wicked curved knife from his belt. “You’ll be awake again in no time.” Pulling open one heavy door, she raced out into the black-as-black embrace of the night.
CHAPTER TEN
H ER FEET, CLAD IN THIN embroidered slippers that had appeared in the kitchen a few hours ago, slammed down on sharp edges, rocks and branches as she ran through the agitated rustling of the Whispering Forest, almost slipped on the moss that covered the bridge that spanned the restless river, but she kept running, holding her skirt high above her ankles.
The lights of the village came into view. Twinkling and warm but for the haze of sulfurous magic. Fighting the urge to throw up, she ran pell-mell toward it, taking only enough care to ensure she didn’t break her neck. For if she did, an innocent would die. Always, her father and his apprentices used innocents. Their blood was more vital, they said. Richer. Purer. But not tonight, she vowed, not tonight!
Stumbling into the periphery of the village, she had to halt so she could pinpoint the location of the evil. Slicing a small line on her palm, but not allowing the blood to touch the earth lest it give her away, she whispered for the magic to rise, to seek out its dark kin. Her power hesitated in distaste. Innocents, she urged, innocent blood. Seek innocent blood.
No hesitation now. Her power winding through the village in a crackle of deepest red, with her running in its wake. Around houses shuttered up for the night andcourtyards abandoned, through the deserted main street and onto the clear surrounds of the village green.
Her power hissed at the filth it saw, went to wrap itself around the man’s neck in a choking hold, but Liliana drew it back. Wait. Wait. We’ll have only once chance. Dark blood sorcerers, distended with power stolen from those who couldn’t defend themselves, were stronger than those like Liliana, who used only their personal reserves.
This one was a thin, handsome man, his face likely the reason he’d been able to persuade the young village maid at his feet to meet him in the thick black of night. She lay unconscious on the grass now, the sorcerer chanting incantations above her, a serrated blade in hand. That blade, Liliana knew, would go into the girl’s abdomen. A slow, torturous death, her blood seeping out drop by drop while her murderer kept her silent even in her agony and grew drunk on the force of her life, her death.
Power blazed in the air as the sorcerer made a sigil above the girl and Liliana realized he was one of the old ones for all that his face appeared young. Old and powerful. It was foolish, part of her said, to give up her life for this one girl when she had come to save a kingdom. If Liliana died, the Lord of the Black Castle would not remember, would not return.
And Elden would fall into her father’s clutches forever.
“No,” she whispered, fighting that voice, that part of her the Blood Sorcerer had attempted to turn rancid with his own evil.
One life was worth everything. For how could Liliana hope to save a kingdom if she was willing to bow down to evil when it stood in front of her?
Stepping out of the shadows, she stalked toward the sorcerer on silent feet. But he sensed her, turned. “Liliana!” Shock. “Your father seeks you.” Avarice glittered in his eyes. “Now I will be the one to take you home.”
“What reward has he offered?”
“Lands, riches, power.” He shuddered, in an ugly parody of pleasure. “The understanding with Ives is ended,” he said, referring to the man her father had intended Liliana marry—with or without her consent. “The one who finds you takes you to wife and to his bed.” Distaste he made no attempt to hide. “You are his daughter.”
That link to power, she thought, would make it worth his while to wed such a hideous creature. Bard’s knife hidden in the folds of her apron, she stepped closer. “Is that why you’re here, in this village?”
“The others, they scattered to the
CHAPTER TEN
H ER FEET, CLAD IN THIN embroidered slippers that had appeared in the kitchen a few hours ago, slammed down on sharp edges, rocks and branches as she ran through the agitated rustling of the Whispering Forest, almost slipped on the moss that covered the bridge that spanned the restless river, but she kept running, holding her skirt high above her ankles.
The lights of the village came into view. Twinkling and warm but for the haze of sulfurous magic. Fighting the urge to throw up, she ran pell-mell toward it, taking only enough care to ensure she didn’t break her neck. For if she did, an innocent would die. Always, her father and his apprentices used innocents. Their blood was more vital, they said. Richer. Purer. But not tonight, she vowed, not tonight!
Stumbling into the periphery of the village, she had to halt so she could pinpoint the location of the evil. Slicing a small line on her palm, but not allowing the blood to touch the earth lest it give her away, she whispered for the magic to rise, to seek out its dark kin. Her power hesitated in distaste. Innocents, she urged, innocent blood. Seek innocent blood.
No hesitation now. Her power winding through the village in a crackle of deepest red, with her running in its wake. Around houses shuttered up for the night andcourtyards abandoned, through the deserted main street and onto the clear surrounds of the village green.
Her power hissed at the filth it saw, went to wrap itself around the man’s neck in a choking hold, but Liliana drew it back. Wait. Wait. We’ll have only once chance. Dark blood sorcerers, distended with power stolen from those who couldn’t defend themselves, were stronger than those like Liliana, who used only their personal reserves.
This one was a thin, handsome man, his face likely the reason he’d been able to persuade the young village maid at his feet to meet him in the thick black of night. She lay unconscious on the grass now, the sorcerer chanting incantations above her, a serrated blade in hand. That blade, Liliana knew, would go into the girl’s abdomen. A slow, torturous death, her blood seeping out drop by drop while her murderer kept her silent even in her agony and grew drunk on the force of her life, her death.
Power blazed in the air as the sorcerer made a sigil above the girl and Liliana realized he was one of the old ones for all that his face appeared young. Old and powerful. It was foolish, part of her said, to give up her life for this one girl when she had come to save a kingdom. If Liliana died, the Lord of the Black Castle would not remember, would not return.
And Elden would fall into her father’s clutches forever.
“No,” she whispered, fighting that voice, that part of her the Blood Sorcerer had attempted to turn rancid with his own evil.
One life was worth everything. For how could Liliana hope to save a kingdom if she was willing to bow down to evil when it stood in front of her?
Stepping out of the shadows, she stalked toward the sorcerer on silent feet. But he sensed her, turned. “Liliana!” Shock. “Your father seeks you.” Avarice glittered in his eyes. “Now I will be the one to take you home.”
“What reward has he offered?”
“Lands, riches, power.” He shuddered, in an ugly parody of pleasure. “The understanding with Ives is ended,” he said, referring to the man her father had intended Liliana marry—with or without her consent. “The one who finds you takes you to wife and to his bed.” Distaste he made no attempt to hide. “You are his daughter.”
That link to power, she thought, would make it worth his while to wed such a hideous creature. Bard’s knife hidden in the folds of her apron, she stepped closer. “Is that why you’re here, in this village?”
“The others, they scattered to the
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