Avery (Random Romance)

  Thorne

  I’d been angry with Ambrose once, for something I myself had been guilty of. When he was eighteen years old, I’d caught him in his father’s crypt where he was never supposed to set foot, and I’d yelled at him, heartsore with my own guilt. I desperately needed for him to get over this pain. Why can’t you let it go? You’ve let him ruin your life!

  Ambrose hadn’t said anything at all in response, and his silence had driven me to distraction. My hands had trembled with an aimless frustration, an inability to watch my brother break like this. I knew he spent his nights pacing his bedchamber, unable to sleep. I knew he couldn’t bear not knowing, couldn’t bear the disbelief of it all. Yet still I did not tell him the truth. Still I kept it secret, telling myself over and over that I had to obey my queen’s orders, because without order the savagery of our blood would leave the Pirenti nation descending into chaos.

  I told myself, over and over, that she must have had a good reason to do it, to have Rourke of Araan killed by his son’s hand, but I could never find one.

  And slowly the real truth started to dawn on me. The real reason I didn’t tell my brother what had happened that day, was because of what they called us. In the streets, in the towns, in every corner of Pirenti, they referred to us as the father killers. And some sick part of me wanted it to be true, wanted Ambrose to be just as brutal as me, just as guilty of patricide. I didn’t want to be alone with my sins. If we shared one, the greatest sin of all, he would never be able to leave me.

  Now, it seemed very likely that I had lost him for good, which hurt, because I’d always loved him best of all.

  Chapter 22

  Roselyn

  I sat by the window in our bedchamber all afternoon. I didn’t make any wishes, and I didn’t count. In my fear I had gone beyond those things. I was adrift, with nothing to hold onto except the thought of Thorne and Ava and Ambrose. What was startling, was that for some reason I felt alive – truly, wonderfully alive. I was part of something – the adventure I’d only ever wished for. The kind of life where I mattered, where people fought for me, where I might, at last, have a chance to fight for them too.

  She sent only two guards to collect me. Really, they would have needed only one. The men’s expressions were angry and excited all at once as they took hold of me roughly. I was marched through the fortress, past all the staring eyes, and out into the courtyard. It was packed full of people – they crowded in around the training yard where we held the tournament, lined the walls, and hung out of all fourteen balconies that rose up high into the sky. People screamed in sick anticipation as I was led onto the wooden stage which had been erected earlier this morning, just for me. A guillotine sat before me glistening in the sunshine – also waiting for me, for my neck.

  On the other side of the courtyard, the Queen sat in her throne on its raised plinth, eyes trained on me. She’d wanted this for a very long time. Her six bodyguards flanked her and I couldn’t help the nervous dread that wormed its way into my stomach at the sight of them. How could Thorne and Ambrose possibly hope to beat them? How could they ever hope to beat Vincent?

  Searching around, I spotted them sitting together in the stands a short distance from their ma. There was only a small section of seats, and this was reserved for the highest ranking officers in the army.

  Thorne’s blue eyes held mine and I felt the calm of his touch slide inside me – in a fight you wanted to be on Thorne’s side. Ambrose had his arms folded, and his face held the hard determination of someone who knew exactly what he was doing.

  The herald beside the throne blew a short burst on his trumpet. ‘For crimes of treachery against the throne of Pirenti, Roselyn of Batth, wife of the first Prince of Pirenti, is to be punished with execution.’

  Applause erupted. I don’t know if it was just my imagination, but it sounded very bedraggled to me. I looked around at the faces closest and it seemed to me then that they were tired. All day they’d watched people kill each other – listened to screams of pain, seen the spill of blood and the tearing of flesh – and now they were faced with a simple-minded, idiot girl as she was slaughtered for being nothing more than what she’d been born. They were tired. Somewhere along the way we’d become a weary, hopeless country.

  My eyes were drawn to where Vincent stood next to the Queen. As his gaze took hold of mine, I felt his particular talent seep inside me, and all the fear I’d been swallowing swelled to consume me. Vincent’s brand of magic was a dark, poisonous thing. He could reach inside and touch the essence of a person’s fear, and then use that fear to control their will. It was coercion of the deepest, darkest kind – something no man or woman could fight against, for to fear was a human quality no one escaped.

