Page 183 of Crown of Darkness
They’re quiet tonight, his daemons.
Almost as if they know where we are and what we face.
But there’s nothing but determination in his expression.
The world plunges into a primeval darkness. My heart stutters in my chest, a scream of fear trapped in my throat. I’ve never felt his power fully unleashed, but there’s something large and dangerous within those shadows, a predator that makes even me want to flee….
A spark of red light burns within the darkness.
A spark of rage.
And then there’s a whisper: “Where haveyoubeen hiding, my little darkyn?” And then Angharad laughs. “Of course. How did I not see it? She was such a beautiful queen. So powerful. So full of rage and defiance. Of course he would have sought to break her, but your mother clearly had one last little secret to keep.”
The darkness burns away. Chains of red fire lash around Thiago’s throat and chest, but he cleaves them with a single stroke of his hand.
“I wonder if your father knows of your existence?” Angharad muses.
His shadows lunge for her, swallowing her in a cloud of darkness. For a second I think she’s gone, but then her laughter echoes through the cavern. A red collar forms around one of the shadows, and it screams with rage. Another collar glows. A second daemon is struck down, writhing on the floor at her feet.
Angharad straightens as the other three draw back. “Your father taught me many tricks, little princeling. But there are some things even he did not know.” She spins red light to life in her hands. “When Death fell, they carved him apart with the fires of the Underworld.” Hot light burns around her fingers. “It is the only thing the shades of Death’s soul fear.”
Lunging forward, the light in her hand’s forms into a sword, and she sweeps it through the nearest shadow daemon.
The scream it makes almost shatters my eardrums. I clap my hands over my ears.
When it’s finally, blessedly over, I see Thiago on his knees.
Four of his daemons writhe around his shoulders, but there’s fear in them now. All those malicious little whispers are muted.
“If your father could see you now,” Angharad spits, “he would tear your head from your shoulders for daring to pretend you’re even a hint of what he is.”
Thiago looks at me. Simply looks. “I am a million times the man my father is.”
There’s a thousand words in the narrow flicker of his eyes. Desperation. Determination. And love.
A father’s love for the child he’s never known.
“Don’t,” I whisper.“Get her out of here.”
But it’s too late.
He climbs to his feet.
Angharad laughs, light flooding from the crack at her feet. She grabs a fistful of Amaya’s hair and puts the knife to my daughter’s throat. “Not another step closer, dark prince.”
“You want your sacrifice?” he growls. “Then take me instead.”
No. I start to climb down the slope, slipping and sliding desperately.
“This is a child of thedan,” she hisses. “Her power is absolute.”
“And I am a child of Death.”
He’s never said it. Not out loud. But the sound of his voice cracks through the cavern, and I swear that every single creature in the place sucks in a sharp breath.
Angharad straightens, dragging the knife from Amaya’s throat. Amaya cries out, trying to bite her knuckles, but Angharad merely shoves her away and turns to face Thiago.
My little girl hits the floor, and just for a second, our eyes meet.
