Page 3 of Winds of Darkness
Her eyes narrowed on him. “I would advise you to make wise choices in this moment, Rayner.”
“Where are they?” he repeated.
“They have been assigned to their duties, as all Fae in the colony are when they emerge.”
“Where are they?” he bellowed, ashes falling from his hands. Hands that were shaking so violently, he couldn’t control it.
A faint smile reappeared on Moranna’s mouth. “The oldest will be assigned as a power vessel in the hopes that something can still come of that Ash Rider blood. The youngest, however, has been assigned to board the ferries, as she will not be able to contribute anything to the colony.”
Rayner was spinning on his heel before the Baroness had finished speaking. He didn’t bother with the stairs, moving among the smoke of the sconces that lined the various levels , feeling the grey wisps brush along his being as he went. His boots landed on the stone ground of the main level a minute later, and he was running. There was a door at the back of this chamber. A door he only entered when Moranna required him to end life, usually of those who had committed crimes against the colony. The bodies were loaded onto boats that followed the small stream that ran through the cliffs out to the beach where others were assigned to dispose of them, usually those with fire or earth gifts. But to kill a child?Simply because she would not be powerful? She could dosomethingwhen she was older. But death?
Icy horror washed through him as realization sank into him. The Fae—thechildren—who would disappear, assigned to duties outside the cliffs. They had all been killed for simply not being powerful enough. For not being born with the gifts the Baroness desired. Who would carry out those types of orders?
But he would have a few years ago. No questions asked if the Baroness had told him it was required to keep them safe. Fuck, maybe he had, and she just hadn’t told him the truth about those he had killed. She had never ordered him to kill a child, but would he have questioned her?
He had to believe he would have said no because if not …
But he hadn’t said no to any of the orders he’d been given to hand out death. The sword strapped down his back had innocent blood on it. His gifts had been used to maim and destroy and kill those who had never deserved it. Who had simply been born in the wrong place at the wrong moment in time. They had been taught the gods had blessed them to be born away from the world in the safety of the cliffs, when in reality they had been abandoned by the gods and cursed by the Fates.
He skidded to a halt outside the iron door. He couldn’t cross the wards to this chamber of his own volition. One of the few rooms he did not have free access to.
Now he knew why.
Two guards came rushing up behind him, confusion etched along their features. “Do either of you have access to this chamber?” Rayner demanded.
“No, Ash Rider,” one answered, his confusion shifting to trepidation as he watched Rayner. “Only the Baroness and the Marshals can enter at will.”
The Marshals. He’d known they could enter at will, but that was because there were cells in that chamber to hold criminals while they served time for their crimes. Not because …
But the more he thought about it, that fit too. The Marshalsnot only oversaw the cells, but were in charge of the overseers who monitored the Fae and one Marshal, Feris, was the Captain of them all. He was a mean fucker that Rayner was grateful he’d rarely had to deal with, let alone answer to, but gods. Would he have put everything together sooner if he had been around the male more? Could he have stopped or changed any of this?
The iron door creaked, and one of the Marshals stuck his head out, a flickering torch in his hand. “What the fuck is going on out here? Don’t you lot know it’s the middle of the godsdamn night?” he grunted.
But that door opening was all Rayner needed. He moved among the smoke wafting up from the flames, appearing behind the Marshal, a dagger already pulled and slicing across the male’s throat. He’d snatched the torch from his hand and was racing down the passageway before the Marshal’s body had hit the ground.
He could hear them, the sounds of frightened people. He could smell the fear in the air. Moving again among the smoke, he left the torch behind and appeared in the large chamber where the stream filled a large pool. He materialized in the middle of a group of Marshals, two daggers leaving his hands and flying in opposite directions. Ducking when a sword came for him, he pulled a knife from his boot. He threw it, and the knife disappeared among ashes that swirled in his palm. He followed in another wisp of smoke, reappearing behind the swordsman. Rayner spun towards a large hearth along one wall of the chamber where the knife appeared in the ashes, still airborne from the force of his throw, lodging itself in the male’s gut.
He heard more boots thundering down the passageway, and he moved to meet the guards, drawing his sword as he did. Arrows flew for him, but ashes were pouring out of one palm, creating a shield around him that the arrows bounced off of, clattering harmlessly to the ground. He lost track of how many guards he killed, the screams of frightened children and Fae echoing in the chamber. He couldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop until they were all dead, and Breya would be safe and—
“Rayner.”
The sound of her voice had him spinning around to find her. How had she gotten down here so fast? But when his eyes landed on Moranna, his magic guttered. His shield fell away, bits of white ashes floating to the ground. She held a dagger in her hand, blood dripping off the end onto …
Onto the still form of a child with bright red hair lying in a growing pool of blood at her feet.
He’d dropped to his knees at some point, because suddenly Moranna’s red painted nail was tipping up his chin, and he was staring into depthless dark eyes. She clicked her tongue at him, and a pitying pout formed on her lips. “Such poor choices, my Ash Rider.”
“She was a child,” he rasped, his eyes dropping back to the unmoving body.
“She was no longer of any use to me. Why would I feed and house something that is unable to offer me anything in return?” she replied, finger sliding along his jaw. “You’ve created quite the mess down here, Rayner. I cannot let this go unpunished.”
He dragged his eyes back to her, but before he could reply, something was clamped onto his wrist. “Shirastone does not work on me,” he snarled, jerking away from her touch.
“I know,” she said soothingly. Then she leaned in closer to whisper into his ear, “That’s why it is not shirastone.”
He felt it then. The smothering of his magic. It was like shirastone but magnified by thousands. And the draining. Gods, he could feel his magic draining away. More than that, he could feel his verylife-forcedraining away.
“What is the final count?” Moranna asked, straightening and taking a step back from him.
