Page 6 of A Kingdom of Wild and Power
A dull ache spread through her chest. ‘So I should leave? As a coward?’
‘No, Melinoe,’ he said softly. ‘As one clever enough to outwit them.’
‘I will not run, Thanatos.’
He reached out and laid his hand upon her stomach. Their eyes locked, and though the gesture ought to have been strange, intimate to the point of discomfort, it was not. It felt inevitable.
‘We never had one of our own,’ he whispered, his gaze fixed upon the gentle curve of her belly. ‘You were always too afraid of becoming her, of becoming your mother, and abandoning your child.’
Mal stepped back, slipping from his touch, her chest tightening with a sharp ache.
‘You had to forget, Melinoe,’ he said, a ghost of a smile curving his lips, though it never reached the fathomless dark of his eyes. ‘It was the only way you could truly live. But I will not let you endanger either yourself or the child. Leave.Flee to some distant place where their reach cannot find you, and then hide the child well.’
Mal’s reply died on her lips as a sudden pull made her glance over her shoulder. Ash stood framed in the doorway, clad in wyverian garb that caught and magnified the light, gilding his golden skin and fair hair until he seemed more radiant still. The likeness between the two men struck her like a blow: mirror images, yet one born of sunlit brilliance, the other of endless night.
Ash said nothing, only inclined his head. And in that silent gesture, Mal understood that they must heed Thanatos’ warning.
‘When the child is hidden,’ Thanatos said softly, ‘return to me. I shall be waiting. Until then, I will draw their attention elsewhere.’
Before Mal could shape a word, Thanatos turned sharply on his heel. The ground shuddered, tearing open with a roar, and tendrils of shadow surged forth, coiling about him. They dragged him down into the abyss, yet in the final instant, he twisted, gifting her a smile and a mischievous wink before the darkness swallowed him whole.
…
Mal swept into her chambers and drifted towards one of the many grey columns flanking the glassless windows. Beyond them stretched a world that reminded her too keenly of the Underworld—ashen skies, jagged mountains, shadows that clung like a shroud. She leaned against the cold stone, both hands resting protectively upon her stomach.
A gentle touch stole her breath: a hand brushing a dark strand of hair from her shoulder, followed by the softest kiss pressed to the curve of her neck.
‘Wyverians do not run,’ she muttered, eyes fixed on the wyverns wheeling above the mountains. ‘We fight.’
Ash’s lips lingered at her throat in answer.
‘Is this truly the path we must walk to keep her safe?’ she asked, turning to face him at last. Her voice trembled with steel and sorrow. ‘I will not become my mother.’
Ash inclined his head, but in the burnished depths of his golden eyes she glimpsed something fleeting, something she did not like.
‘If we run, if we hide… will she be safe?’
He nodded once more.
‘And will we—’ Mal’s breath hitched, spiralling into panic, until Ash cupped her face between his hands and compelled her to meet his gaze. In that instant her breathing eased, calmed by the quiet fire in his voice.
‘You and m-me,’ he whispered, stumbling over the words, ‘and her.’
Mal closed her eyes and let her forehead fall against his.
‘Where must we go?’
‘To your uncle,’ he said.
Her brow furrowed. ‘My uncle Morwen?’
‘No,’ Ash replied softly. ‘The other one.’
Her purple eyes widened. ‘Morthos? He was banished when I was still a child. No one knows where he dwells.’
A faint smile touched Ash’s lips. ‘But I do.’
‘And can we trust him? My father cast him out for a reason.’
