Page 1 of Heir of Broken Souls

Chapter1

Delilah

“He’s going to reward us well for her, brother,” a deep, gravelly voice hisses as I begin to stir.

My right finger twitches, only for pain to barrel down the length of my arm.

Something is wrapped around my wrists so tightly the blood has stopped flowing to them. A quick flinch of my toes confirms my legs are bound, too.

I try to open my eyes but the moment I do, the golden hue of a fire burns them, sending stars through my eyelids until I squeeze them shut again. Stars seem to occupy my mind as well because…

Everything is a blur.

The hissing voice across from me is a blur.

How I ended up restrained is a blur.

And why I can feel thick liquid dripping down the back of my head isalla blur.

“I wish I could tear her limb from limb,” another deep voice growls, the acid in its words making my body lock up. “Make her pay for what she did to our sister.”

Hounds.

The word slams through my mind, flying through the misty fog. Suddenly, my magic flares within my chest, writhing and stirring as it rises as quick as a snake. Clenching my teeth, it takes everything in me to shove my magic away and down.

If it could curse at me, it would do just that, but the hounds can’t know I’m awake. Not yet, especially as they whisper to one another under their breaths.

Idiotic fools.

Don’t they know Fae have the best hearing in all of Aloriah?

“Why is he taking so long?” the second voice grumbles again. “We’ve been hunting her day and night for two months, and once we have her, he doesn’t arrive?”

“You know he’s busy.”

A derisive snort rings throughout the space. “Busy pissing on her precious little treehouse.” The sound of a slithering tongue makes my stomach roil. “I don’t understand why he occupies such a wasteless space.”

“Everything he does is to torment her.” I can hear the smile in its voice as it drawls, “I can’t say I blame him.”

The treehouse?

Are they talking about…

Memories assault me, one after the other, as everything my body has been subjected to surfaces. The moment I foolishly separated from Knox as we were searching the grounds of the abandoned library, hoping to find something after searching it countless other times to no avail.

It was for that very reason I let my guard down, despite all that took place there two months ago. It was why I was shocked when a doorway suddenly appeared before me, one filled with a crimson hue—the same crimson that is no doubt sliding down the back of my head from the blow they gave me before they sank their talons into my fighting leathers and pulled me through.

For two months, warriors and Fae alike have adorned similar leathers, sliding them on like a second skin day in and day out as they pray for protection—as they pray to live another day.

The leathers have never offered such a thing.

Knox is probably beside himself. Except the bridge between our minds is utterly quiet.

I wish I could say this is the first time they’ve captured me. Aloriah, I fear, has seen more death in the passing weeks than in all its lifetime. All because of a power-hungry man named Peter.

These pesky hounds have been tracking me constantly, forcing Knox to place spells and shields around my scent, although the prick of the branch that scratched my neck as I entered the dark, forgotten library no doubt broke through the spell.

Gods, how foolish of me.