THE CAPTAIN STARED up at the Thracken. Silence stretched out between them, before he finally replied. “I am Elias, Prince of Anthor. I captain the king’s army.”
Asher’s breathing stilled.
Finally, too late, he made the connection he’d been struggling with ever since first setting eyes on the Captain of Anthor in Thornmere; the missing piece he’d been trying to place. He’d met this man’s younger brother, Saul, the year before—the man who had first betrayed and then aided the bearer of The King Breaker, Lilia. The last time Asher had seen Saul of Anthor he’d been a corpse upon a funeral pyre, flames devouring his flesh.
Asher watched the captain, seeing him with fresh eyes. Did Elias know of his brother’s fate? He searched the man’s face for any sign of fear. He saw none. If Elias was scared he was hiding it well.
“A prize indeed.” Darg’s voice was flat, lifeless. “I will hear of your father’s plans.”
The captain stepped forward and spat on the ground. “You’ll get nothing from me and my men. Kill us now and be done with it.”
The horrified look on his men’s faces at this was almost comical. However, the captain wasn’t paying attention to them. Instead, he glared at the Thracken lord, angry and defiant.
A pause followed, before Darg raised a long, bell-like sleeve and stretched it toward the captain. “I am waiting.”
The Captain of Anthor’s mouth flattened into a stubborn line.
Darg drifted closer to the edge of the platform. “So arrogant. You might think that your kind has beaten us—but you’re wrong.” A cold, threatening silence followed before the Thracken continued. “For years we’ve been gathering our strength. The Battle of the Shadefells set us back, but there are still many shadow creatures dwelling in dark places in The Four Kingdoms. One by one, they have traveled to the Dim Hold. Here, they find purpose.”
A muscle bunched in the captain’s jaw. “And what’s that?”
“We will have vengeance upon your kind.” The Thracken’s hood drew back, like a snake readying itself to strike. “When we are strong enough, we shall leave this forest and travel under the cloak of darkness. We will find the rulers of the land and bring them down—one by one. Your father will be the first to fall.”
Elias of Anthor’s mouth twisted. “Good luck with that.”
A hush followed before Darg spoke once more. “Tell me what Reoul plans. He has taken Thûn. Will he attack the other kingdoms?”
The captain didn’t reply.
“You defy me?” The shiver in Darg’s voice made the entire chamber grow still—yet the Captain of Anthor didn’t seem to care.
Elias stared back at him. “I might as well … you’re going to kill me anyway.”
“How much is your life worth, prince?”
“Nothing.”
“To you perhaps, but to your father? What would he give to have you back?”
The Captain of Anthor smiled then, yet it was not a warm expression. “You’ve never met my father.”
“A ruthless man then. Thank you, captain. That’s valuable to know. Now, I’ll ask you one last time … what are your father’s plans?”
Only silence answered him.
A pause drew out, before the Captain of Anthor’s face paled. His arms started to tremble. He was fighting something—a force that sought to gain control of him.
For the first time Asher saw fear flicker in Elias’s dark eyes. And yet he still fought the Thracken, his body growing taut. Asher had heard of this dark art, the ability to reach inside someone’s mind and force them to your will. Those of the Light could do it; but all of his order were forbidden from doing so. Enchanters of the Light could only enter the body of others to heal them, not to manipulate or harm. They could not break that fragile bond of trust.
Darg had no such concern. The Thracken had gone still, and Asher smelt a sweet, pungent odor, like the air after a heavy thunderstorm—the scent of enchantment—and felt the power of it prickle his skin.
Elias let out a roar as his hands lifted and grasped around his own throat.
Around him, the shadow creatures stirred. The Nightgenga nearest watched the captain with rheumy eyes, its large, white hands twitching at its sides, its flat face keen. Next to it, Dusk Imps squealed, raking their claws on the stone seat, as if it took all their will not to launch themselves at the Captain of Anthor.
