Into the Shadows by Linda K Hopkins

Chapter 29

In the end, there was no choice. Pip had to live, which meant the Drameara had to die. The Ancient gave her a small vial of clear liquid.

“You must drink this,” she said.

“Me?” Lark was immediately suspicious. “What is it?”

“Bloodbane. It will do nothing to you, but it will temporarily dampen his abilities.”

“Then why am I drinking it and not him?”

“Don’t be a fool! If you go to him and offer him a drink, his suspicions will immediately be aroused. But if he gets the bloodbane from your blood, well, he won’t be any the wiser.” She watched as Lark examined the vial. “Drink it,” she said, “or your brother dies now.”

Lark glanced over at her brother. He was in a firm armlock, and his mouth had been gagged, but he shook his head violently. Turning away, Lark lifted the vial to her lips and drained the contents.

“Good.” The Ancient smiled and flicked her tongue. “How do you feel?”

“No different.”

“Exactly. Now my man here will give you a knife – I think you’ve been learning how to use such things, yes? Make sure you aim for the Drameara’s heart. And if you do anything, by word or deed, that indicates to him that your brother’s life is at stake, or that I am involved, your brother will be killed instantly. You know that I can monitor what happens through his eyes, and I will be watching you through him.”

“Why do you care if he knows? He’ll be dead shortly after.”

“My reasons are of no concern to you. Do as I say and your brother will live. Stray from the plan, and he will die.” She nodded to the man holding Pip. “Lock him in a cell until the deed is done.”

Lark watched as Pip was dragged away, then turned back to the Ancient. “How can I trust that you’ll do as you say and let him go free?”

She shrugged. “I give you my word that he will not be killed once the Drameara is dead. You can choose to believe me or not.”

Lark gave a small nod. They both knew she had no choice. If she did not do as the Ancient commanded, Pip would certainly die. If she did, he may yet live.

“Where do I find the Drameara?” she said.

“My man will take you once he has finished locking up your brother.”

In what seemed like a few short minutes, Lark found herself standing outside a wooden door behind which, the man had assured her, was the Drameara. Tucked into her boot was a thin stiletto blade which the man had given her on the way.

She drew a deep breath, and slowly pushed open the door. The Drameara was sitting on a bed, his back against the wall, his hands dangling over his knees. His dark eyeswidened as they flew up to meet hers, and he quickly rose to his feet as Lark stepped into the room and closed the door behind her.

“You shouldn’t be here, princess! How did you find me?”

“I asked one of the guards and he showed me the way.”

“He showed you the way?” He frowned. “No guard would do that.”

“The Ancient said he could. She said I already knew all your secrets, so it didn’t matter if I knew where you slept.”

“I see.” He rubbed his chin. “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to see you, Kalen.” He raised an eyebrow, and she hurried on. “Since I’m now here, in the dragon’s lair, there seems no point in remaining angry with you. We both know there is something between us.” He was still watching her closely. “I like it when you drink my blood.”

“What is this, princess?”

“It’s just, er …” She faltered when she saw his tattoo glow dimly.

“Yes?” He crossed his arms and gave her a pointed stare.

“Urgh!” She raised her fists and hit them against the wall as frustration poured out of her. He was immediately behind her, catching them.

“What is going on?”

She pulled herself free and turned, and he took a small step back. His chest was bare, and the silver dragons glittered faintly. Lifting her hand, she ran her fingers along the curve of one.

“Stop,” he whispered.

“Why?”

“You know why.”

Her finger slipped to his nipple and she flicked it; his lips parted, and she moved her finger back to the dragon, scratching it with her nail. His gaze grew unfocused and he drew in a shuddering breath. He grabbed her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing her palm before running his lips up her wrist. He lowered her hand, and then his lips were on hers, hard and demanding. His tongue delved into her mouth, exploring deeply, and she wrapped her hands around his neck, pulling him closer. His mouth slid to her neck, his lips on her skin, and she shuddered.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting hers. “What is going on?” he asked again.

She stared at him, taking in every detail of his face; his eyes, so dark they barely had any color, the thick, black eyebrows above. His cheekbones were high, and his jawline slightly square. A strong, masculine face. His lips were full and red from kissing her. A tear slipped from the corner of her eye.

“You should have killed me when you had the chance,” she said.

