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A whimper in the bushes made her hesitate. Drakhyn did not whimper. Cautiously Tove stretched forward her sword and prodded the bushes. A yelp sounded, and with a sigh of exasperation, Tove reached into the bush and pulled out a female.
“Talia?” Tegan gasped.
The older woman was a mess. Her hair was wild, her face coated in dirt, her clothes which had been immaculate in the Headquarters, were now torn and dirty. “They took her.” Talia sniffled as she wrung her hands. “They took her and left me.” She hung her head in despair. “They left me and took her.”
“You think they should have taken you?” Tegan asked the older female carefully.
“Yes! I am the Priestess, not that silly little strumpet.”
Tegan looked to Tove, and Tove made a motion that she would explain to her later. “You led our enemy to your granddaughter,” Tegan said to her, her voice unrecognisable even to herself as it was so hard and unforgiving.
“I thought she was the one that they sought.” Talia drew herself up to her full height. Even torn and dishevelled, her haughtiness was enviable.
“You have led her to her death,” Tegan snarled at her.
“I knew that Salem would send others for her.”
“Itisa trap then.” Tove and Tegan exchanged a look.
“Well, it’s only a trap if it works.” Talia said to them as she stood back, her smile victorious. “And I am delighted to say, it worked.”
The five Akrhyn spun around as they reached for their weapons. Shadows darker than night dropped from the trees. Tegan looked around at the Elite and gripped her twin swords in readiness. She had been right, they were heading to a trap. She just hadn’t realised she was the reason they ran right into it.
There were so many. Tegan looked around at her fellow Elites quickly. They were outnumbered. Badly.Cord!Tegan screamed in her head as she readied her weapons to defend herself and the other Elites as the Drakhyn slowly advanced.
Cord stood in front of Cornelius, trying desperately to hold onto his temper. Cornelius was gesticulating wildly and spouting absolute nonsense, well, when Cord was inclined to listen to him properly, he was talking nonsense. Cord glanced at his mother, who sat demurely as she worked on her needlepoint. Her soft slacks were light grey, her pale mint knitted twin set with tiny pearl buttons looked as if she had just freshly put them on, but Cord knew she would have been wearing them all day. His mother just always looked immaculate. Her golden blonde hair was in an elegant chignon. Her string of white pearls looked perfect for her outfit. She looked like a human. Cord had refrained from telling her this about...three times? He knew she would be insulted, which was why he was fighting the impulse to tell her.
Cornelius wore a dark suit of Italian wool. Cord knew it was Italian wool because Cornelius appreciated the finer things in life, and human tailoring was one of them, along with their wine. Cord sighed. His mother glanced up from her needlepoint with a frown, and he realised he may have sighed too loudly.
However, Cornelius was not to be deterred as he was in fine form now. “And you just stood there. You didn’t defend me when they spoke over me.”
Cord’s attention had been caught at the painting on the wall of the fiveallegedAncients in a meadow, all facing away from the painter as they were surrounded by Akrhyn. He noticed that there were Drakhyn encroaching on the peaceful scene from the shadows. Cord couldn’t for the life of him remember who had painted this, but as he looked at it more closely, he realised that the artist had been onto something. The Akrhyn were looking up to the Ancients, but the Ancients were lookingawayfrom their subjects, their attention on the dark forest from whence the shadows fell long. Was there a reason the Ancients were focused on the Darkness whilst the Akrhyn ignored the danger, too enraptured with their Ancients? Were Akrhyn too busy seeking justification from their Ancients to recognise the danger that surrounded them?
“You are not even listening to me,” Cornelius said in exasperation.
Cord’s head snapped to his stepfather and then his mother quickly. Delilah hid her frown from her husband as she carried on with her needlepoint. “I was listening to you. You were going on and on, and may I say,on, about how much I disgrace you and that you are ashamed of me.”
“I did not say I was ashamed of you.” Cornelius stopped pacing. “I am very proud of my son.”
“Sloane will be delighted to hear of this,” Cord commented dryly.
Cornelius took a deep breath. “Dear? Can you please talk to him?”
Delilah looked up, and with a small sigh, she placed her embroidery aside. “Cord, you know your father meant you.” Her warning look when he went to protest made him curb his tongue. “Of course your father is proud ofbothhis sons, but you are so muchmore.” The shine in his mother’s eyes when she spoke like this always caused Cord unease. “The Ancients blessed you with extraordinary skill when they gave you the Flare. You can do so much, Cord. You know how much your skill and training are a blessing to this House.”
“I am very well aware how much you both covet my skills, mother.”
“Now don’t be surly, you know it causes you to be spiteful.” Delilah stood and smoothed her pants with long elegant fingers. Cord had inherited his mother’s supple fingers, whereas Sloane had warrior hands like his father. For make no mistake, Cornelius was not shabby with a sword. He had been a formidable Elite. His issue wasn’t that he couldn’t fight, it was just that he was ambitious, and a seat on the Great Council was what he craved. “Your father tells me that the Great Council were aware of your subterfuge with the Lycans?”
“Yes, mother.” Cord was not on good terms with his mother most days, but he was always respectful.
“You should have left them to be targeted,” Cornelius grumbled.
“Sorry.” Cord shrugged mockingly. “I have issues with murder and rape.”
“Do not be dramatic,” Cornelius chided him. “You and I both know that the Great Council would never hold you accountable even if youwerekilling Lycans.”
“I hope that you are wrong in that,” Cord murmured.
