Golden Dawn Page 7

  "No, I am strigoi in that aspect." Smiling, he stepped closer. "I have never seen myself in a reflective surface." Herald stared into her eyes. Like twin jewels, they sparkled and shone, daring him to plunge further into their depths. Outlined in those blue-grey pools was the image of a young man in his prime. So, I'm not mistaken. Was that truly him? It must be. How could his image be reflected in her eyes? He'd no reflection in polished metal or still water. Was it linked to her inability to—how did she put it?—not sense any iniquity in him? "Although, I see myself clearly in your glorious eyes, my lady angel."

  Herald jerked back as she blushed. Where had that come from? He never spoke in such a manner to anyone. Not when people had been trying to twist what he said from as far back as he could remember. He'd learnt to speak carefully centuries ago. Did so without a thought towards it now. Was it possible that she, what with the passiveness of her magic, had the ability to draw such words from him? That couldn't be true. Surely she wouldn't care for fleeting murmurs of adoration. Not from someone who, in her eyes, lusted after blood and death above all else.

  Her sweet pink lips curving upwards, she carried on as if he hadn't spoken. "Just as you can only see what is before you, I see little of this world, only the valley below as I hover in the sky." Her eyes lit up as she nodded towards the window. "And it's nothing like that."

  Herald looked over his shoulder. The pale halo, now a delicate pink, had grown wider as they'd talked. The sun had not yet risen over the mountains—although the sky showed signs of breaking into the yellow and blue of day—and the tower interior still stood shrouded in its shadows. Nonetheless, his instincts screamed for him to seek safety upon seeing light on the windowsills. This time, he obeyed them and edged closer to the door.

  He watched Acarna track the dawn. Her eager face filled with wonder as the sunlight slid along the floor, creeping closer to the crystal base. Her dress forsook the dark grey of a storm cloud, suddenly brightening into the colour of aged lace. The paleness darkened her skin, bringing forth the soft hint of pink on her cheeks.

  Herald opened the door as softly as he could and stood in the deep shadows huddling on the steps beyond. A part of him wanted to stay, to wait for the crystal to be illuminated and watch her expression as light danced upon the quartz surface the way he'd glimpse it play on the land. The desire to hear her joy grew as the warmth caressed her for the first time. He'd touched sun-warmed stone many times before and imagined, to those able to walk outside in the daytime, that the caress of sunlight must be like standing near a roaring fire on a cool evening.

  Acarna knelt as the light touched the crystal, pressing her hands to the surface as if she greeted a dear friend. Did the angel who now shone at the moment know she illuminated another of her kind? Would they come to free Acarna?

  She turned to face him. "You should go before the sun gets any higher." Tears, hopefully not all of sorrow, streamed down her face. "And thank you, Herald. No one has ever been this kind."

  "It is my pleasure," he replied, before heeding her warning and closing the door.

  Standing in the darkness, he fought both for his night vision and to temper his heart. It had leapt again. This time, his heart pounded like it never had at the way she'd spoken his name. He felt more like the age he looked than he had in centuries.

  Leaning against the wall, uncaring of the rough stone scraping his back, he slid down the brickwork to sit upon the top step. "Fool." The word echoed dully in the silence. He knew it to be true. His brother would've had no qualms with calling him such, and Harbinger had dallied with many women. Most of them half-sisters. Whereas Herald...

  It was just the shock of meeting the only woman who wasn't family, enemy or his father's prospective meal. There was no other reason to feel this way about an angel, about... Acarna. Naming her only made it worse. "Acarna," he breathed. It rolled off the tongue far too well. He shouldn't have done it. He should've kept referring to her as the angel like the rest of his siblings.

  And how likely was it that she'd ever be more than spirit? They'd locked her away in the dark, refused a single glimpse of sunlight before this morning. Acarna—there was that word again, plaguing his mind—wouldn't share his feelings. Even if she did, she was still trapped in that crystal. She could take solid form, but what then? Death. No matter what, even if he kept her from the others, her mortal body would die. "I'm a fool." It was no more than he deserved.