“No. I told you before, I could not do it. I wanted to, especially when I learned who you were. The pampered, overfed daughter of the commander, pleading for your brother’s life. But that was not what stayed my hand – I am immune to the pleas of the pathetic. There was something else. Something that stirred my blood, and I knew that I was stuck with you.”

The tears were coming faster now, and he wiped them with his thumbs. “What is this, princess?”

“I wish things had been different, Kalen. I wish … I wish I had never gone to collect those herbs.”

“Then you would already be married to a man who would shackle you and abuse you. No, I don’t believe you mean that.”

His hand slipped to her neck as he brought his mouth back to hers, and he kissed her again, with far more gentleness than he had ever kissed her before. Her heart constricted, and she pushed him away. “I want you to drink my blood,” she said.

His eyebrows rose. “You know that I would have to change?”

“Yes.”

“And you want to see me like that?”

“When you drink my blood, it does something to me.”

His gaze met hers. “And me.”

“Then do it. Drink my blood.”

He stared at her another moment, then shook his head with a laugh. “You really are a strange one. You were definitely misnamed when they called you Lark. You should be named Falcon, or Kestrel. Maybe I’ll call you Peregrine from now on. Although Snow is spot on.” He lifted a strand of her hair and rubbed it between his fingers. “So fine and pale, and your eyes, they pierce me with ice. You really want me to change?”

“Yes.”

He turned and snatched a jar from a table beside the bed. Pulling the stopper out with his teeth, he brought it to his lips and swallowed a mouthful, then poured some into his hands and smeared it across his chest, over the silver dragon rings on each breast. His eyes were fixed on hers and her breath froze as his eyes began to change, turning olive-yellow. His skin was changing to gray as she stepped forward and touched his chest, placing her hands over the rings. They were slippery from the blood and he hissed.

“Like thisss, princesss?”

Her eyes were fixed on his lips, which were thin and dark. “Yes.”

His tongue flicked the air, and he froze, his eyes narrowing. “You don’t want thisss.”

“I do.”

“You’re conflicted and confused. I can taste your regret.”

“My only regret is that we cannot escape this place and be free of everything.”

“No, it’sss much more than that. Don’t lie to me, princessss.”

He stepped back, and her chest tightened. Get away, she wanted to scream. She met his gaze, and lifting her hand to her blouse, slowly began to unfasten the buttons. His eyes slipped to her chest, widening as she opened the blouse and bared herself to him. His gaze flew back to hers. “What are you doing?”

“Taste my blood, mighty warrior,” she said.

He hesitated, his forked tongue tasting the air, and then his hands were on her hips, lifting her up against the wall. He ran his tongue over her breast, then sealed his lips over her. Her hands flew to his head, clinging to him as she wrapped her legs around his waist. His mouth lifted and he turned, taking her with him, almost flinging her to the bed as he crawled over her and applied attention to her other breast. She lifted herself up to him, then gasped when his fangs slid into her tender flesh. A tremor wracked her and she gripped him tightly as he sucked, drawing her blood into his mouth. He groaned, then slipped back to her other breast and bit her again. This time she cried out, and his grip on her tightened. He pulled out his fangs and his tongue slipped over her breast, then up her neck and along her jawline to her mouth, and he kissed her deeply once more as she wrapped her legs around him. He ran his hand over her thigh, then down her leg, where it paused. He raised his head and looked at her, pulling out the thin blade given to her by the Ancient.

“What’s this, princess?” His features were already returning to normal, his eyes black.

“It’s a knife, Kalen.”

“I’m not Kalen. He no longer exists, remember. And why do you have a knife in your boot?”

“Protection?” It came out as a question, and he raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not one I gave you. And why do you need protection here?” He raised himself to look at her. “Why are you here, princess?”

“You know why. I want you.”

He cocked his head. “I believe you. But … there’s something else. You still want to kill me.”

“No,” she whispered. “I don’t.”

“Then why did you come here armed, princess?”

She looked away as tears spilled down her cheeks. “I don’t want to kill you.”

As he stared down at the blade, brows furrowed, she sneaked a glance at him, then drew in a ragged breath as the tattoos around his torso glimmered faintly. His eyes flew to hers. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” she cried, grabbing the blade from his hand. She raised it as he launched at her, and they both tumbled to the floor. He landed beneath her and she raised the dagger into the air, but his hand shot out and caught hers, holding it away. He might have lost his warrior strength, but he still had the strength of a strong man. She stared at him, their gazes clashing.

“I misjudged how much you hate me,” he said.

“I don’t hate you.”

