Lady of Darkness (Lady of Darkness, #1)

by Melissa K. Roehrich

The most powerful of the Fae were blessed by the gods with more than just powerful magic. When a Fae’s powers fully manifested, some were granted a spirit animal. How the gods decided who received one, no one knew.

The spirit animals, being linked to the gods, were immune from the wards and spells of the lands. They were able to travel among the spiritual planes, which made them ideal for communicating back to the Courts. The scroll Amaré had brought to him held a scribbled response to a message he’d sent to the Fae lands.

No access to his elemental magic, his near limitless pit of flames and heat and embers.

He was certain Cassius would tell Scarlett. He still hadn’t figured out who exactly the commander was to Scarlett. He had trained her, yes, but she insisted he wasn’t a lover, and he didn’t exactly act like a brother either. He wasn’t entirely sure how Scarlett would react to the news of him being Fae.

He had been certain she’d been a daughter of Anahita, the goddess of water and ice, with the frost he had glimpsed and the freezing of those branches that first morning of training; but tonight he had pulled fire from her veins while smoke had seeped from her palms. No, not smoke. It had been thicker and darker than smoke.

Scarlett had frozen it in hoarfrost. Unlike hoarfrost the way mortals knew it, this was Fae hoarfrost. In the Fae Courts, he would have been able to melt it with his fire gifts, but here, nothing would melt it. Not only that, the branches were black, like they’d been burned first. No, not burned, because the blackness seemed to swirl within the ice, as if it were ashes in a wind.

She had accessed her magic that day without her ring on in the mortal kingdoms, which was supposed to be impossible.

A little over two years ago, orphans from the streets of the Black Syndicate had started going missing. They would disappear in the middle of the night. At first, no one noticed one or two missing street children, but then it started happening more often. The children started roaming in packs and word spread. There was no pattern to the disappearances. There was no type or reason.

Death’s Shadow and Death’s Maiden. Two sparks to set their world on fire.

He scented her a moment before he felt the tip of a dagger at his back. “Hello, General,” a female voice purred into his ear. “Lord Tyndell would be so curious to know what you’re doing on the roof across the street.” The voice was like silk and honey. It made every nerve in his body both tense and relax all at once.

Before him stood a Lady of Darkness and beside her was her twin.

Sorin had to work to keep his breathing even. He’d been so damn focused on that ring, on who her mother had been, he’d missed this deadly weapon right in front of him. If she learned to wield whatever power lay dormant in her veins? She was a wildfire waiting to be unleashed.

This was Death’s Shadow? This was the one whom people only whispered of in the streets? This was the one they feared more than death itself because it meant that the Wraiths of Death were coming for them? Death’s Shadow always found you first. Mortals believed Night Children and Witches were bedtime stories, but the Wraiths of Death were nightmares made flesh. And Scarlett was casually in her company? Piece after piece fell into place, and his head whipped back to Scarlett. “You were trained in the Black Syndicate? You were trained by them. She’s the ‘her’ you are constantly referring to around me.”

He stepped towards Scarlett, and she snarled at him. He froze involuntarily, as if his body had no choice. Her Fae instincts were taking over, and she had no idea. Fae were clever and cultured enough, but they were also far more primal when it came to instincts. It’s why their senses were impeccable. It’s why they could smell and hear better than mortals. It’s why they became territorial and protective and could become savage on the battlefields when they let those survival instincts take over completely. A snarl like the one she’d just given? That was a command to stand down, an order, but he was not her subject.

Quicker than she could move, he grabbed her arm and pulled her to him, baring his teeth. He wrapped an arm around her waist as he growled into her ear, “You and that tongue still have not learned manners. I am a general in your king’s armies. I will not be dismissed.”

Scarlett only smirked at him, pressing herself up against his front. He could feel every inch of her that touched him. Oh, she knew how to wield every weapon in her arsenal and how to wield them well. “If only I answered to the king,” she purred. Then she leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “Careful, Sorin. I bite.”

“She might bite, but I grow fangs.”

“They are mine,” came a low, rough voice from behind them. The young assassin’s eyes widened in fear as the Lord of the Assassins appeared. His hood was up as usual, hiding his features from view.

“Are you aware that I am still waiting for you to complete your assignment? Or is retribution for your mother’s death no longer enough motivation for you?” “I would prefer to know why he is my target before I take his life,” Scarlett answered. Nuri stood quietly, looking between her adoptive father and her chosen sister. She did not know who her target was. No one else did. “You question me still?” “I will always question you,” she retorted. “I will question you until you agree to go after Mikale.”

