Dark Heir (Dark Rise, #2)

by C.S. Pacat

Will said, “Maybe you can use your power to pull Sloane’s letter out to us.” “I can’t. I have to be looking at it.” James stopped, realizing he had just given something away. “You really are a sneak.”

He had something to say to him now. You killed my mother? I killed your son. I’m here at your dig and I’m going to end your empire.

James’s jaw set, then he turned away, clutching his own wrist. Simon had tried to brand James, over and over. James’s healing abilities had erased the brand each time. Will stepped in and gripped James hard by the shoulder, forcing James to meet his eyes as that possessiveness reared up inside him. “It didn’t take,” said Will. “He wanted it to,” said James. There was no answer to that except the one he couldn’t say. He doesn’t have you.

I have you. He didn’t say that either.

A trained fighter but with experience only of peacetime, Cyprian blinked sleepily. He didn’t wake the way Will did, silently and immediately. Will felt a flash of protectiveness.

“And if he tests my loyalty?” The words were brittle, like James’s defiant exterior. The way he was standing, the braced, expectant tension in his body—Will realized it suddenly. “You don’t like it.” Will said it like the revelation that it was. Ironic, yet it made so much sense. “You don’t like deceiving people.” Of course he didn’t. Of course, this whole time, he didn’t. James had been tense since they’d arrived, the edge on those cutting remarks growing sharper. And he’d swallowed it down, and let Kettering touch him, and even killed people, just as he once had for Sinclair.

“You shouldn’t have had to kill anyone.” Will made himself say, “You’re not going to kill for me. Especially not Sinclair. I know he was like a father to you.” “But fathers,” said James, tense, “are my speciality.” “Was that Sinclair’s test of loyalty?” said Will. “Be mine, kill your family?”

“You’re the one who shares his room.” His eyes held slow, open speculation. Will felt the air change, as St. Clair’s boy suddenly took on a spectacular new meaning. Deliberately, he loosened his limbs. It was not an approach Will had ever tried with a man before. But you could not share a lodging house for boys and remain innocent of the world. “He’s never offered me one of those.” Will glanced down at Howell’s wrist, then back up again through his lashes.

“Will, did he hurt you, did he—” Will had never seen James like this. He didn’t understand why James was concerned for him, and then he realized that James had seen Will and Captain Howell clutched together, and mistaken who was predator and who was prey.

But James wasn’t wearing the Collar. He was protecting Will because he wanted to. Sarcean never had this, Will thought with a kind of weak longing, undone by what James was giving him.

“You don’t need to sneak around untying ropes,” James murmured as he passed Will, that smile still on his face. “You have me now.” A flutter at the words you have me.

“A dozen guards won’t be any trouble,” said James, flexing his fingers. “No,” said Will. “You’re not going to kill guards.” “I don’t have to kill them to—” “Or maim guards.” “Then how exactly do you plan to get inside?” said James.

James had been carrying it all this time. Will stared at him. “When you were weak from the gate—those soldiers who captured us—any one of them could have taken it and put it on you!” He realized with horror as he said it that James had known that, and had drained himself for them anyway. James had drained himself knowing everything he risked, which had been far more than any of them had realized.

He took Will’s hand and put it on the Collar. “Someone’s going to do it.” Searing, to touch the metal with his bare hand, to feel its heat and its need. “If someone’s going to do it,” said James, “I want it to be you.”

“You’re testing me,” said Will. “You shouldn’t.” “Why not? You’re the perfect hero, aren’t you?” “I’m not your salvation,” said Will. “Are you going to let someone else put it on me? Let someone else—” “No,” said Will, the vehemence of it taking both James and himself by surprise.

“If you still want me to order you around after that, I can.” James let out an astonished breath that was part laughter, as if he couldn’t believe Will had said that. “God, you’re not like anyone else,” said James. “Neither are you,” said Will. It came out low and soft. “Put the Collar away. Follow me because you want to.” “I am. I do. Shit.”

If the Collar was eroding James’s resolve, Will would have to be strong for both of them, and he would. For as long as he had to.

king literally

No wonder you turned out the way you did.” Another smile. Lying was unlabored. “And how’s that?” He’d expected James to reply with another quip. But James gazed back at him and said, “Someone I believe could save this place.” And then, so quietly Will almost didn’t hear, “Someone I believe could save me.”

“I didn’t think you’d come.” “You called for me,”

“If you knew it was a trap, why did you come?” She sounded like it hurt her, and maybe it did. He said, “You called for me.”

oh :(

“And if I run?” “I will find you,” Anharion said. “I will always find you. Try to run.”

OH

There was another part of him that thought, This time I know you, Sarcean. This time you are the youth, and I am the man. This time you can be stopped, and I am going to stop you.

“Good day, Captain,” Visander said, evenly. “I hope your family is in good health.”

“‘Uncle Phillip’!” said Phillip, utterly outraged.

