Page 4 of The Edge of Darkness

Gavrin, the High Lord of Calledan, was not only an exceptionally powerful fae but also loyal, trustworthy, and righteous. Karios had entrusted him, after all, to safeguard the Talisman of Lyceius—to keep it hidden deep within the mountains.

The god-king looked at the sleeping fae who lay next to Gavrin. Lyra, was her name. She was lovely, with long dark hair—the color of glittering night—and porcelain skin that glowed white under the moonlight that beamed through the towering window. Her chest swelled softly as she breathed, and her eyelids fluttered, sheltering her in a dream, her swollen belly ripe with a youngling inside.

He’d chosen Lyra for this task because of her ability to glamour on a scale that was unprecedented. If whatever power this amulet contained needed concealing, she could mask it with her expert skill, and no one would be the wiser.

Karios reached out a hand and sent both fae into an even deeper sleep—one that neither would wake from until he was finished. Then, he placed the amulet upon Lyra’s chest and imbued its power to her. A shadow bled from all sides of the token, like ink on water-soaked parchment. He snatched it back before it could leak out any more of its power, releasing only a fraction of what he felt the amulet contained. The shadow remained on her skin for a moment, then seeped into it, disappearing completely.

The god-king stared down at the female as she continued to sleep. She didn’t stir as he removed his hand. She didn’t look any different at all.

He tilted his head, then his eyes snagged on movement further down her body. The youngling moved inside her, rubbing a tiny knuckle—or heel, or elbow—along the wall of the womb. Lyra’s brows pinched in her sleep, and she shifted onto her side, placing a hand on the edge of her belly, as if to settle the babe within.

Just as Karios stepped away to leave the High Lord and his mate to their slumber, he picked up on the faint heartbeat from the young one within Lyra.

It stuttered . . .

Then, it raged.

PART ONE

THE EDGE OF DARKNESS

“Calm your storm.” Roirdan’s words were a growl as he assessed my shaking hands.

I slowly blinked and looked over at him.

How can I be calm at a time like this?

“I’m trying my best,” I said through clenched teeth.

My power was indeed a raging storm, swirling in a torrent beneath my skin, licking its way to the surface with each breath I took.

It had been four days. Four days since Niall had been stolen away from me with Old Magic at the hands of that snake, Ramil. Four days of absolute hell being separated from my mate.

My mind was hollow without his shadows swirling in on a phantom wind to rally my light. If I’d had it my way, I would’ve acted to get him back the day after—hours after. Immediately, if I could have. But Aremis, being the voice of reason, had reminded me that we needed a plan.

Ever since Aremis and I escaped the clutches of death and imprisonment, I’d gone over everything in my head repeatedly. What went wrong? How did we not see it coming? And most importantly, what could be done about it?

During our first night back, the Trium and I spent hours formulating plans to return to Benmoor and retrieve Niall, but every idea ended in blood-boiling frustration, because our biggest obstacle was getting back into the Desert Court in the first place. We couldn’t just show up at the gate and wait to be let in. That would alert Ramil and give him ample time to do his worst to Niall, if he hadn’t already. And that was if he decided to let us back into his territory at all.

We knew we had to enter unseen and unannounced.

That night, I’d lain in bed while my power thrashed in my veins, like it was telling me it had all the answers, and I wasn’t listening. I spent hours wracking my brain for every possible idea of how to get past Benmoor’s gate until I was crying into my pillow. Then, I remembered something Maeson had said back in Elandrew. Niall had drawn an eerily similar conclusion when he first witnessed my ability to command objects at my will. Both of them had mentioned wards . . . That there was a chance I could break them . . . command them.

When the idea made my power settle into a pulsing rhythm, I knew that I’d figured out what it had been trying to tell me.

My power didn’t just have the answer, it was the answer—the key to getting Niall back.

That same night, I found Aremis in his chamber, hunched over his desk, deep in his perilous thoughts amidst the glow of a dozen barely burning candles. His eyes sparked with hope at my revelation, and sleep was entirely forgotten. He immediately stood from the table and pushed his physical shield out around him, telling me to bring it down. Whether it was desperation, sleep deprivation, or both, I flung my power toward it and commanded his shield to fall. I didn’t see it happen, but I felt it. And then, a victorious smile spread across his face as he said the words, “Ward breaker.”

We’d spent the rest of that night investigating—using simple objects, like a book that was warded to be permanently closed. When I successfully opened it, Aremis concluded, with unwavering certainty, what Niall and Maeson had only guessed at.

Up until then, I had practiced bending things to my will by just imagining the outcome. I’d been successful most of the time, but breaking wards was a different game, one that required a more tactical approach if it was to be done on the scale we needed. A warded book was simple to break. A shield proved easy as well. But bringing down a territorial ward that was put in place to safeguard an entire court? That would take more power than I had ever used before.

Our plan, in theory, was that I would wipe away Benmoor’s territorial wards—temporarily. Long enough for the five of us to port to the entry gate and slip past. From there, we would get Niall, and get out.

With Aremis and Remic’s guidance, I’d made my first practice attempts at Calledan’s eastern gate—the one bordering Vahrenhall, a territory we trusted. We didn’t know for certain if I had the ability to manipulate a single section of wards, or if it would affect the entirety of them all at once. So Roirdan had been stationed at the northern gate, and Maeson at the one to the west, to monitor, in case those sections simultaneously fell as I practiced.

Aremis instructed me to envision the well of power within me and draw from it to fuel my attempts. I’d only needed to tap into it just as I’d done before.