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Lyric and I drew our blades—our real ones—simultaneously. Mine was the claymore my father died holding. Rarely was it ever located anywhere other than the sheath upon my back. Lyric’s were her two katanas she’d lovingly, if not a bit disturbingly, named Phobos and Deimos.
I scanned the perimeter of the courtyard, sensing nothing amiss. When I pushed out my magic, I felt for unfamiliar souls. Any out of place, or worse, those that were tainted, would be easy to detect. I felt nothing.
“Are you sensing anything?” I asked.
“No,” he replied, taking a quick step towards Lyric.
She spun away from him gracefully in a move that would make the masters weep, swollen belly and all. “You arenotpicking me up, Big Guy.”
“Fine, then hurry your ass up to our chambers.”
Their quarters were the safest place to be because so many spells and wards had been placed around them.
“No way.”
“Lyric, my love, my very reason for existing, please take our child to safety and I promise to send for you the second I know what’s going on.”
“That’s not playing fair,” she whined, sheathing her katanas. “But you said please and I know how much it hurts you to do that.”
Standing on her tiptoes, she brushed his lips with her own then cupped him intimately, hard enough he flinched. “However, if you continue using my reproductive parts as a way to control me, I’ll be forced to do the same. Only I’ll use the dagger you gave me.”
Draven’s eyes twinkled. “I look forward to it, Angel. Now go,” he ordered, swatting her ass as she jogged off.
We circled back-to-back, searching, waiting. All of 30 seconds had passed since the first alarm sounded. It reminded me of Earth Realm’s fire truck sirens.
I could feel members of the Shadow Army moving around outside the outer walls, forming a protective circle around all of Embour. Many others would be hidden out of sight. No one but the Council was allowed in the courtyard without invitation, so Draven and I remained alone.
“Your relationship with your mate is rather disturbing,” I voiced, not looking at him.
“Says the male whose mate tried to kill him in a dream.”
“Touché. Though, you might be right. She could be the bad omen and not my mate.”
“Could be.”
“I don’t like this,” I said. The timing was too coincidental. “What do you think is happening?”
“No clue. None of the warriors nearby know what’s going on.”
They also didn’t know their Shadow Lord could pull thoughts from their skulls. It was a secret he’d guarded all his life. Only his Council knew of this talent. As useful as it could sometimes be, I had no desire to have Draven’s mind reading abilities.
A familiar soul flew into the courtyard in shadow form. Phalen’s body fluidly transformed out of the phantasmic shape that gave our caste of demons its name. He solidified to my right, between us and the wall. His typical jovial countenance was nowhere to be found.
“Tell me,” Draven commanded.
“Huge fog bank on the river, moving fast.”
I looked to the sky. “It’s sunny and clear.”
“It’s not real fog. There’s a lot of power within it. I sent two scouts in. They didn’t come out.”
Without warning, Draven ghosted and took off towards the docks. I shifted into shadow form, as well, and followed behind with Phalen. We flew beyond the fortress walls and down the worn path. Flashbacks from the dreamworldpoked at my mind. The lack of screams upon the wind did nothing to lessen my disquiet.
The Shadow Lord was already standing at the edge of the empty dock when Phalen and I shifted back. Goosebumps broke out across my skin. We were standing in the same spot I’d been when I dove in to save the female. I glanced at Draven the same time he glanced at me.
“Where is the fishing boat that was docked here earlier?” Draven inquired.
“I sent it downstream hours ago.” I’d had a niggling suspicion I would need to keep the dock clear. I’d assumed it was my paranoia but acted on it anyway.
