He struggled to calm them, but he knew they were right. Jeren still wanted him. Always would. As much as he wanted her.
Holtguards and Shistra-Phail flanked her. His own brother, their friends, and guards willing to die to protect her.
From him. From his new kindred.
Jeren’s body trembled inside, but she kept it under control, hiding it from all of them, from Shan most of all.
The light was fading in the sky and her husband, her love, stood before her as something so different, she couldn’t begin to set her feelings in proportion. She could see his face, his build, his beauty, the grace and raw physicality she loved about him. But he looked so very different.
As if someone had taken him and crafted something new to replace him.
She took a step forward and so did she. Leithen gave a grumble of protest but she lifted her hand, stilling him.
“I need to talk to him. I need to see...”
What? That he was still the same man? That he was really a monster released from Andalstrom as the frantic guard who had found them had sworn as he babbled out his story.
“They killed all those guarding the chamber, Jeren,” warned Leithen.
But her eyes fixed on Naul, still romping at Shan’s feet. The wolf knew him. That was enough to give her pause.
So maybe he still was in there somewhere.
Shan walked towards her, matching her step for step until they came to the centre of the courtyard, gazing at each other across the glassy surface of a pool. Only a couple of feet apart. And yet, worlds away from each other.
His skin glistened, the pale opalescent skin marked now with vibrant blue patterns. His hair was still white-blonde, still worn in his warrior braids. His eyes were blacker than polished jet. She couldn’t quite read an emotion in them but was aware that he studied her as closely as she studied him. Waiting for a reaction, perhaps. Or a verdict.
“It is still you,” she said at last.
He let out his breath in a long hiss and smiled. Gods, his smile was so heartstoppingly beautiful. It transformed him.
“Who else would I be, my love?”
She glanced past him at the other creatures that came with him. Beautiful in their own way, fluid and elegant. And terrible.
Creatures born to kill. Taloned, muscled, coloured like death itself in black and blue.
Creatures like Shan.
“What are they?”
“Something new. I don’t know. Otherlings. Part me, part Fell, part—part whatever was in that chamber.”
“Can you control them?”
He flinched. Only she would have noticed it, but it was clear to her as if he had spoken aloud. “For now,” he said at last.
“But not—not for long.” Her throat tightened and Shan’s expression grew grim.
“Not for long, no. I must leave, take them away to somewhere where they can’t hurt anyone.”
“And then?”
He paused. There was so much he didn’t want to say to her. He had always been an appalling liar. “I need to teach them. All they know is death and darkness. They’ll kill everything in their path if I can’t show them...”
He reached out for her hands and Jeren leaned towards him, tangling her fingers with his.
“What if you can’t?”
“Then I’ll take them somewhere isolated, away from any of the races. Somewhere safe where they can’t hurt anyone. Because if I don’t...” He glanced back at them. “They want so much to kill. Not through malevolence, but because it’s all they know. They were Fellna and the magic changed them. And me. I can’t desert them, my love.”
“I know. And they’re too dangerous to keep here. River Holt needs to heal too.”
“Come with me.”
The words were arrows to her heart. She wanted to say yes. Everything in her wanted to say yes, to fling River Holt and her magic and all the Scions of Jern behind her and escape with him, no matter what the consequences.
“You know I cannot.”
“Ah.” His grip on her hands loosened but she clung to him.
“So this is the end. Our vision was wrong. Mine was right. The end of us, with me remaining here as the Lady of River Holt. Without you.”
He swallowed hard, his throat working furiously and he tried to pull his hands away. Still, she didn’t release him. Couldn’t.
“You must choose another husband.”
Her stomach lurched. “No.”
“You need an heir. So you need a husband.”
“No!” She jerked him closer and his feet faltered on the edge of the pool but he held his ground. “Besides, Gilliad’s child will be my heir. I’ll never have another husband. You know that. I promised myself to you. Only to you.”
“I know. But Jeren...”
“Come back for me. One day.”
“I can’t promise that.”
“You can. You must. I can’t live without you.”
“You have to, little one. They need you.”
He moved so quickly, she couldn’t anticipate it, couldn’t fight him, didn’t want to. He pulled her to him, catching her before she could fall in the water, sweeping her into his arms and cradling her against his body.
“I need you,” she whispered.
But instead of answering, he kissed her. His kiss. It was still his kiss. Lips brushed lips, his tongue gently parting her mouth and filling her. He held her to him, his arms so strong, his muscles tense beneath her fevered touch. She kissed him back, trying to memorise every nuance, every movement, every caress.
The outside world rushed back in on her, weapons being drawn, shouts of alarm, Shan’s new companions snarling, preparing to attack—another war about to break out around them.
Because of them.
Jeren opened her eyes as Shan lowered her to the ground, his body sliding away from her, relinquishing her so reluctantly. For a moment she just stared at him, drinking in his nearness, his tragic smile, the ghost of his kiss as it faded on her lips.
“I love you,” he told her. “I always will.”
“Come back for me.” She only whispered the words. She couldn’t say them any louder. “Please. Don’t forget me.”
Shan stretched out his arms and stepped back from her. The Otherlings surged towards him, a flood of shadows that wrapped themselves around him, entwining him in their embrace.
And then he was gone.
Her dream of a future ended.
Chapter Sixteen
Jeren knew the moment Gilliad’s son took his first breath. What had been a riot of noise, confusion and magic inside her flared one final time and then simply faded away. The magic followed the direct line of succession, ancestral voices to whisper advice to the ruler of River Holt, or drive them insane. Father to son, or daughter, brother to sister only when there was no child. And now there was. She had never known for sure if the baby would inherit the power, part of her prayed that it would be free, but now she had her answer. The curse would live on, dormant for fifteen or twenty years—so the voices in her mind had assured her—but viable, ready to begin again when the child was old enough. Not even the gods who had cursed her ancestors would be so cruel as to inflict it on a child. Not when tearing her life apart had been so much more fulfilling. She must have sated them just a little with all she had given up. Her heartbreak and loss just a little compensation for her family’s ancient sins.
She sat in the Great Hall, enthroned above her assembled people, the visiting ambassadors and petitioners. Her heart ached for a moment and she bid a silent farewell to those ancestors who had been her comfort. Of course, all the others she wouldn’t miss for a moment. But it had been one last connection with her father and that, at least, had given her some small and unexpected joy.