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  Let’s dream together and disappear into a fantasy world

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  Prologue

  Hawkeye

  The throne room rang with fury. King Edmund’s voice lashed out like a whip, echoing from the vaulted arches above.

  “And you think I will spare your life? You kidnapped my child!”

  His words struck harder than any blade. I straightened, my heart beating steady though my throat ran dry.

  “My king, we had no choice,” I said, forcing my voice into calmness. The weight of William’s absence burned me inside. It was wrong what we did. But this was the only way to convince the king.

  “Nonsense!” Edmund surged forward in his seat, the gold of his crown glinting in the candle light from the chandelier. “You could have come to me, spoken to me…”

  “Could we?” Came the Basilisk’s hiss beside me, soft yet cutting. He stood cloaked in shadow, his features hidden in the hood of his cloak. “Or would you have ordered your guards to cut us down the moment we set foot in these halls? The infamous leaders of the Black Hawks do not walk into snares.” His words dripped like poison. “We needed leverage.”

  “Leverage?!” Edmund’s roar shook the hall. “He’s a child!”

  “And you,” the Basilisk the words like knives, “sit upon a throne while an army of magi turned bitter and dark, and demons roam your streets. Those magi blame you for the Fiend’s return, for his demons clawing their way back into this world. And are they wrong?”

  The king faltered. For the first time his shoulders sagged, his defiance cracking beneath the weight of truth. He sank into his throne as though its stone pressed heavy upon his soul, his voice a hoarse whisper.

  “I did not summon the demons. I swear it… I did not…” his hands covered his face. “What do I do?”

  The silence hung sharp as a drawn bowstring. I found my voice. “You might begin,” I said carefully, “by speaking with your brother. Orion is camped beyond your gates. He has fought the demons back inland, and though he carries his anger like a sword, he is a reasonable man.”

  The king’s gaze snapped up, fire flickering back into his eyes. “I am open to such a conversation, if you return my son.”

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  I felt the Basilisk’s shadow lean forward, heard the serpentine hiss beneath his hood. “You shall have him unharmed…. Once your brother sets foot within these halls.”

  And so it was sealed.

  Within the hour, the gates of Westray groaned open, letting the Necromancers with their leader inside the city walls. I walked into the throne room carrying little William in my arms. The boy squealed happily when he caught sight of his mother, wriggling like a little bird longing for flight. Her cry broke from her chest as she rushed to him, tears gleaming, arms outstretched. My heart tightened. We had stolen a child. No amount of reason could wash away that cruelty.

  I surrendered him carefully, almost reverently. The queen clutched him to her breast, whispering words only a mother could weave. I turned away, unable to watch her joy without feeling its sting. The Basilisk, as ever, stood untouched, his cloak unshifting, his soul unmoved by the event.

  We were nearly free of the hall when a voice, low and steady yet edged with steel, halted us. “Stay.”

  Orion’s words rolled like the beginnings of a thunderstorm, and every ear bent toward him. “We need all the blades and wits we can muster if we are to banish the Fiend’s spawn.” His eyes burned as he fixed them upon his younger brother.

  Two men, bound by blood yet set apart like night and dawn. Edmund towered, broad and golden-haired, a soldier carved of sunlight. Orion, slighter with auburn-hair and eyes sharp with suspicion, looked his mirror in the shadows.

  “So, brother,” Orion spat the word like venom, “shall we at last speak of why you bartered with the Fiend?”

  Edmund’s sneer was brittle. “Your face tells me you think you already know the answer.”

  A sigh escaped me. I pinched the bridge of my nose, the weight of weariness pressing in. I remembered Barnabas storming from these very halls, cursing the king’s greed, his voice echoing like a curse through the streets. And damn me, but I had agreed. Edmund had bled his people dry under the guise of their protection, raised taxes, hunted magi, driven innocents into the shadows. Fear? Jealousy? Both, perhaps. He knew his brother’s power would bend these halls with a single word if he so wished.

  I knew the feeling of an elder brother being more skilled with the magical art than yourself. It was one of the reasons I chose a darker path.

  “I think you struck a bargain to rid yourself of every magi in your realm,” Orion said, his voice pulling me from my own thoughts. His eyes glimmered like steel in firelight.

  Edmund scoffed, his crown tilting as he lifted his chin. “How dare you? I am not our father.”

  Orion coughed, laughter bitter in his throat. “Says the man who carries his father’s war like a torch.”

  The chamber crackled with fury. Guards bristled, their hands twitching on hilts. Counsellors raised their voices, shouting, accusing, arguing. Words crashed against each other like storm waves. I muttered to the Basilisk, “Children, the both of them.” He inclined his head, silent agreement flickering like shadow.

  Then…

  A single sound tore the hall asunder. A loud crack.

  The Basilisk’s blade struck the council table, cleaving silence from chaos.

  “I care not who summoned the demons,” his voice slithered low, yet it filled the chamber, chilling every heart. “I care not for your pride, nor your poisoned grudges. Even now, my Hawks die in your city, buying you all another breath as they battle the demons crawling from the Underworld.” His fingers lashed toward Edmund. “So swallow your pride. All of you. And think of the living.”

  Silence thickened, trembling, until a new voice cut through it; soft, feminine, steady as iron.

  “That is a man who knows how to lead.”

  The queen stood at the doors after bringing William to his room, her gaze sharp as any blade as she turned it on her husband. Arms crossed, she looked at Edmund as if judging him and finding him a lesser man than before. The king sighed, shoulders slumping beneath her stare. A single word fell from his lips, heavy with resignation.

  “… Fine.”

  I chuckled. The power a woman can have over her lover never ceases to amaze me. At last, the shouting ceased, and the council bent toward something like unity. A plan could now be forged. If only pride and greed would allow it.