Page 30 of The Edge of Darkness

Ramil sneered. “I’ll slit her throat, Auren, unless you come with me. Now!”

I knew Ramil would do it, judging from how little he cared about his other offspring. I opened my mouth to protest, but before I could, a deep voice boomed from the entrance.

“No!”

The voice sounded familiar, and I bristled. It was the same commanding voice I’d heard inside my head before. The one that had told me to get up and fight during the king’s tournament.

A figure stepped out from the shadow of the doorframe behind the creatures and guards. The light crested first on a pair of grand, white, feathered wings, then . . . chin-length golden hair.

I sucked in a breath.

I recognized his green eyes as they instantly found mine from across the room.

Silas.

Silas stood in the entry to the chamber with an air of undeniable authority. His eyes flickered to a fiery red, as did the markings that curved around his temples. The white wings that towered behind him were just like . . .

I whipped my head toward Remic, who was staring Silas down from atop the altar, clearly unsure of who this male was and why he was here. The look on his face told me he was incredibly bothered by it.

Shock washed over me as I met Silas’s gaze once more.

I hadn’t noticed it before—how ethereal he was. Otherworldly, like Remic.

Niall and Elspeth had been right after all. Silas was a Dionach. Which meant he had been glamoured the entire time we competed in the tournament.

Which also meant that he’d been there for a reason.

For me.

He had known.

“You will not touch what is mine,” he seethed at Ramil.

A clear fucking warning.

At his words, Niall growled low, wrapping his arm protectively around my waist and pulling me into him. Remic let out a snarl of his own, flicking his wings in irritation.

“Whoever you are,” Niall rumbled, “you’re seriously mistaken.” Even his shadows snaked around me like they were laying claim.

Silas tore his eyes from Ramil, and cocked his head as he took in Niall’s protectiveness. With one smooth maneuver of his wings, he bypassed the throng of enemies and swept into place in front of me. Glowing red eyes scanned over me from head to toe, assessing. His golden hair grazed his jawline as he regarded me. “Hello again, little one.”

It was Roirdan this time, who attempted to give Silas a piece of his mind. But Niall’s shadows pulsed, and no one stirred further.

“Silas,” I acknowledged, bleakly.

Niall’s voice barreled across my mind. This is Silas?!

Yes, I replied. He didn’t look like this the last time I saw him.

Silas turned, leaving me face to face with the long golden sword strapped between his feathered wings. His voice vibrated through the domed chamber as he stared the High Lord of Benmoor down. “Creature or fae, whoever touches her will die.” His hand flexed over the pommel of the sword encased in a gilded sheath at his hip, a twin to the one at his back.

The feline creatures pawed at the ground, anxiously awaiting their command to attack.

Ramil tightened the hold he had on his daughter, and began laughing. “As entertaining as this is, you’re all wasting my time with this nonsense.” He leaned in and spoke in Morah’s ear, loud enough for all to hear. “You, my dear, are going to watch your friends fall, one by one.”

He jerked his chin at his foot soldiers. “Bring her to me. Kill the rest.”

Silas unsheathed the sword at his hip with his right hand, while extracting the blade at his back with his left. The movement was quick, so fluid and graceful, yet full of malice.