  Violent sobs of unnatural terror racked me. I had no control – I was suffocating in a nameless fear, a waking nightmare. Against all sense I started to move, slack-jawed and slow, to the guillotine. Vincent smiled as I obeyed his twisted control. In a trance, I bent my knees and rested my head in the groove. It was only a matter of time now, and they would pull the lever. I wondered what it felt like to have your head severed from your body. I wondered how long it would take for me to die. One second, two seconds, three seconds, four? Five, six, seven, eight. Nine, ten, eleven …

  With a flick of my eyes – just about the only movement I was capable of – I searched the sky, only to find it empty. That’s when I knew that something was wrong.

  Thorne

  She was a delicate rose standing in the cold afternoon light, her hair very red, her skin a perfect, pale white. Even from here I could see the darkness in her eyes, and the way she held her face calm with nothing more than willpower. A biting wind blew her hair out behind her making her look like a wild thing – a forest creature, something not entirely human. Graceful and more dignified than the monster who reigned, my wife was more of a queen than any who had come before.

  Then I saw Vincent take hold of Rose with his vile black magic, and her moment of grace ended – she became a terrified child, sobbing and weak and vulnerable for all to see. I very nearly roared aloud, fury charging through my chest like a herd of wild horses. It was a palpable thing, the power that flowed from Vincent’s limbs, and I had to concede that maybe Ava was right – it seemed a lot like the kind of power that came from a warder. Why, then, was I unable to withstand it like I could a warder’s soul magic?

  ‘Ready?’ I muttered to Ambrose. He hadn’t spoken a word to me since the tomb.

  ‘Not yet,’ he grunted coldly.

  ‘She’s walking to the guillotine!’ I hissed.

  He glanced at me, saw the panic I tried to hide, and in a miracle of forgiveness only Ambrose was capable of, he put a hand on my arm to steady me. His eyes moved back towards the Queen and stayed there, watching. They were hawk eyes, sharp as the Holy Sword. So many times I’d caught him watching our mother like this and I’d been suspicious. So many times I’d wondered what in the world he was thinking, his gaze penetrating like nothing else could be. Now I thanked the Gods he’d watched her so closely – it was going to save our lives. Ambrose had his father’s understanding of subtleties, his father’s perceptivity. I had none of it, my own father having been a violent brute.

  ‘I take Vincent,’ my little brother said flatly.

  I said, ‘Yes,’ but what I meant was if I need to step in, I will. My brother’s revenge was not so important that I would let him dig his own grave, and Vincent was a man I had been preparing to fight since the day I first learnt of his sick talent. I controlled the fear of my people, and only me. He would die today, and an old balance would be restored to Pirenti.

  One more moment and then Ambrose gave a nod. ‘Now.’

  With a deep sense of happiness, I drew my battleaxe.

  My brother and I split up and moved to either side of Ma’s stage. The six bodyguards would divide in order to face the two of us. Vincent was distracted dealing with Rose, so it would be three and two. I had to make sure the group of thre
e came after me.

  The bodyguard closest was Lyle, which was unfortunate. His incredible hearing alerted him to my approach, and he turned towards me before I could attack. I swung my axe straight at his head. He ducked out of the way, but I felt my blade slice through his ear. A grunt left his mouth, but nothing more – he was too focused to give in to the pain. The smell of his blood reached my nose and I felt a tremor inside me, knowing the beast had woken – all I had to do was direct him. A far easier intention than it was an action.

  Blayne spun to face me, too. There was no one alive who could beat this man in an arm wrestle – he had impossible, unnatural strength – so I had to work this a particular way.

  I noticed angrily that the other three guards had turned to face Ambrose. I had to hurry up and deal with my two so I could go and help him. ‘Lyle,’ I warned, my voice a snarl, ‘don’t try to fight me – you won’t win.’