  In his youth, his father had warned his children, cautioning them of how the heart could be a stubborn beast, caring little about what logic dictated. And if that affection came from outside the clan, then it was only deadlier. Yet, Herald had already learnt to be wary. He'd shunned all. Eleven centuries and he'd shut himself away.

  No doubt his father would say this fondness Herald found would subside. Eventually. But it was far easier to let his mind linger on the fresh memory of Acarna's joy. He could not shake it. Nor the way she seemed to glow brighter when she smiled. And the very sound of her speaking his name was the sweetest melody he'd ever heard.

  The thoughts played over and over in his mind. In the dark, protected by a heavy panel of aged wood and with nothing else to do, he drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter Ten

  The sun set. Half asleep, Herald moaned as his stomach grumbled. He'd no desire to disturb what, or who, played with his thoughts and give up the pleasant dreaming. He hadn't managed to sleep so soundly for decades. His dreams had been surprisingly merry. Full of all the frivolous memories he'd collected over the centuries.

  A louder complaint rumbled from his gut, forcing full conscious upon him.

  He opened his eyes and, feeling more refreshed than he had in years, stood to stretch out the kinks his improvised bed had put in. With his back pressed against the door, Herald cocked his head and listened for any sign of unexpected company. Standing in the darkness, his hand poised on the sword should he need it, only his heartbeat pounded in his ears. Such silence from both inside the tower and down the stairs was reassuring.

  Perhaps the fair-haired girl who'd last attempted in smashing the crystal had given up. He sorely hoped so. If his luck held out and tonight was peaceful, then he would risk a brief foray into the castle kitchen. For now, his stomach demanded nourishment and cared not if it came from the last contents of his waterskin. It would be cold and gelatinous if not fully congealed. And still in the room.

  He slapped his thigh and grumbled under his breath at his carelessness. How could he forget to take it with him? Had the act, somehow, been an unconsciously deliberate one? Herald paused in opening the door. Should he intrude so soon after sunset? The light would be well and truly gone, but she would still remember. If she was still there.

  Steeling himself for the possibility of discovering that the crystal and its prisoner had vanished or encountering a troop of angels waiting to destroy him, he opened the door. Acarna knelt against her crystalline cage, face pressed upon the clear surface. She slept, or at least a semblance of it, her chest slowly rising and falling.

  Herald crept over to where the waterskin lay to drink of its contents. The blood within had mostly gone into little quivering lumps. He tried not to gag on them as they slid down his throat. What he wouldn't give for something warm and fresh from the kitchen below. I cannot leave her. If his fair-haired sister returned whilst he was away... He would not tempt such a fate again.

  The dull prickling sensation of being watched slunk up his spine, lodging itself in his brain. He turned back towards the crystal. Acarna had not been as deeply asleep as he'd thought. She glowed, her eyes more blue than grey, silently tracking his every movement as he joined her on the floor.

  He leant a shoulder against the crystal, wriggling his backside along the floorboards in an effort to find an adequate measure of comfort. Despite having lost the sunlight at midday, warmth radiated from the quartz. Herald groaned as the heat soaked through his leathers and eased the stiffness in his joints. Not quite as good as a hot bath but no less wel
come.

  All he needed was for someone to massage the aches from his neck and shoulders. Too bad she cannot. He grinned at the mental image of Acarna administering such treatment to the likes of him. If the angel was capable of physical contact, he was certain she'd prefer to snap his neck than massage anything.

  "I trust you slept well?" she asked.

  The heat on his back flooded to his face. How deeply could this sensing of hers go? Did the power give her the ability to read a man's mind?

  "Y-yes." Not taking his eyes off the far wall, he took a half-hearted drink. "I thought I would have you to thank for that." He bowed his head. Too harsh. He twisted to face her. "And I do... uh... th-thank you, that is." His cheeks grew hotter still. Idiot!

  "I'm sorry I could do no more for you." She looked about her, the halo of radiance around her dimming. "It is difficult to reach beyond these walls." Her gaze settled on him, bringing back the sparkle her eyes had momentarily lost. "But I had to do something to repay what you did." She stared at the windows and, although the empty panes showed only stars, he saw the memory of daylight in her eyes. "It was beautiful, Herald. How I wish you could've seen it."