Visander stepped up and took Phillip’s arm that Elizabeth wasn’t holding. The apple knife, still in his possession, dug its point into Phillip’s rib cage. He felt Phillip go very still. “Remarkable weather we’re having,” said Visander. There was a moment when he felt Phillip hesitate, and he pressed the knife in harder. “Well, uh, we couldn’t bear to be parted,” said Phillip, smiling weakly at Maxwell. “Young love,” said Maxwell, shaking his head ruefully.

“A scoundrel!” said Visander. “You tied me to you in a human ceremony against my will!” “D’you think I wanted to marry a soldier from a dead world? I didn’t!”

“My father has opened the palace,” said Phillip. “By the time we arrive, there won’t be an Italy.”

Will looked up at Howell, James’s warm, sticky blood under his hands. If you knew what I was, Will thought, feeling an echo of Sarcean’s anger, you would never dare challenge me, beneath my very throne.

It’s very dark here. I can’t see the stars. Justice, were you a dream? I think if you were not real I would have had to dream you.

This cage will open. I will see your face. And you will draw your sword. I know that you will be the last thing I will see. I know it. Justice. It’s just so dark. He is coming. He is coming. He is coming.

“You may be a dead man from a defunct world, but you are my wife, and you can’t appear at dinner without dressing!”

“It’s three seasons old, at least,” said Phillip, in a pained voice. “What sort of provincial backwater did you buy it in?” “The Little Dover Dress Shop.” Visander bit out each word, fuming that he knew the answer.

“It still has an empire waist,” said Phillip, a kind of agony on his face. “You know, here we have fashion, we don’t just go about wearing robes for ten thousand years.”

“What happened to your escort from London?” “I killed them,” said Visander.

The Devil didn’t say anything. After a long moment, he took another swig of the spirits, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, then gestured at Cyprian with his chin. “Make that one ask nicely.” Cyprian didn’t have to turn to know Will’s eyes were on him. “Please,” said Cyprian, flatly. The Devil let out a snort of breath through his nose. He looked at Cyprian in the firelight, a long look overbrimming with sadistic satisfaction. “On your knees.”

“The Stewards,” said James, “spent my whole life trying to kill me.” “Marcus didn’t,” said Cyprian. “Marcus spent all his time trying to talk Father around. Even when you started killing for Sinclair, he thought there was a way to bring you back into the fold.” James just stared at him.

“You really are just like Father,” said James. “You can’t believe I’m on your side.” “Until Sinclair collars you. Or until the Dark King returns. Then you’ll go running back.” Cyprian stared him down. “You’re the Betrayer. I’m just waiting for you to turn.” “Like a shieldmate?” said James. The gall of that left him breathless. “Is there nothing you won’t mock or tear down?” “Go do your exercises,” said James. “Go take up your sword and practice the empty forms and the chants and the ceremonies, perfecting them endlessly for no one.”

“Because they’re dead,” said Cyprian. “They’re all dead.” The Devil was casual in his seat on the horse. “Oh? How’d they die?” “I killed them,” said James. “So don’t get fancy.”

“No,” said Cyprian.

“I’m not Simon’s fiancée. I am your wife,” said Visander, and something very strange happened inside him when he said that. “I,” said Phillip, carefully not moving his hand on Visander’s small waist, “suppose that’s true.”

“Well, let’s try to give him a better day, then.” Phillip said it with an easy smile that was genuine, and that reminded her of Katherine too, that boundless, good-natured generosity.

“As will I,” said James. “If your men don’t mind fighting with a witch.” “I’d rather fight with you than against you,” said Ettore, ever pragmatic.

“Then what do we do?” Cyprian spoke for the others. “We can’t fight an army that can take us over.” A familiar voice from the doorway said, “Wanna bet?”

“I can take you or leave you,” drawled a voice, and she drew back to see James St. Clair.

“It’s him,” James said again. That was even more frightening, for the Dark King to retain his power over James, even in a faded copy.

Violet said, “So . . . we need a Dark creature of our own.” “James,” said Cyprian. “Oh, thanks ever so,” said James.

Seeing him now, Will felt lost forever to the knowledge that James was all he had wanted in his past life, and could never possess in this one. James leaned back and regarded him with the same warmth with which Anharion had first regarded Sarcean.

“We need you at the gate.” “I can’t protect you at the gate.”

I know you won’t let them down. I know you’ll do everything you can to protect them. That’s what you are, you know. A protector.” James’s eyes widened further, as if he had never received that kind of praise before, and didn’t know what to do with it. “I see that in you,” Will said, “even if your father didn’t. I’ve seen what you’ve given to fight on this side.” James turned away as if his feelings had crested, and this was what Will wanted to protect in turn, this part of James that was so rarely seen.

“If he came back,” said James, “and I felt something for anyone, it would be a death sentence.” A death sentence for them, thought Will.