Page 99 of Cursed Shadows 2

Breaking the stiffness of the warriors in the courtyard, a dozen or so dokkalves move for the tarry window.

My gaze snaps to Daxeel. He’s one of the contenders to step forward.

Heart in my throat, I scream in my mind for him to look at me. He doesn’t. Not once as he moves with Rune and Samick for the black pool does he spare me the look I desperately need from him.

I’m so focused on piercing the back of his head with my stare alone that I don’t notice his boots. Not until it’s too late, and he’s stepping onto the edge of the tar.

Rune and Samick follow at his side.

And then—

They vanish.

In a blink, they drop into the tar like it’s a deep lake. And they are gone. Just like that, they have fallen into the window, and Daxeel didn’t look at me once.

More advance on the tar, then fall into it.

It goes on and on, litalves and dokkalves, until all the contenders have vanished and the only ones in the courtyard are the iilra, who straighten their spines and spread out their blackened hands and keep their chants in whispers.

But I can see the contenders in the surface of the black pool. The reflection of another place, a sea and a cliff and woods.

I’m too far up in the stand to see everything, and the images are choppy, the faces of some contenders larger than others, like they are closer to the portal on the other side.

I don’t see Daxeel in any of those faces.

Wherever he is on the other side, it’s far from the portal, far from the magick, and he feels farthest from me.

21

DAXEEL

††††††

Black metal—ateralum—is the strongest of any metal found in any land. So strong that not even the black powder can fully heal wounds caused by it. For Daxeel’s career as an extractor, it’s a preferred metal of his. Because even if the wounds of his targets are healed, those ugly scars keep forever.

He has a favourite scar to leave on his targets.

A smile.

Ear to mouth, mouth to ear. If one wears this scar, they have been in Daxeel’s chair.

He considers it something of a signature. Something that wouldn’t be possible without ateralum—and neither would this.

Hilt in his leathered fist, he throws his weight up the cliffside and rams the black metal knife into the tiny crevice between the rocks. Strong metal, it never fails him. It supports his weight all the way up the cliff.

Rune and Samick keep pace on either side of him.

Wherever Caius is, Daxeel doesn’t know, and he hopes not to.

With every light fae contender out for his blood and his brother’s, their chances of success are better if they stay apart in the passages.

Samick and Rune will have Daxeel’s back, and so will any other dark warrior they come across, but it’ll be quiet up there when they reach the caves. He doesn’t expect many.

One of the advantages that the iilra orchestrated with his evate bond: Nari, the ultimate anchor. Without the bond to hold onto, when he stepped through the portal, his landing would have been random. But with her, his tight mental gripon her heartache, her fear, he focused only on the visual of the caves.

It got him close enough. Right at the bottom of the cliff.

He only has to climb.

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