  He swallowed hard, unable to free the sudden lump in his throat. Turning from her, he looked to the walls in the hope of controlling his newfound emotion. It didn't work. The breathy way she spoke set a fire deep inside him. A burning hunger he'd never come across before. "I've seen many a sunrise." The overhangs built above the fortress's walkways offered adequate protection to keep the watcher in the shade. It had fast become his preferred place to view the changing face of day, often musing on what it would be like beyond the valley.

  "I don't suppose you ever saw me?" Her tone felt purposely meek and drew his gaze back to her. Head lowered in a pose of mock submission, she peered up at him through pale lashes. "No, you couldn't have. It would've been before your time here." Her fair brows rose to blend with the strands of hair draped across her face. Her head snapped up, hope flickering in her eyes. "Or were you watching that fateful day, nigh on seven centuries ago?"

  "I... I no longer recall every day of my life." Some he'd tried to forget to no avail. Back then, during the time his father had taken Acarna from the skies, Herald would've been consumed with the fortress. There'd been little time to watch the sky when the land rebelled against their presence. He most certainly couldn't recall having seen a golden dawn in the middle of winter. "Although I'm sure you were as wonderfully beautiful in the sky as you are sitting here."

  At first, the look she gave him was one of shock. Then, blue-grey eyes sparkled with gentle pleasure and a soft blush rose in her cheeks. Her lips curved into a tiny, delicate smile. There was a hint of uncertainty about her, like a maiden who'd never been wooed and didn't ever expect to be.

  Herald shrunk from the image, his breath taken in horror. What am I doing? Had she entangled his mind so much that he'd been unknowingly trying to court her? I haven't, have I? His heart shivered. He had. Through his own will or hers. To what purpose would such a thing serve? What could he possibly give her that the others had not?

  His gaze slid to the dark holes that were the windows. He'd meant to open the shutters as a sign of goodwill, to prove he did not intend to become just another watcher, but her protector. He was good at it, after all. The only thing he could do right. Had that desire also been falsified? He didn't want to think ill of her, but if it were so, then she'd a remarkable talent for manipulation. The joy he felt being near her seemed very real. And yet, as far as he could see, she'd no reason to keep him besotted. He'd done all he could beyond setting her free. And if I could do so, I would.

  "Is something wrong?" Her voice, although a little anxious, sounded as if a hundred harps sang all at once. It pulled at him. "Herald?"

  To hear his name spoken in such a fashion neatly shattered his thoughts. Perhaps I feel the way I do because it is real. An age had passed since he'd last met someone who could intrigue him so. Acarna was beautiful, more so than most of the other women here. The fact there lurked a subtle cunning behind those dazzling eyes only made them all the more alluring. He could accept it. My luck I'd fall for a woman locked in crystal.

  The thought fast soured his mood. He couldn't touch her. Perhaps it was for the best. He'd only ever been comfortable around a handful of women, and for the rest, he barely knew how to speak to them beyond orders, never mind... other things. He'd even heard rumours that some of his siblings believed he preferred men. Whilst untrue, it helped in keeping a good deal of his sisters away.

  "Nothing's wrong, I just—" He wet his lips, his throat suddenly dry despite the moisture on his tongue. "I know I haven't been here long." A few nights, now he thought on it. How could she ensnare his heart so quickly? "But I find myself already feeling a certain amount of... fondness for you."

  "Really?" Tender joy blossomed on her face as she spoke.

  Someone rapped their knuckles upon the door and her lovely expression faded to be replaced with annoyance.

  Herald sprang to his feet to scurry across the room, his cheeks now burning hot enough to have become sun-darkened. So easily did she draw such unfamiliar emotions from him, some wildly conflicting with the next and just as uncontrollable. Was this what his brother had meant when Harbinger spoke of women?