  ‘Probably not,’ he agreed, resigned as he saw the berserker in me, ‘but you always taught us to be brave, sire.’ He came at me, ducking under my axe and stabbing towards my kidneys. I spun out of the way of his blow, avoiding Blayne’s mighty fist, attacking from the other side. I threw a left-handed punch into the big man’s ribs, since I didn’t have my axe ready in time. I heard at least one of them break.

  Blayne staggered sideways and I used his momentum to trip him to the ground. I could have finished it there by slashing his throat, but Lyle was swinging wildly at me, so I blocked the blows and angled him towards where his companion lay. Blayne was breathing laboriously – his broken rib must have punctured a lung. Lyle went to step sideways, but realised he’d trip over Blayne if he moved at all, and in his moment of distraction I swung my battleaxe and cut his head off.

  Blayne grabbed hold of my ankle and pulled me to the ground, then rolled on top of me – exactly what I shouldn’t have let happen. His hands went around my throat and I instantly felt dizzy – one more second and he would crush my windpipe entirely. My axe was still in my hand, so I wrenched it up and cracked him on the head with the blunt edge. He blinked and loosened his hold enough for me to focus. I jabbed the handle of the axe at his face three times, quickly, breaking his cheekbone and eye socket with loud crunches. As his eyes lost focus, I hauled him off me, his body kicking up a pile of dust where he landed. The big man tried to get to his feet, but I stepped forward and slashed his throat.

  Blayne and Lyle both lay dead on the ground beneath me. Shame hit me at how easy it had been – my best men, and neither of them could give me a proper fight. I spat on them and snarled, ‘Pathetic.’

  My hands were shaking with pent-up battle fury. I wanted more blood, but I looked over and saw that my wife was still in the guillotine, waiting to be killed. Ava should have flown in to save her by now, but the girl was nowhere in sight. Fucking Kayans were good for nothing. I wanted to help my brother – that was the plan – but there was no way, in any lifetime, that I was going to endure the offence of leaving my wife publicly prepared for death like that. Nobody – nobody – touched Roselyn but me. The whole of Pirenti knew that; by the end of the day they would have the fact carved into their bones. And the terror she was feeling? Heads would roll for it – I’d slaughter the whole damn world to make her safe.

  I turned towards Vincent, my lips curling into a smile. At long last I had an excuse.

  Ambrose

  I’d trained with all three of these men for most of my life. They were beatable on their own, but when they stood together like this … I had my doubts. Mallory had frightening, unnatural speed – you could hardly see him when he moved. Igor was the best swordsman in the country – his weapon was like an extension of his arm, slashing so fast and accurately that it was almost unavoidable. And Tren was the boxer no one had ever been able to beat.

  I had always hated the six bodyguards for being so blindly loyal to the Queen. It made no sense, as their sole purpose in life was to protect her, but something about their devotion had always felt deeply wrong to me. It occurred to me that perhaps their devotion was not their own, but had been coerced into them. My ma’s long fingers had no end to their reach, not when she had Vincent’s power at her side.

  The rest of the army would never fight their princes – they belonged to Thorne and I – and they watched from the walls of the courtyard, ready to assist me if, and only if, I called for help. That was the thing about honour – you never helped a stronger fighter unless he asked for it. I was not going to ask for it – not today. Not if it meant more lives were lost than necessary.

  The three bodyguards attacked from different sides and I began to move, faster than I’d ever moved before. Both my swords were out, whirling sharply, blocking and slashing with hard-edged determination. There was one benefit to having them come from either side – I might be able to use them against each other. Igor came quickly, swinging his sword in a huge arc that nearly took my damn head off. Tren was on my other side, throwing jabs into my side. I allowed him to hit me – once, twice – and then, with my right foot, I flicked the dirt under my boot up into Igor’s eyes as he attacked again. I dropped to the ground and he baulked, unable to see that his sword was aimed straight for Tren’s head. He sliced into his friend, killing him instantly. I used that moment to kick Igor’s feet out from under him and watch him fall straight onto my blade. Sometimes it wasn’t such an advantage to fight with other men beside you, especially when they were just as likely to take the lead – things got confusing.

