

II

Ojka crouched on the palace patio, tucked into the shadow where the balcony met the wall, her hood up to hide her crimson hair. Inside this strange river castle, they appeared to be having some kind of celebration. Light danced across the stones, and music seeped through the doors. The cold air bit at Ojka’s skin, but she didn’t mind. She was used to cold—
real
cold—and the winter in this London was gentle by comparison.

Beyond the frosted glass, men and women ate and drank, laughed and spun around an ornate dance floor. None of them had markings. None of them had scars. All across the hall, magic was being used in petty ways, to light braziers and sculpt ice statues, to enchant instruments and entertain guests.

Ojka hissed, disgusted by the waste of power. A fresh language rune burned against her wrist, but she didn’t need to speak this tongue to know how much they took for granted. Squandering life while her people starved in a barren world.

Before Holland
, she reminded herself. Things were changing now; the world was mending, flourishing, but would it ever look like
this
? Months ago it would have been impossible to imagine. Now it was simply difficult. Hers was a world being slowly roused by magic. This was a world long graced.

Could a polished rock ever truly resemble a jewel?

She had the sudden, pressing urge to set fire to something.

Ojka
, came a gentle chiding voice in her head, soft and teasing as a lover’s whisper. She brought her fingers to her eye, the knot in the tether between her and her king. Her king, who could hear her thoughts, feel her desires—could he feel them
all
?—as if they were one.

I would not do it, Your Highness
, she thought.
Not unless it pleased you. Then I would do anything.

She felt the line between them slacken as the king drifted back into his own mind. Ojka turned her attention back to the ball.

And then she saw him.

Tall and thin, dressed in black, circling the floor with a pretty girl done up in green. Beneath a circlet of silver and wood, the girl’s hair was fair, but Kell’s was red. Not as red as Ojka’s, no, but the copper still caught the light. One of his eyes was pale, the other as black as hers, as Holland’s.

But he was
nothing
like her king. Her king was beautiful and powerful and perfect. This
Kell
was nothing but a skinny boy.

And yet, she knew him at first sight, not only because Holland knew him, but because he shone to her like a flame in the dark. Magic radiated like heat off the edges of his form, and when his dark eye drifted lazily across the bank of windows, past shadow and snow and Ojka,
she felt
the gaze. It rippled through her, and she braced herself, sure he would see her, feel her, but he didn’t even notice. She wondered if the glass was mirrored instead of clear, so that everyone inside saw only themselves. Smiles reflecting back again and again while outside, the darkness waited, held at bay.

Ojka adjusted her balance on the balcony’s rail. She’d made it this far by a series of ice steps forged on the palace wall, but the building itself must have been warded against intrusion; the one and only time she’d tried to slip inside through a pair of upstairs doors, she’d been rebuffed, not loudly, or painfully, but
forcefully.
The spellwork was fresh, the magic strong.

The only way in appeared to be the front doors, but Holland had warned her not to make a scene.

She pulled on the tether in her mind, and felt him take hold of the rope.

I have found him.
She didn’t bother explaining. She simply looked. She was the king’s eyes. What she saw, so would he.
Shall I force him out?

No
, came the king’s voice in her head. It hummed so beautifully in her bones.
Kell is stronger than he looks. If you try to force him and fail, he will not come. He must come. Be patient.

Ojka sighed.
Very well.
But her mind was not at ease, and her king could tell. A soothing calm passed through her with his words, his will.

You are not only my eyes
, he said.
You are my hands, my mouth, my will. I trust you to behave as I say I would.

I will
, she answered.
And I will not fail.

III

“You look like hell.”

Alucard’s words rang through her head, the only thing he’d said that morning when she wished him luck.

“You say the sweetest things,” she’d grumbled before escaping into her own tent. But the truth was, Lila
felt
like hell. She hadn’t been able to find sleep in Elsor’s room, so she’d gone back to the Wandering Road, with its cramped quarters and familiar faces. But every time she closed her eyes, she was back in that damn crate, or on the balcony with Kell—in the end she’d spent most of the night staring up at the candlelight as it played across the ceiling, while Tav and Lenos snored (who knew where Vasry was) and Kell’s words played over and over in her head.

She closed her eyes, felt herself sway slightly.

“Master Elsor, are you well?”