‘“My stepfather beat the shit out of me as a child, priest. And all it ever taught me was how to hate him.” I fixed Rafa with a glower. “It’s the lowest kind of man who raises a fist to his child and calls it love. And it’s the worst kind of tyrant who demands you adore him above all others.” I shook my head, looking the old man up and down. “That wheel hanging around your neck won’t keep you warm in the dark, priest. It won’t ever love you back. And silver it might be, but one night, you’re going to learn just how little it’s actually worth.”
‘Dior looked at me then, blue eyes drifting to the silver on my skin. It seemed as if the lad were about to speak, when …
‘“Chloe!”
‘I glanced up at the distant shout, eyes narrowed in the dark. I could see Phoebe loping across the snowy hillside, the lioness just a shadow on the grey. And behind her …
‘“Saoirse?” Dior called, sitting up on his branch.
‘The slayer was waving as she dashed towards us, and I tucked away my map and bottle, dropped down from my branch, and ran out to meet her. As she reached my side, Saoirse bent double, chest heaving like a bellows. The slayer looked as if she’d sprinted all the way from Alethe.
‘“Troubles?”
‘The girl nodded, gasping to find her breath. “Yer b-bonny … prince …”
‘My belly filled with tiny cold butterflies. “Danton.”
‘“He rides,” Saoirse gasped. “But a handful o’ miles south. A dozen men and horses.”
‘“Horses?” Bellamy demanded. “I thought beasts of earth and sky feared the Dead?”
‘“The blood,” I told him. “Drink three times over three nights and you’ll be a slave to your master’s will. No matter how much you fear him. Danton could have thralled a hundred men and horse by now.”
‘“Nae that many.” Saoirse straightened, met Chloe’s eyes. “But plenty.”
‘“Gabe?” Chloe asked. “Do we fight?”
‘I looked to my old friend, standing wide-eyed in the snow with her ragged company: Slayer and Soothsinger and Priest and Pet. In truth, I gave not a speck of shit for any of them save her. But last of all, shielded behind Chloe like she might protect him from all the hurts of the world, stood the Boy.
‘My Bait.
‘He’d brought Danton to me. Just as I’d hoped. And with a mere dozen men at his side, I put my odds about even I could get my hand around that bastard’s throat. I owed his famille blood. And the longer we ran, the longer Danton would have to build a force I couldn’t hope to face. Stray wretched, sellswords, other highbloods seeking the Forever King’s favour. Better to strike now, with some fodder to throw, with a bandolier full of silverbombs and the faith of two true believers to blind him. I could protect Chloe. What matter if the others fell? What were these people to me?
‘Nothing.
‘Nothing and no one.
‘But the Boy. The Bait. The Blood. Washing across those open necks and sealing them closed. Burning in the gullets of those wretched and setting them aflame. I’d known the truth for years. There was no magik silvershot, no divine prophecy, no holy fucking chalice that would bring an end to this darkness.
‘This was our here and our now and our forever.
‘Wasn’t it?
‘Looking skywards, I found myself trying to remember what it had been like to actually see stars overhead. I could recall them dimly from my youth – cradled like diamonds in the midnight arms of heaven. All was blackness now, only the crescents of dim red moons to light my way. But for the first time in as long as I could remember, I wondered.
‘“Gabe?” Chloe asked, desperate now. “Do we fight?”
‘“No,” I sighed. “We flee.”’
XI
A BLACK CROWN
‘“RIDE FOR THE river!”
‘Wind whipping our skin. Sleet slashing our eyes. Jezebel was an engine of muscle and bone beneath me, the company at my back. I took the lead, riding as hard as the others could follow. The light from my hunter’s lantern bounced and strobed, throwing mad shadows ahead. I could hear Chloe and Dior behind, Saoirse and Rafa coming next, Bellamy in the rear. Chill snatching the breath from our lungs, we rode. We rode as if all our lives hung in the balance. As if the devil himself rode behind us. Because of course, he did.
‘And he was gaining.
‘Grace three times the tongue of man or woman with the blood of the kith, and they will be a slave. But not some callow serf, with broken back and battered heart. Some measure of unholy strength will be gifted, master to thrall, making them more than a match for any man. Horses and hounds aren’t so different to humans, save the former tend to die with dignity and the latter with blubbery. I knew not where Danton had found his mounts or his men, but it mattered little in the end. He had both in abundance – a burly dozen, their thralled sosyas running harder and faster than ours could hope to match. And behind, with all the insufferable arrogance of a bastard who believes in his bones that he was born to rule, came the youngest son of the Forever King.
‘The Beast of Vellene.
‘He’d returned to Dhahaeth after I’d left, and he’d fetched his fucking coach. But rather than the corpses of murdered girls, it was now drawn by four swift sosyas, the horses’ eyes flushed crimson, their mouths frothing blood. I hoped the folk of Dhahaeth had given Danton what he wanted without resistance – that he’d been so keen to avenge himself on me, he hadn’t stopped to wreak vengeance upon them.
‘I hoped. But I doubted it.
‘Riding off road was too deep a risk in the dark – one rabbit hole or cruel branch under Chloe’s horse and all would be undone. And so we hammered down a muddy road, dying trees at our flanks. I glanced to the Silver Sister, the boy behind, the pair riding fierce as they dared. The fate of the world just a few feet away.
‘“Why run, de León?” came a call from behind. “When I can follow forever?”
‘The bastard spoke true and I knew it – at this pace our horses would break within a few miles, and on foot, we could never outrun a highblood. I’d no clue how far the river could be, and if Haemun’s Bridge was still standing …
‘Chloe cried out, hand to brow. Her horse thundered on, but Dior had to lunge for the reins, clutching the small woman in his arms.
‘“Sister Chloe!”
‘“He …” Chloe gasped, wincing. “He’s in … m-my head …”
‘I turned in my saddle and saw him. Like a shadow at morning striding behind you. His eyes were red and full as children’s graves, sharp teeth and a butcher’s smile. He leaned out the carriage window, hair swept back from his widow’s peak. On the driver’s perch sat a girl with dark skin and pretty green eyes. Faint red stain at her chin. I recognized the serving lass from the Perfect Husband. Refusing to remember her name.
‘“Guard your thoughts, Chloe! Fill your head, force him out!”
‘She clutched the sevenstar at her throat. “The Lord is my shield, unb-breakable …”
‘Danton’s riders swept before him, now only a dozen yards off our backs. Farmers and masons, a few militia members among them – once men with lives and wives and dreams, now naught but slaves to his will. I held my pipe between gritted fangs as I fumbled for a phial of sanctus. I’d no time to measure, tipping the whole lot into the bowl and spilling most, tamping it down with my thumb. I tried a half-dozen times to light my flintbox, finally dragging down a ragged, burned lungful, feeling that potency unfurl, the beast in me awaken. And reaching into my belt, I drew my wheellock, twisted in my saddle.