  Opening the door, he frowned at the woman standing before him. There was something strangely familiar about her face, but that didn't mean much when all of them shared the same father. Yet the light-brown hair and eyes only added to the feeling, for she looked no different than the hundreds of other sisters he'd seen, both those still living and the long since dead.

  Heeding his father's warning on just who he protected the angel from, Herald stepped out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. No point in subjecting Acarna to his sisters any more than was completely necessary. "What do you want?"

  The woman greeted him with a wide smile, the needle-sharp fangs bright in the light of the torch she bore. She held out a golden goblet. "A peace offering, my lord brother, in return for your forgiveness of my sister's behaviour." At his silence, she pressed the goblet closer. The inviting tinge of fresh blood tickled his nostrils. "And my way of apologising in having to disturb you in the first place. I am aware you dislike company."

  Herald rolled his eyes. Again, his preferences had been twisted. It wasn't that he minded company—in truth, he preferred it to solitude for it gave his mind something to do other than dwell on the past—but only if it wasn't some insipid sister trying to have her way with him. This time, the old rumours would serve him well. "Then be gone." Turning his back to her, he did his best to act as if she already obeyed. "I've drunk tonight." His stomach gently grumbled its own opinion on the matter.

  "But, my lord," she pressed, "the blood... it is still warm."

  Warm? He spun, taking up the goblet. True to her words, the bowl was tepid against his skin. The dark liquid it held glowed against the yellow metal, dancing from one side to the other as he lifted it to his lips. Warm. He drank slowly, intent on savouring the heat sliding down his throat. No lumps for him to gag on. Just the smooth, sweet flow of blood.

  Herald tipped the goblet up, his tongue snaking across the rim in search of the last drops. Fortress meals had a nasty reputation for being cold. Milking the goats and feeding often did not coincide with raids and attacks. New recruits got used to it. Eventually.

  His head swam as he went to hand back the goblet. His vision blurred something fierce. Shaking his head only helped to make it worse. Drugged blood. I should've known. Wasn't the first time his sisters had attempted to force him. He fumbled for his sword, silently cursing as his fingers refused the old command. What had she given him? This felt new. Some sort of poison? Did they seek to make him strigoi? He would not be any more malleable as one of the undead.

  His legs shook and finally gave. Herald fell to the floor, the inevitable descent down the stairs halted by a pair of hands. No, two pairs. Someone must have followed his brown-h
aired sister up. They would've lurked in the darkness beyond the torches where his night vision, temporarily ruined by the light, would no longer reach. How many waited on the stairs below?

  The crystal. He struggled to move. Nothing. He could feel his arms, could sense the pressure of their hands as they hauled him up to the top step and leant him against the wall. Yet when he sought to lift even a finger, he found himself unable. Curse that woman! What had she given him?

  His eyelids lowered. Herald fought to keep them open. Even this was denied to him. The darkness sealed off any hope of identifying who, and how many, had managed to sneak their way up the tower. But he could hear. They hadn't stolen that from him. The sound of their movements reached him. Muffled, but clear enough.

  "To business, sisters." The words came faintly. He still recognised the voice. Had heard it recently. If he could just recall her face. Why did they all have to look so much alike?

  "What of our brother?" Another familiar voice. Different again from the other two. Was that all? Just three? He could take three. If he could just regain command of himself again.

  "Just leave him to his dreams," his brown-haired sister replied. "He won't be going anywhere."

  He could feel the truth in her words. Try as he might, his consciousness continued to slip from his grasp along with the rest of his body. The crystal. No matter how hard he clung, he couldn't stop it fading away. Acarna. She needed h—

  Chapter Eleven

  He lay in a bed. Although he'd no memory of how he'd gotten there, that shred of knowledge made his surrounding all the more ominous. Some small piece of him knew this for a dream and no dream he'd ever had involving beds was good.

  Yet, this one felt different. Lighter. For a start, there were no women trying to rip him to shreds. That had to count for something. Just him lying alone in a room barely large enough to hold the bed. No sound but his own breathing. Quite... peaceful. Was this a dream? He stretched out, delighting in the soft sheets cocooning him. Far better quality than the bedding back at the fortress. Dream or not, he could get used to this.