CHAPTER ONE
VESPER
The dead boy stood in the courtyard, struggling to stay upright.
He looked exactly how I remembered him, and, at the same time, completely different. The eyes I remembered as sparkling amethysts were now lifeless purple voids. His black curls were matted knots, plastered against his skull. Crusts of mud clung to his clothes and something had gnawed away part of his sleeve. Not unexpected, considering he’d been dead and buried for three months. But it was his throat that I could barely tear my eyes away from. I stared, hypnotised, at the enormous, white scar running across it. Deep and clean.
His balance was clearly off and if it weren’t for the other boy, holding him up, he would have fallen.
“I don’t know what witchcraft this is,” I said, my words muffled by the sound of my drumming heart. “But I’ll give you one minute to leave before I send an arrow through your neck.” To emphasise my words, I drew my bow tighter, feeling the cord strain under my fingertips. “Prince Hunter is dead and whatever trick you’re trying to play on me, it won’t work.”
The blond boy chuckled, deep and throaty. “Quite the little wildcat.”
“Say the word and I end them, Ma’am.” Next to me, my right-hand woman, Symphony, spoke out the corner of her mouth. Her bow was taut, arrow ready to fly.
I’d tried so hard to get her out the habit of calling me ‘Ma’am’ and into the habit of calling me by my name. Something the blond-haired boy was having no trouble doing.
“Vesper, Vesper, Vesper.” He sounded almost bored. I turned my gaze to him. It was hard to tell if he was Bland or Radien. There was nothing unusual about him, but, at the same time, he looked like no one else I’d ever seen. Raindrops speckled his blond hair and his eyes were the colour of a winter sky. The coldness of his gaze crept over me, like an arrogant trespasser. He stood tall, almost as tall as Hunter, but, where Hunter was muscular and powerful, this boy was lithe and wiry. There was something sinuous about him, almost snake-like. Every inch of me itched to look away, to go back inside the castle and bolt the door behind me and never have to see this boy ever again. He smiled at me still, the kind of look that said he knew something I didn’t. “Let us in. It’s Prince Hunter and I can prove it.” He nudged Hunter with his elbow. “Do your stuff.”
Shakily, Hunter stretched out a hand. I felt the strangest sensation, as if his fingers were sifting through my soul, my lifeforce. He reached out to me, reeling my strength away from me, back to him. A delicious weakness crept over me, starting at my toes, sending a tingling up my body. A beautiful exhaustion, one that made me want to melt into it, to let myself surrender to the boy that was pulling the threads of my soul apart without even touching me. My legs buckled and the breath caught in my lungs. The bow and arrow fell from my shaking fingers, clattering on the castle courtyard.
“Release her!” snarled Symphony, glaring at the blond boy. “Or this arrow goes right through your heart.”
“That’s enough.” The blond boy shot out his hand. “Don’t take too much of her strength.”
Instantly, I felt Hunter’s hold on me vanish and I sucked a gasping breath into my lungs, drinking in the air as if I had been drowning.
I stood, frozen, looking at the two boys. One blond and tall and with an unsettling presence to him. One dark-haired and lost and back from the dead.
The Radiens have all manner of powers and abilities. But Hunter was the only one I ever knew who could kill a person without ever touching them. Who could reach inside another person and siphon away their energy to feed his own. Already, he was looking brighter and stronger, while I barely had the strength to reach for my knife.
“I understand you must have questions,” the blond boy said.
“How perceptive of you,” I choked out.
A boy I used to know, a boy who had died twice before, stood in front of me very much alive.
Damn right, I had questions.
Reluctantly, I dragged open the castle door. “You’d better come in.”
*
I brought them into the banquet hall and asked one of the maids to bring us something to drink. The stronger, the better. My fingers knotted themselves together behind my back. I’d sent Symphony to find Pep, but what was taking so long? I would feel better if Pep was here with me.
The blond boy swaggered around the room, looking at the portraits on the walls. Hunter stood stiffly near the door, his eyes glassy. I wanted him to sit down. No, I wanted him to stroll around like he owned the place, with that effortless confidence he used to have. Why was he acting like he was a guest in the place he’d grown up?
“You’ve really made the place your own, I see,” observed the blond boy.
I shrugged. Dunvegan Castle was one of the few castles on Skye that had somehow survived the Changing. Hundreds of years later, it remained as impressive as it always had been – with its oblong shape and pale walls. An ancient relative of Hunter’s had moved in at some point after the Changing and his family had been ruling from there ever since.
The banquet hall door flew open and Hunter’s sister, Pep, burst in. Pep was concentrated energy in human form. I’d never met anyone so full of life and defiance and determination. Once we’d stopped trying to kill each other, we actually got on quite well. Pep had clearly just got out of bed, if her tousled blonde hair was anything to go by. Her eyes narrowed when she saw the blond boy. “Who the hell are you?” she demanded.
I opened my mouth to speak, to try and figure out how to tell her that her brother was back from the dead, but the blond boy cut me off. “I’m sorry, how rude of me.” He crossed the room in two strides and extended his hand to Pep. “The name’s Viking.”
“Did your parents hate you?” asked Pep, pulling her hand away. “Or did they just give you that name because they wanted you to be bullied?”