  I turned and looked at Mallory, shooting him a grin. ‘All alone now, kid. You scared yet?’

  He didn’t respond, nor did he give any sign that he was scared. Instead he started to sprint around me in circles, kicking up the dust beneath his feet, creating a mighty cloud through which it was impossible for me to see him. All he had to do now was strike me while I was blind. I closed my eyes, bending my knees and readying my swords as I listened. He was fast, but he was making a lot of noise – his footfalls might as well have been targets. His circle grew smaller, closing in around me. He whizzed past my right ear over and over, and I knew I only had one tiny chance to get him.

  Feeling the rhythm of his speed, I aimed slightly ahead of him, waited until he reached my right side once more, and then struck. I leapt and spun at the same time, bringing my left sword down into his shoulder, and then my right straight into his neck. It didn’t quite sever his head, but it did the job. The incredible momentum that I’d intercepted jarred my arms badly, but as I wrenched my two swords free Mallory fell to the ground, still at last.

  Looking down at the three men I’d just killed, it seemed a tremendous waste. Their talents had been unheard of, yet here they were, lives seeping harmlessly onto the ground. Then again, I didn’t have a special skill, and I’d just killed all three of them. Maybe they weren’t so incredible after all. I was sure that Thorne would agree with me that our first job in power would be to train better men.

  As the dust settled I realised Ava was still not here, and Thorne had turned to face Vincent on his own. Desperation struck – Vincent was mine. Thorne had promised. The snake had clearly turned his attention from Roselyn and was now focused wholly on Thorne. Already my brother looked close to falling. He gripped his axe in two hands, limbs trembling, face red with the exertion of denying Vincent control of his limbs.

  Fear was a funny thing. We never knew who Vincent would have a greater effect on – sometimes the strongest men crumbled hardest at his feet. It didn’t matter how brave you were – the more fear you had in your heart, no matter how deeply it was buried, the easier it was for Vincent to manipulate you.

  And Thorne? Thorne was a god among men, stronger and cleverer and more ruthless than anyone I’d ever heard of. But in that heart of his was the terror of a boy who didn’t have a clue how to fight his dark half. In that heart was the fear of the beast he knew he would one day become. His knees buckled under Vincent’s power and I knew I only had seconds before my brother was dead.

  I twirled my swor
ds and approached Vincent from behind. He’d sense me – my own fear for Thorne would be like a beacon right now – but he couldn’t split his power between two people. I’d never been able to withstand his attacks as I could a warder’s – there was something heavier about his power, something more twisted than the purity of a warder’s soul magic. There wasn’t much to do except try at this point, though.

  ‘Is that the best you can do?’ Thorne managed to gasp. Vincent grinned.

  I swung my swords at his back, but he sidestepped and turned his power on me. I felt my limbs freeze and my stomach turn to jelly. I tried to focus on emptying my mind, reaching for the detachment I knew was necessary, but all I could feel was the terror – terror like iron, cold, rusting iron sheathing itself in my heart. Somewhere inside me he found words, and I had no idea from where they’d come: You are my talisman repeating loudly in my ears, crashing like waves against rocks. I didn’t understand, and my heart felt squeezed to within an inch of my life.

  I saw Eloise grab Roselyn by the hair and wrench her back into the guillotine, locking her in place. Thorne, now free of Vincent’s power, looked from his wife to me and back again.

  ‘Go!’ I told him. ‘I’ve got this!’

  Thorne hesitated only a moment longer, then leapt off the plinth and charged towards his wife.

  ‘All alone now, kid,’ Vincent whispered. ‘Scared yet?’

  My own words from a few moments before. Something had died inside this man, twisting him into a parody of a person. Even Ava, when first I’d met her and she’d been at her most hollow, even then she had never been this … absent.

  ‘Clever, Vin,’ I told him, forcing a smile to my face. ‘Very clever. But you’ve gotta do a lot worse to scare a Pirenti prince.’

  Cold sliced inside me and I fell to my knees before him. He took control of me, and as if in a dream, I picked up my sword from the ground and moved it to rest over my heart.