“What I want is retribution for Juliette’s death!” “You will not get it,” he replied coldly. As he turned to leave, he said, “Complete this assignment and come home.”

“Complete this assignment, Scarlett. If you do not, you may very well find your home to be with the one you so greatly desire revenge against.” Scarlett felt herself pale. He couldn’t be serious. He would give her to Mikale? “You wouldn’t,” she breathed. “I will if you force my hand,” he answered, stepping back from her. “Are we now clear on what is expected of you?” “Crystal,” she said bitterly.

Sorin jerked back from her, as if only now realizing he was herding her down a darkened alleyway and what that would look like to a passerby. Scarlett laughed under her breath, but it seemed to unleash something in him. He stalked toward her, a predator circling its prey, and her breath hitched. She backed up a step, then another, until her back was indeed against the wall at the end of the alley.

“Oh, I am very interested in these skills I am unaware of,” he answered, his voice low. “Oh my gods,” Scarlett groaned, leaning her head back against the wall.

“Tonight, Sorin,” she replied, placing her hand delicately on his wrist. She could see her mother’s ring glittering in the little sunlight that filtered into the alley. She saw Sorin glance to her ring, too. “Tonight, I do not need to be reined in. Tonight I need to be let out, and you will not like what you learn if you do not stay away.”

“Tell me you are really here. Tell me you are standing in my bedroom, completely from the shadows, like you used to do all those months ago.” “I—” she started, but didn’t get another word out. She heard the dagger he was holding clatter to the floor, and then he was before her. His hands were on her face and his mouth was on hers. Her own hands came up and her fingers slid into his hair. He backed her against the wall, and she gasped as he slid his tongue along her lips, remembering the last time she’d been against this same wall. He was instantly inside her mouth, and she felt him against her teeth, the roof of her mouth. He pulled back, looking into her eyes. His own eyes were glazed and full of disbelief and lust.

This. Looking into his eyes and not allowing herself to give in to what they had been, and by the gods, she was failing.

There was a small stack of papers in the drawer, and the one on the very top was addressed to her. She picked it up but found other notes underneath. Every single note she had ever slipped to him lay in that drawer.

“I look for you, you know. I look for you every time the court gathers. I look for you at every ball, every gala, every dinner.” Another step. “I look for that glimmer of silver hair. I listen for that voice that—” “Stop, Callan,” Scarlett whispered, her eyes going to the floor. But he didn’t. Another step. “Every night I come to my rooms. Alone. Just in case you will slip from the shadows.” Another step.

“Look at me, Scarlett Monrhoe.” His tone was firm, an order from a prince. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t bring her eyes to his. She felt him move then, reaching for her braid that hung over her shoulder. He pulled the string from the end and slowly undid the plaits. He’d hated her hair when it was braided back.

One of his hands hooked under her chin. “Look at me, Scarlett,” he repeated, his tone softer, coaxing. “Please.” She let him lift her chin, and his hazel eyes locked onto hers, searching for anything to cling to. “And now that I am before you, Prince? What do you wish to say to me?” she whispered. “Now? Now I am afraid to say anything to you. Now I am afraid that one wrong word and you will become the Wraith of Shadows that I lost once more,” he answered, his other hand slipping into her hair.

“When you stand before me so heavily armed, I am holding my breath, just waiting for you to disappear. I know you will not leave without your weapons.” When she didn’t answer, he said again, “Please, Scarlett. No one is coming in here tonight. There will be no more interruptions. I have told the guard outside my rooms to let no one near my door the rest of the night.” She slowly reached for the buckle holding her sword to her back. Her eyes never left his as she undid it and set her sword with her cloak on the desk chair. She unclasped the vambraces from her wrists. He watched every move as she unbuttoned her jacket and removed the hidden daggers from the insides, then her weapons belt and the dagger strapped to her thigh. Finally, she pulled the two daggers from her boots. “Gods,” he breathed. “I forgot how…”

“I forgot how, even with everything I want to yell at you and demand from you, how even with all of that running through my mind, I would let you kill me, just to run my fingers through your hair one more time.” “I am not here for this,” Scarlett rasped, bringing her hand up and wrapping her fingers around his, closing her eyes again. She soaked in the touch of his fingers on her cheek for a moment longer. One more moment, and then she’d shatter his world again and tell him why she was here.

but this? This is a damn close second.” And he was kissing her again. Slow and deep and lovely. One of his hands went around her waist, tugging her to him, as if he couldn’t stand to have any amount of space between them, and she felt him press against her front.

licking the hollow of her throat. A moan escaped her that had him answering with a growl of his own.