Viking ignored her. “And, of course, your brother needs no introduction…” He gestured at Hunter.
I watched the colour drain from Pep’s face. “Hunter?”
Hunter’s blank expression didn’t change, not even at the sight of his little sister, who I was pretty sure he loved more than anyone else in the world. That was when I knew that, whoever this boy was, he wasn’t the Hunter I remembered. And maybe he never would be.
Viking pulled out a chair and sat down, plucking a piece of fruit from the bowl and sinking his teeth into it. “Ask your questions.”
Pep didn’t need to be asked twice. “Question Number One. How the hell is my dead brother standing in my banquet hall? What kind of sick joke is this?”
“Firstly, that was two questions.” Viking spat a pip onto the floor. “Secondly, your brother, as you may know, has the Gift of Death.”
I frowned. “Gift of Death?”
Viking nodded. “You know. His ability to kill, the way he does. Pretty impressive, I must admit. Although it pales in comparison with my gift.” A smirk played on his lips. “I have the Gift of Life.”
Pep dragged a hand through her hair. “Is any of this making sense to you, Vesper?” I shook my head. “Good, it’s not just me then. Vagrant or Vagabond or whatever your name is, would you mind terribly making some sense? And do it quickly because I’m not sure how much longer I can resist the temptation to stab you.”
Viking didn’t seem the slightest bit concerned by Pep’s murderous threats. He leaned back in his chair and looked at us out of hooded grey eyes. “It’s really quite simple. I brought your brother back from the dead using my gift. You’re very welcome.”
“And why would you do that?” I couldn’t stop the sharpness from leaking into my voice. “Out of the goodness of your heart?”
Viking smiled at me, the sight making the hairs on the back of my neck rise. “Well, now you mention it, Wildcat, I’d be grateful for a place to stay. And there seems to be plenty room in this big old castle.”
“It’s Vesper.” I folded my arms. “And like hell you’re staying here.”
Pep nodded furiously. “We don’t know anything about you.”
Viking waved his hands airily. “Ask me anything. I’m an open book, my dear.”
“I’m not your dear…” began Pep.
“Why did you bring Hunter back?” I asked, cutting her off. “Out of all the people who’ve ever died, why him?”
Viking’s lips twisted in another grin. “Now, for full transparency, I can’t just go around resurrecting corpses all over the place. There are conditions. My gift only works on the freshly dead.”
A dull throbbing coursed through my head. “But Dram buried him.”
“And I sensed him.” For the first time, Viking’s eyes met mine. They were as deep and treacherous as surf-tipped ocean waves. “His spirit hadn’t yet left his body. A very fresh kill indeed. If it had been anyone else, I would have left him there. But I could feel he had the matching gift to mine.”
“Why is he acting so strangely?” burst out Pep, sounding on the verge of tears, her eyes locked on her brother. “He hasn’t even hugged me. Hasn’t tried to mess with my hair or tweak my nose or any of those stupid things he always did…” Her voice cracked slightly and I wanted to take her hand, to reassure her that everything was alright, but I didn’t trust myself to speak.
“What are you asking?” Viking said, sounding almost amused at Pep’s distress.
Pep savagely swiped at her eyes. “I’m asking what the hell you did to my brother because that’s not how he usually is.”
“Bringing people back from the dead isn’t as easy as snapping your fingers you know, Pepper.” Viking shook his finger at her, as if she was a little girl caught eating her dessert before dinner. “Hunter is back. In all his Radien glory. Exactly as you knew him. He’s the same person. He just… can’t remember any of you.”
I groaned. We’d been here before, the last time Hunter was brought back from the dead. All the time we’d spent together, all the books we’d read together, all the life and death situations we’d been in, all those moments existed only for me. Hunter would never remember how he kissed me on the rocks on Foulhaven Island. He wouldn’t remember that his mother was the evil Queen Creyta, a Radien who had vowed to destroy all the Blands on the island, and he definitely wouldn’t remember that I’d been forced to kill him to weaken his mother and overthrow her. He wouldn’t remember the last time we’d brought him back to life, or that we’d been falling in love.
Or maybe we hadn’t been. We’d never actually said it in so many words and I hadn’t liked to overwhelm him after his first resurrection and, even if I had mentioned it, what right-minded boy would want to be in a relationship with the girl who had murdered him so that she could kill his mother?
My thoughts crowded in on me, making me feel dizzy. I closed my eyes, wanting to block everything out. That’s when I finally understood. That little niggle in the back of my mind, that sensation that something didn’t make sense.
Hunter had been killed by a Ravagewolf. That’s what Dram had told us. He had come back to the castle, three months ago, tears pouring down his cheeks. He and Hunter had been out in the forest when the creature appeared. Hunter never stood a chance. So Dram had said.
I knew then why I’d been so preoccupied with staring at Hunter’s scar. The deep, white line running across his throat looked like it would never fully fade, clinging to his skin like a permanent necklace.
If Hunter was killed by a Ravagewolf, how was it that his throat bore the telltale scar of having been slit?
My eyes flicked open. Viking’s gaze was locked on me. “Hunter was murdered, wasn’t he?” I said, slowly.
The smile widened on Viking’s lips. “Now you’re getting it.”