Page 25 of Let Slip the Dogs of War

Grant grabs Dante’s arm. His magic is far less powerful in comparison, but he is fast to react, drawing power up between her and the three of us.

Her magic soothes and gentles. She smiles at Grant. “Apologies. I did not intend to frighten you, vampire. Either of you.”

Dante gives her a flat look. “Just Lark?”

My back stiffens, but she takes no offence to that. Her smile merely widens, her lack of an answer a response in and of itself.

“Do you wish they had taken you instead of her?” she asks after a moment. Dante sucks in a breath, and next to him, Grant goes entirely still. We both know the answer, of course. Not that I want to cheapen the gesture, but I doubt there is a member of their pack who would not offer themselves up in her stead.

“Of course,” Dante says.

“Perhaps if your soulbond had told you the truth, they would have.”

I bite back a growl.

Dante shakes his head. “It doesn’t work like that,” he says, and there is a surprising sharpness to his voice. “It’s not Lark’s fault they took her. They shouldn’t have done it.”

I stare at him. I did not expect him to blame me, not exactly, but I would not be surprised if he did. They would not have taken her if I had not crossed over.

“They should not,” the witch says with a nod. She sits back in her chair again, and the flames in the fireplace leap a little higher. “I like the two of you. I suppose I am feeling generous today.”

Grant perks up. “You are?”

She chuckles. “I have even more to teach you,” she says, but the smile falls from her face when she looks at me. “Still, you are asking for a lot.”

“Please,” Dante murmurs. He leans forwards, hands clasped as he rests his elbows on his knees. “We’ve got no other way to get her back. We can’t do it without his power.”

“You’d be surprised,” the witch murmurs. Her eyes never leave my face. “Do you remember what you promised?”

The hair on my arms stands on end. I feel as though my back is against a wall. The memory is strangely hazy, but I remember the words that fell from my lips, even if I cannot recall what made me want to say them. “Yes.”

“Tell them.”

When I glance at Dante, he is watching me with obvious confusion and only a little impatience. He does not understand why I would hesitate. What is there to lose?

“If I retrieve my magic, then I am to fulfil my fated destiny. If I do not…”

The witch stares at me, unblinking. She will give me no quarter.

“If I do not, then my soulbond and I will perish.”

Grant gets to his feet. I do not believe he even knows he has done it. Dante stares at me, astounded. “I don’t… Why would you agree to that?”

“I had no intention of returning.”

“O-okay. So, can’t we do that? I mean—” His face flushes and he swallows with a shake of his head. “I know you didn’t tell me about the bond and we, we could—”

“It is not that simple.” I ache for it to be that simple. If my fate was to cement the bond with my soulbond and live forever with him by my side, then there would not be an issue. It would also not prevent me, in my weakest moments, from returning to ask for my magic back.

“How is it not?”

“My fate is to sit on the throne. To remain here. Now that my parents and Ronan are all dead… That is why they took her.” Either way, I am condemned, though I have enough sense about me not to say that aloud.

Dante puts his face in his hands.

“I—You cannot remain if that happens,” I say to him softly. “You would be without protection. You cannot wear a crown. It would kill you.”

I say the last words to the witch, who stares impassively back at me. Grant sits silent, fairly contemplative.