The Onyx Vial (Shadows of The Nine Book 1) (3 page)

Without regard for his deflated lungs, he rolled over, snatching the pages off the ground, shaking away the clinging droplets.

“What is all that?” Tehya asked, as he blew on one of the pages, trying to dry the ink, before he placed them gently inside his bag, the strap twisted uncomfortably tight around his wrist.

Hunter tensed. “Family stuff,” he answered, hating himself for how rude he sounded, but unwilling to say more—even to her.

“Looks old,” Ariana noted.

“Um, yeah. It is.” And essential, according to his grandpa, to finding out the truth about his parents.

Suspicion dripped off her words. “Looks like Elder Script.”

That again
. He shrugged. “Yep.” Who cared what it was, so long as his grandpa's contact in Ruekridge could read it.

She was silent for a moment, her eyes on the bag. “You ought to be nicer,” she muttered, extending her hand, “after what we just did for you.”

He frowned, clasping her steady hand. “What was it you did for me, exactly?”

A bitter laugh escaped her as she yanked him to his feet. “We kept that pretty face of yours from melting off your thick skull.”

“Uh… what?”

She let go of his hand, studied the dirt he’d transferred onto her, then wiped it off on her—were those shorts? It was freezing out here.

“Wasn’t it obvious?” Tehya said, tilting her head to the sky and inhaling deeply, a soft smile spreading over her lips.

He sniffed. The scent of saltwater clung to the air. It took him a moment, but then he recalled the salty taste in his mouth when the downpour hit. He gaped. “That was
you
? With the seawater—the rain?”

"Both of us," Ariana corrected.

"Mostly her. I just held the trees in place." She loosed a breathy, almost giddy laugh, as though she was surprised by this.

Ariana just looked pleased with herself. "I did pull off something pretty brilliant back there."

So Ariana was Mervais, then. And Tehya an Eerden like himself. No wonder he was drawn more to Tehya. Ariana was too cocky.

But Tehya didn’t seem to mind—or even notice. She beamed, clearly proud of her friend. Of course, Ariana had reason for being cocky at the moment.
He
hadn’t tried using
his
magic, and from what his grandpa had told him, controlling an element you weren’t in physical contact with took a serious amount of practice.

But cocky rarely equaled careful. “How’d you find me?”

Ariana
deadpanned. “You aren’t exactly stealthy,” she said, a smirk creeping onto her lips. “We just followed the crashing sounds.”

Well, he’d never had cause to run silently before. “But, what about the—”

“Huntsmen?” she finished for him

“Only two of them could get through the gaps in the trees,” Tehya explained as he nodded. “But they went after me.”

Hunter felt himself pale. “You? Why?”

“
Someone
had to distract them while you made your getaway.”

“But what if they’d caught you?” he asked, noting and hating the wild panic that rose in his heart at the thought.

She shrugged. “I’m very quick.”

“And they were very distracted,” Ariana added.

The answer didn’t make him feel much better. The whole point of him running the direction he had was to keep the danger as far from them both as possible, and still he’d managed to put them in harm’s way. “I’m sorry,” he offered weakly.

“You should be,” Ariana said, as Tehya answered, "It's fine. I drew them off and doubled black. They're headed the wrong direction looking for us."

"For now," Ariana added.

Hunter tensed. She was right, of course. Even if they
had
successfully lost the Huntsmen, it was only temporary. His first priority at all times was to stay hidden.
Great work so far
, he thought. The Fyrennians had seen him now, and they thought he was the—what, runaway?—son of Falken Fyrenn. Not something easily forgotten. Word would spread about him. He needed to get to Ruekridge. Fast.

“Come on, Tay. Let’s go.” Ariana turned away, her dark hair swirling around her.

“Wait—”

She eyed him over her shoulder.

“Where are you going?”

"Home," Tehya answered, which earned her a reproachful stare from Ariana.

“Mind if I tag along?” he asked, as nonchalantly as he could manage.

Tehya smiled, open and genuine.

"Just into the town with you, obviously," he added quickly, loosing an awkward laugh. "Not to your house."

"The house is probably best, actually," Tehya said.

Ariana grabbed Tehya's arm, her eyes on him.
“Wait a moment. That depends."

“On what?” he asked, weary.

“Whether we can trust you.”

Hunter furrowed his brow.

“How is he going to prove that to us here, Ariana?” Tehya said, voicing his very concern.

There was an eagerness in Ariana's eyes now. He didn’t like it. “Hand over your bag," she said.

Hunter gripped the bag tighter. He couldn’t do that. Absolutely not. And yet…if he was to have any chance of staying out of danger, he needed help. He needed to cooperate. But his
bag
? The
pages
? He’d already lost one. He couldn’t afford to lose the rest. “I… can’t,” he regretted to say.

Ariana arched her brows. “If you want our help, I don't think you have another choice.”

He set his jaw.

“Ariana,” Tehya interjected. “Is that really necessary?”

Ariana didn’t respond and didn’t take her eyes off him. She held his gaze until he shifted uncomfortably, then she sighed. “I don’t want to keep it. But it’s clearly important to you. So, let’s call it a show of faith,” she reasoned. “You’re a danger to us.”