One of the men of Anthor—the sharp-featured, bearded soldier—shouted a curse and launched himself at Elias. The other soldiers followed. Yet the shadow creatures flanking the men merely grabbed them, hauling them back. They would not come to their captain’s aid.
Elias fell to his knees. His hands had clamped around his neck; he was literally squeezing the life out of himself.
Mira muttered something under her breath, while next to her Ninia inhaled sharply. Asher couldn’t look away from Elias. The man was strong; he fought the Thracken’s pull with bared teeth. Only, his hands would no longer obey him. The man’s face grew dark as the lack of air started to affect him. Moments more and the captain would die.
Elias suddenly let go of his neck and pitched forward, choking and gasping for breath.
“That was a taste,” the Thracken said, its voice rising over the excited chatter of shadow creatures, all craning forward to watch the unfolding spectacle. “I can make you do much worse to yourself, prince. Next I shall make you gouge out each eye.”
Asher watched Elias look up, still gasping for breath, defiance twisting his face. “Do it then.”
“Tell him what he wants to know,” Mira choked out. “Spare us at least.”
Elias heaved in a breath, his gaze swiveling to her. “What’s wrong?” he croaked. “No stomach for torture?”
“I can tell you what the King of Anthor plans,” Ninia blurted. She had turned to face the Thracken. “I’m Ninia, Princess of Thûn.”
Darg’s attention shifted from Elias to Ninia, while around them the hall quietened. “What do you know, girl?”
“He plans to bring down both Rithmar and Farras,” she replied, a quaver in her voice. “Reoul invaded Thûn, murdered my family, and sent his son after me to make sure there would never be a claim to the throne. He now mounts a campaign against Rithmar, and after that he will turn his attention to the south.” She broke off here and heaved in a deep breath. “Once he has conquered The Four Kingdoms of Serran, he will make himself emperor.”
Darg watched her, the captain momentarily forgotten. “How did you come by this information?”
Asher glanced over at Elias and saw he was staring at Ninia, lips parted.
“I’m royalty,” she replied without a trace of arrogance. “I grew up surrounded by politics … and I paid attention to the things my father and his advisers discussed. Anthor has been mounting this campaign for years. My father’s spies in the south kept him updated.”
“So when will Reoul attack Rithmar?”
A beat of hesitation followed before Ninia replied. “Late spring at the latest.”
Asher watched Elias’s face as the princess spoke. Although the prince contained his reaction well, Asher saw shock flare in his eyes.
How does she know this? Asher swiveled his attention back to Ninia. No enchanter of either the Light or the Dark had ever been able to read minds.
Darg, Lord of the Thracken, watched Ninia. Asher had the unnerving sense that the plans of Reoul of Anthor were no longer of interest. This young woman had drawn its attention.
“A princess and an enchanter.” The cold voice echoed in the now silent hall. “The servants of the shadows saw what you did to those men. Such power for one so young.” The empty cowl shifted to Asher, and he felt something heavy grip him by the shoulders, pinning him to the spot. “She is even stronger than you, Asher of the Light.”
Asher sucked in a breath. “How—”
“How do I know your name? We all know it—Asher of the Light is a cursed name here. I was there that night beneath the Shadefells. I saw you bend torchlight to your will and strike us down. But now you walk into our domain, making an offering of yourself.” Darg paused here, a growl rising from the surrounding benches. “For years enchanters have hunted us, pushed our kind back into the margins. Your death won’t just be an execution; it will be retribution. You should have chosen another path west.”
Asher swallowed. He had not realized shadow creatures had the wit to harbor grudges. Until today he’d never imagined them capable of organizing themselves, that there was a pecking order among them, or that they had a base or a purpose beyond serving the Shadow King. He’d been ignorant of much it seemed.
The Thracken’s gaze swept from Asher to where Ninia and Mira stood beside him. “I was going to execute the prince of Anthor and his men first … but I’ve changed my mind.”
Asher’s pulse accelerated. Around him the gathered shadow creatures roared. They were hungry for blood; he could almost taste their eagerness.
“Bring them up here,” Darg commanded, moving back from the edge of the dais.