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One thing was certain—they were delusional if they expected him to bow down or prove his worth.
A shift in the wind jerked his head to a dark aperture in the trees. Through the warbled heat, he spotted a monstrous shape. Pain radiated through his chest, the sliver of a dark crystal embedded in his heart thrumming from the presence of the foulest magic. A remnant of a lost fight against Corrupt.
He withdrew his father’s blade. No matter how much his body protested another fight, his mind always craved it.
Renton shot toward the feingrot, casting out a web of illusion magic. Though his magic was weak, untrained, it was enough to render him invisible for moments at a time. Other hunters considered this a cheap trick, a way to mask lack of skill. But there was nothing quite as satisfying as watching his enemies startle when he vanished into thin air.
The feingrot roared in fury, rising up on its hind legs. Renton slid under its body. With a great thrust, he stabbed his blade deep into its ribcage. Pleased with the snap of bones, he ripped his weapon free and rolled out from under its carcass before it hit the ground with a solid thud.
Renton flicked acidic blood from his sword. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, magnified by the stench of Chaos that spilled from the feingrot’s corpse. He’d been trained to hate that smell. Trained to hate its casters too.
The shard in his chest pulsed, drawing a grunt from him. Pain radiated through his bones as if the thing hungered to infect the deepest part of his soul. He pressed a fist over the old scar.
Not now, damn it.
Biting through the pain, he tracked the new source of Chaos magic just as his mount returned from delivering what he hoped was the last round of Vozarians.Good. He could focus on his hunt now. The beast snorted and stamped its feet in protest as he strode past it, but Renton didn’t halt his war path.
“You draw more feingrot out of those trees, and you’re on your own,” he warned, jabbing his finger out at the beast perched on what was left of the severed library balcony.
His shard coaxed him farther into the manor wreckage. He clutched his blade tighter, practicing long breaths to keep his heart rate even. Kneeling at the source, he swept his fingers through hot debris. The shard delivered another punishing wave of pain as he touched flesh. He jerked his hand back instinctively.
Was there a chance his targets hadn’t escaped?
Renton had scoured the forest in search of them, but all he’d sensed was the lingering Chaos threaded around the feingrot Kherathi had manipulated in his attack like some sort of disturbed puppet master.
Glancing down at his hand, Renton shuddered at the little sparks of black lightning jumping across his skin. Not enough to Corrupt, but it was only a matter of time, the path of a hunter short-lived.
He shoved his hand back into the debris and yanked at the arm until a body sprang free.
“Fucking hell,” he uttered as he took in the lifeless form. Death had never frightened him. But Tenah Delemor was supposed to buy his brother freedom.
While Renton had earned his criminal record through unsavory behavior in his younger years, his brother had done nothing more than share blood with their father, the only chieftain with enough balls to call Boedworth out as a wretched dictator. Because of this, Aeyis had become a prisoner, and the only way Renton could assure Aeyis didn’t lose his life too was through continued servitude.
He dragged a hand down the side of his face, struggling to come up with a solution to his mess. He’d accept punishment for his insubordination, but would his brother be spared? That was always the most crucial question.
Beneath that concern, he was surprised by the potency of his disappointment. When she’d walked into that library, he’d found himself jealous of the powerful Ashen on her arm, the thought striking him that he should be the one touching her instead.
After discovering who she was, the idea of throwing her over a shoulder and hauling her to Cragnore had unsettled him. Unless his years of experience and the blasted shard in his chest had failed him, she was not Corrupt. No ache in his chest. No evident signs of Corruption swirling in her lovely, bronze skin. Her mind had been sharp during their brief conversation too.
So why did Boedworth want her? No way the High Court had agreed to systematically eliminate anyone tied to Chaos. That would be barbaric. Was it possible Kherathi had crossed the councilmen and those consequences had branched out to encompass the entire Delemor family?
These thoughts had spiraled Renton into a place of doubt over his contract. He’d made it clear that he would no longer hunt shadows, only Corrupt. And look what that distraction had cost. If only he’d held onto her in the library… Had he truly expected her to persuade her father out of madness?
Scanning the forest one last time, Renton lifted Tenah into his arms. He wouldn’t leave her among the broken remains of her life, and she deserved better than eternal rest in his native Boglands. Renton would deliver her body to the High Court, notify the isle leaders of the massacre, and demand reinforcements to hunt down her father and his army of monsters.
Chapter6
Tenah
Down into a well of satin darkness Tenah fell, tugged by an inescapable force. She flailed against it, seeking purchase in the chilled, viscous air. It stretched and loosened around her, unraveling like fabric, only to reform tighter around her body.
Mine, it seemed to profess.
Enraged, Tenah called upon her flames, but the heat that normally thrived at her core had withered away. It was as if her insides had been scraped clean, her gift of magic revoked.
She bit down on her lip just to see if she could taste blood. Her panic bloomed, constricting around her chest like vines when no blood or pain answered.
Whatever this was, she’d savagely crawl her way out.