“Then why do you want to kill me? You have no hope of escaping, even with me gone.”

She looked away, and her hand went slack. He dropped his and began to raise himself on his elbows, but she quickly raised the blade and without hesitation, skewered it into his chest.

His eyes widened as he looked down at the handle protruding from his skin. With a groan, he lay back on the floor as she pushed herself off him, the tears streaming down her cheeks. He lay there for a moment, his eyes open, then turned to look at her. His eyes were flinty, his jaw set; he might be dying, but she could feel his rage fill the room.

“I have told you before, princess, you cannot escape me,” he rasped. A trickle of blood escaped the corner of his mouth, and he lifted his chest from the floor as he heaved a breath. His body slumped, and she saw the light go from his eyes as a sob tore from her throat. She crawled over to him and ran her hand over his face, wiping away the trickle of blood and closing his eyes. The dragon tattoo gleamed brightly for a moment, then dimmed and turned dull.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I had no choice. It was your life or Pip’s, and I had to choose his.” She brought her lips to his and kissed him, then scooched back to the wall and buried her face in her hands.

The sound of footsteps outside the door had her pushing herself up against the wall to her feet, and quickly fastening the buttons of the blouse and straightening the ribbon in her hair. She could not bear to look at the Drameara for another moment. She turned and stumbled towards the door, but as she reached it, she glanced back once more. The dagger was still buried in his chest, and with a sob, she stumbled forward and yanked it out. She stared at it for a moment, not knowing what she should do with the weapon, but when the footsteps stopped outside the room, she shoved the dagger back into her boot as the door opened. The man who had brought her to the room stepped inside, his eyes going to the dead Drameara. He grabbed her by the hand and dragged her from the room.

“Take me to the Ancient,” she said.

“The Ancient does not want to see you.”

“I have done as she said, and now she must set my brother free.”

“What do you mean? You have killed one of her finest Warriors.” He began marching her down the tunnel.

“Where are you taking me?”

“You want to see your brother? You can join him in his cell.”

“But she gave me her word –”

“That she would not kill him. But you are a murderer, and you’ll both be punished for your deeds.”

“Let me go,” she cried, struggling to free herself from his grasp, but his grip was too strong, and he dragged her along the tunnel without pausing. He turned a corner and came to a stop outside a wooden door. The man quickly unlocked a sliding bolt and pushed her inside, slamming the door closed behind her and sliding the lock into place as she stumbled to the ground.

“Lark!” Pip fell to the ground beside her, studying her face. “Are you alright?”

“Pip, what are we to do?” A wave of despair washed over her. “I’ve just killed the one person who might have actually helped us!”

“Lark, it’s not –”

“Oh, Pip, it was terrible! The way he looked at me!” She pulled her legs to her chest and buried her face in her knees as the tears streamed down her face. Pip sat down beside her and awkwardly put his arm around her shoulder. “And now she’s thrown me in this prison, and the guard says that we are both to stay here, and she’ll probably make us drink her blood, because that’s what she was going to do, and then we’ll be bound to her forever, always needing her blood, and she’ll try and force us to fight our own people, and –”

“Lark, stop!”

She drew in a shuddering breath and raised her eyes to meet his. “Pip, you don’t understand –”

“No, Lark, you don’t understand! I’ve been in here for days already! Do you really think I haven’t worked out a way to escape?”

She frowned. “Escape?”

“I never for one moment believed that she’d just let us walk out of here.”

She stared at him. “You know how we can get out?”

“Well, out of this cell, at any rate.”

“Oh, Pip.” The tears started flowing once more as he looked at her in consternation.

“Why are you crying now?”

She gave a shaky laugh. “No good reason. Now tell me, how are we going to get out of here?”

He smiled. “Simple, really. We’re going to walk out the door.”

She frowned. “How?”

“By sliding open the bolt, silly.” She lifted an eyebrow, and he grinned. “Look, the door is made of planks that have been fitted together, see?” She turned to study the door. “The planks are old and don’t fit together so well anymore, which means that there are a few gaps. While I was waiting for you to show up, I made this!” He walked to the wall and picked up a length of thin strips of wood, held together with string. “We feed it through the hole, into the bolt, and slide it open!”

She looked at it dubiously. “And does it work?”

“Well, I haven’t tried it yet, but I am absolutely convinced that it will.”

She sighed. “Well, at least we can give it a try.”

“Try?” he scoffed. “Have a little faith, Lark.”