“I’m—”

She held up her hand. “You also clearly don’t understand what is and isn’t safe around here. You’ve put yourself in danger twice and us in danger once, walking into that pack of wolves. And now that the Huntsmen think you’re… impersonating the prince? I don’t expect they’ll let that go.”

She had a point.

“Even if you’re trustworthy—and I’m not convinced you are, given the lies you’ve told and the—”

“What lies?” Tehya asked.

“—and the information you’ve omitted,” Ariana finished, before turning to her. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Hunter bristled. What could Ariana possibly have deduced in so short a time?

Tehya pursed her lips in a little frown. “Not to me.” She turned her vibrant green eyes on Hunter, something like hurt in her expression. “
Are
you lying to us?”

He wasn’t sure if it was the look on her face or her obviously trusting nature, but he wanted to reassure her, to explain that he was scared and lost and overwhelmed, to tell her everything that had happened to him in the last twenty-four hours so she would understand.

He wanted to trust them—they’d saved him, after all—but he had already made so many mistakes, he couldn’t make any more. What if he was wrong? What if—
what if, what if? It doesn’t matter
, a little voice in his head interjected. He had to trust someone at some point. Why not the girls who had just saved his life? The girls who clearly did not want anything to do with the Huntsmen but to be far, far away from them. “Not… intentionally,” he admitted. “Well, I mean, yes, it’s intentional. But not for the reason you probably think.”

“No? What reason, then?” Ariana prompted.

Before he could respond, a soft chiming drifted through the trees.

The girls locked eyes, their faces suddenly tight with concern.

“We need to go,” Tehya said, her voice low.

Ariana cast her glance back to him, brows narrowed. For a moment, she just stared at him. He shifted his weight between his feet. Finally, she sighed through flared nostrils and said, “Fine. We'll discuss this on the way.” She turned on her heel and stalked toward the trees.

Chapter 3

Killian closed the trapdoor in unison with the screeching of a firework, disguising any sound the hinges might have made, then carefully re-covered the door with the bedding in the empty stable. The party still raged on, heedless of the looming dawn. Only a night had passed. And yet, so much had happened, it felt like weeks. He dug for the necklace in his pocket. His fingers retracted the moment they grazed the sticky, blood-coated metal, the image of his mother's lifeless eyes knifing into his mind.

He willed the memory—and the feelings—away. He didn't have time for them.

Thick, muffled footsteps alerted him to the presence of a guard. He stood, pressing his back against the unused stable door.

The footsteps slowed.

He held his breath.

The footsteps stopped.

Killian's heart climbed up his throat. The trapdoor was part of a secret tunnel system even his father didn't know about—he was fairly certain. Unless he gave the guard cause to look, the man should pass right by the stable without a second thought. Had he been wrong? Did his father know about the tunnels?

The footsteps resumed.

He didn't move until the sound grew distant. Then he let his breath ease slowly out of his lungs and twisted to peer through the slats.

The lights of the celebration threw everything in the wide space between the stables into sharp relief. The fireworks whistled, paused, then cracked and crackled. Flashes of color erupted and waves of light coursed through the barn, giving him a clear view of everything he'd face beyond the stable door, including the guard's face.

His wide, flat nose was unmistakeable. Magnus—his father's fifth in command. It certainly hadn't taken long for his father to maneuver against him.

He watched Magnus patrol the far side of the barn, then shifted his focus to the winged horse—the garnet-red Stoalvenger his father had gifted him at the start of his training—tethered to a pole in the center of the barn floor.

“Fenix,” he breathed, heat rising to his skin.

The Stoalvenger pressed her black wings against her body, turning her sharp, angular face to meet Killian's gaze with fierce, scarlet eyes. She was bait.

Flames kindled in his palms. He itched to loose them. Instead, he curled his hands into fists and snuffed them out. Lighting the barn on fire would do him no good. Here, fire scared no one. It would only signal the whereabouts of a desperate, foolish boy—which he was not.

He steadied himself, lifting a foot and running a hand over the sole of his boot. He formed a cushion of air around it, then repeated with the other. A quick, soundless shuffle of his feet over the hay assured him they were silenced properly.

He waited until Magnus turned his back, then snuck through the door and darted toward Fenix. He didn't bother with the knot in the thick, aging rope; just grabbed it with both hands and channeled heat into it. The over-dry cords smoldered between his palms, then pulled apart. He dropped the new ends, ashes falling through his fingers.

An angry shout sounded behind him.

He jerked his head up. Magnus thundered toward him, arm outstretched, palm open. Killian shook his head and launched himself onto Fenix's back, maneuvering around the wings with precision.
Why did the guard even try
? “Get out of the way,” he warned.

But Magnus advanced.

The guard was only a stride away when Fenix reared.

Through the pop and fizz of the fireworks, Killian heard the dull, ominous thud of a hoof striking a chest, and Magnus's sharp, high-pitched grunt.

Then
Fenix charged forward, and they were out, taking to the air.

Killian didn't need to look back. Magnus wouldn't be alerting anyone. Not until someone found his body.

The smell of metal, soot, and sweat clung to every stone in the compound. The raucous sounds of celebration floated up to meet the smoke that settled on the red shale rooftops. In the distance, the fireworks reached their peak, shooting skyward, erupting into brilliant shapes and patterns in quick succession. Sparks rained through the spidery clouds of smoke that hid the first shades of dawn bleeding into the edges of the sky.

Perfect conditions for escape.