“Do you want me to stop?” She took him in, too. This man that she had loved once, maybe still did. This man who, despite what he had said, was a prince, would one day be king. She could never be what he needed, who he would need at his side. But tonight? “No,” she breathed,

She savored it. The heaviness of his arm wrapped around her. The feel of her legs intertwined with his under the blankets. The rise and fall of his chest. The smell of him. The taste of him.

“Tell me that then,” he replied. “Tell me you suddenly decided that being my friend, being more than that, was no longer something you desired.” “I told you,” she cried. “I told you tonight would change nothing. I told you this is not what I came for.” “And I told you I did not care.” He took her face in his hands. “Tell me what happened a year ago, Scarlett. Tell me, and I will take care of it.” Scarlett closed her eyes, making herself breathe in and out. In and out. She hadn’t realized tears were slipping down her cheeks until she felt him kissing them away. Then he pressed those salty lips to her own.

She brought her lips to his chest and began kissing her own way up to his neck. He groaned low in his throat as her hands roamed down, and she continued to kiss up. “You really are quite persuasive,” he ground out. “Oh, I know, your Highness,” she murmured, her lips finally finding his again. In a heartbeat, Callan had rolled and flipped her underneath him, and she pushed that self-hatred for what she was doing to him down, down, down as she let herself out of that cage she’d been shoved into.

She was out the window faster than an alley cat, but not fast enough to escape the words that came from his lips. I love you. Not fast enough to escape the crushing ache that exploded in her chest at those three syllables.

Who put her in a cage in the first place?” Sorin demanded. He would explain about his name later. His eyes were fixed on Scarlett as she swayed and moved with her melody, as if every minute she played was another release. “People who will do whatever they can to shove her back in it,” Cassius answered grimly.

Sorin froze. Scarlett was Death’s Maiden? Scarlett was one of the Wraiths of Death? He looked to Cassius, who gave him an affirming nod. Of the three Wraiths of Death, Death’s Maiden was the most feared. Death’s Shadow tracked you, and Death Incarnate ended you, but in between those two things, you dealt with Death’s Maiden. She was the one who executed whatever ministrations were included in the job. She was the one who bloodied you, the one who knew how to torture and keep you alive and conscious while she did so. They all knew how to do those things, he supposed, but that was her job in the trio. You begged for Death Incarnate by the end.

“Fae of fire,” Nuri hissed from under that hood, and Sorin’s eyes snapped to that figure pinned to the floor. Her voice was unearthly, not mortal in the slightest. Scarlett pushed on that dagger again, and the tang of Nuri’s blood filled his nose, her scent clinging to his nostrils. Moonlight and blood and snow. His eyes widened as more pieces clicked into place.

I am no Lady, and my tongue is still none of your concern.” “Are you sure?” he asked with a tilt of his head. “I am sure I could find a much better use for it.” Scarlett’s eyes narrowed at him as he took another step closer. “No, you most certainly are not a Lady,” he said, crouching before her. “But it begs the question then, doesn’t it?” “What question?” she snapped. “Who are you?”

A face as pale as moonlight with honey-colored eyes stared back, a wicked grin of ecstasy greeting him. “Show me,” he demanded. “Whatever do you mean?” Nuri asked sweetly. She made to stand, but Sorin slammed his hand over the wound in her arm. She sucked in a breath of pain. “Show me.” His voice was lethal. Nuri glared at him, then grinned wide as fangs slid from their sheaths in her gums.

They know I am…something other like they suspect about themselves, but they do not know I am one of the Night Children,”

“You are injured,” he said with a pointed glance to her arm. He sliced a line down it while she watched. Her eyes glazed over with hunger, her pupils dilating, as she watched the blood flow from the gash, and they flashed up to his as he held out his arm to her. “Drink. Heal. And then you have much to tell me, Daughter of Night.” “Magic does not work here. You know that,” Nuri replied. “Fae blood is different. You will see.”

‘You let me out, but who shall rein me back in?’ And the vampyre’s words in response— ‘That is why I made sure he was here.’

His scent of ashes, cloves, and cedar wrapped around her, and she had to work to not inhale deeply as well. Something deep in her soul opened an eye.

“Because I do not know what you are yet, and she will hunt you. The less you know, the easier it is for me to keep you safe from her,”

It was not a gentle kiss as he forced her lips apart, and his tongue slid into her mouth. One of his hands slipped to her waist, pulling her against him while his other hand cupped the nape of her neck, holding her in place. His tongue tangled with her own as they fought for dominance.