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So, while Yarrow makes her husband watch, I take my dagger from my belt and I slit the bride’s throat. A long, clean line.
She coughs.
Blood spills onto her perfectly white dress.
I take her eyes next. She screams again, and the sound flutters down onto my skin like blossoms in spring.
I take a shuddering breath and let my wings fly wide.
The husband is screaming too. He tries to fight. He throws magic at me, but I bat it away with the flick of my wrist. And then I laugh because it is almost quaint that he thinks he might be able to overpower us.
Yarrow grins at me. “Now?” he asks.
“Now. The eyes.” I inhale slowly. “And then do what you wish.”
“Yes, my lord.” Yarrow’s voice is dark and dripping with blood lust. As he follows my command and leaves the new widower lying on the ground, scrambling to get away from him, I fly up above the trees and look down at the beauty I have created.
Shadows swirl and snake and choke.
Screams echo against the cliffs and drift up into the sky. Around me, my own shadows start to converge. They come to me and lift me up, and power vibrates in the air around me.
This is what we were destined to be.
We were destined to be the most powerful creatures in the kingdom.
And I cannot wait for Alana to see the world I am making for her.
As I think about her, something snags in the corner of my mind. A tingling sensation. Is she here? Is she watching me in her dreams?
I tip back my head and laugh, then swoop to the ground and pick up my dead, discarded bride. I lift her into my arms and walk to the edge of the cliff.
“Do you see, Alana? What we could be if we were together? What I am offering you?” I call into the ether, knowing, just knowing she can hear me.
“I am doing this for you! And you will be mine.”
EIGHTEEN
Eldrion
FOUR HUNDRED YEARS AGO
“Raylon...” I jog to catch up with my brother. My wings flutter, lifting me a few inches from the ground and allowing me to tread pockets of air as if they are stepping stones.
He looks back over his shoulder and grins at me. “Keep up, little brother.”
With a leap, he’s taking off. Soaring into the air, his wings almost blocking out the sun, shining, light fluttering around their edges.
For a moment, I’m transfixed. He is two hundred years older than me and has, for my entire existence, been the thing I both admire and abhor.
I want to be him, but I hate what he is.
Because he is everything I’m not. He has powers I can only dream of and – arrogant bastard that he is – he delights in reminding me about it at every opportunity.
When we were younger, it didn’t bother me as much; that’s what older brothers did. They mocked, and teased, and helped you grow a thick skin. But now, with two hundred years of sibling camaraderie to look back on, I have grown to hate him a little.
A hate laced with love that is gradually, day by day, turning to spite.
If my mother knew the things I dreamed of in the dark, she would be appalled. She would disown me. For Raylon has been her golden boy since the day he was born. Almost literally. His hair is such a deep, luxurious shade of blond that when it catches the sunlight, it looks like a veil of gold.
