Betrayed: Magi Rising Book 1

by Wagner, Raye

  Right. I was such a hypocrite—but still. “I understand you were upset because you thought you were going to partner with her, but she never treated you well, and Zerôn is an ass.” I held up my hand to stop his protest, but it never came. He merely stepped closer, and my words spilled out unchecked. “She was young and stupid and so were you. I never understood why you would trust Zerôn. You had to know—” His knee bumped mine, and I sucked in a shallow breath before continuing my ramblings. “—he was selfish. But she was only a year older than me now, I think—” He traced his fingers up my arm, and my mind completely blanked. “—so…”

  Rot. What was my point? Something about him not being with Zîyanâ… which was a good thing. He inched closer, and his scent swirled around me. Why did he smell so good? Like sandalwood and ylang ylang and something so him.

  “Do you really believe I was ever upset about your sister?” he asked, still smirking.

  I stared up at him, his eyes capturing my soul, and nodded.

  Zîvrünê traded his right to rule Qralî for Zîyanâ’s life. If that wasn’t love, such a feeling didn’t exist. And she repaid him by severing their engagement and bonding with Zerôn.

  “Are you trying to tell me you’re not?” I asked, my voice dripping with sarcastic bitterness from the last year. “Or that you don’t care about her? I know that’s not true. You’re probably with her—”

  “No. Never,” he said, his voice rough. “I do care about her, but like a sister. I don’t want her; I never wanted her. I thought you knew. I thought I was pretty obvious.”

  My semi-certainty shattered, and my questions spilled out. “You said you would never touch me again and then you almost never spoke to me again. You treated me like I was the fetid bûyî for six months. Why would you do that?”

  “Did you want me to talk to you?”

  “I stood outside your room and begged,” I snapped. “Don’t you remember?” Every single minute had been torture.

  He held my gaze, steady, intense. “If that happened, I have no memory of it. Are you sure you came to my room?”

  I opened my mouth to clarify. Maybe I’d been wrong. Maybe—

  Rünê curled his lips and added, “Or did you merely imagine such nonsense while in the arms of your lover?”

  “Wh-what?” I gasped and shook my head. “What lover? What are you even talking about?”

  “I saw you talking to one of the Serîk while we were traveling. Zerôn said—”

  Lies—so many lies—and he believed them.

  “I’ve never had a lover,” I shouted, blushing with the admission. I sucked in a deep breath and added, “I never wanted anyone else. That is the truth.”

  “May I touch you?” he asked.

  He wanted to see?

  “Fine. Sift through my memories and see the truth. Zerôn is a liar.” I sucked in a breath as he cupped my neck and tilted my head up toward his. He stroked his thumb down my neck and just above the swell of my breast. My lips parted, and I forced out a question, something I’d always wanted to know. “Do you care about Qralî? About the magî?”

  The last question came out breathy, and his eyes flashed green. His gaze traveled over me, heating my skin. He cleared his throat and said, “I’ve never cared about ruling.” Pursing his lips, he slowly reached forward to push my hair back and then tugged the tunic off my shoulder. He traced his fingers over my exposed skin and added, “And I didn’t care that Zîyanâ left me. Even if it was wrong, I was glad.”

  The longer he touched me, the more my mind clouded with desire. I didn’t want to concentrate hard enough to formulate a question. I would steal every second of this for as long as he wanted—forever. He traced his fingers down my neck, making me shiver despite the heat in the cave. Then, eliminating the small remaining distance, his lips parted, and he slowly leaned over me.

  My lips parted in expectation, but he leaned to the side.

  “What are you…” The question died as he traced his nose up my neck, along my thundering pulse. I grabbed his arms to stay upright, swallowing hard as he caressed my skin. Closing my eyes, I tilted my head to give him better access.

  I’d dreamed of Zîvrünê like this for longer than I wanted to admit—even to myself. My heart pumped with the rush of desire. He exhaled, his breath stroking my already heated skin, just behind my ear, making me ache with want. I whimpered, and he grabbed my hips, holding me still as he pressed closer, until we were flush.

  I let him. I would let him do anything he wanted. Fear that I could break this spell kept me immobile as he rotated his hips, grinding against me. I clung to him, to the pleasure, wanting it to last.

  “It’s always been you,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. His grip tightened, and he kneaded through the tunic over my hip and then pressed his hand to my lower back, a rumble coming from his chest. “I was such a fool to miss it.”

  He pressed his lips to my neck, softly, and then again, open-mouthed as he tasted my skin. I panted, the short breaths pushing my breasts against him. His words barely registered, but the desire between us swelled with the steam rising from the hot springs. His teeth grazed where he’d just tasted, and I moaned, pushing my hips into him—no longer thinking at all.

  Instinct drove me, and I whimpered as he coordinated our movements. He was mine. He’d always been mine.

  “Rünê,” I whispered, his name a sweet plea on my lips.

  He responded with a throaty growl and pushed me against the wall of the pool. He inched my tunic up, the pads of his fingers rough on my thigh, and I moaned again. “This… yes… Rünê.”

  The pressure of his lips on my skin increased as he kissed down my neck. A moment later, my moan morphed into a startled cry as he bit me. The sharp pain disappeared, but my neck… The pain wrenched me from the torpid lust, and I shoved him as hard as I could—which is to say he didn’t even move.

  “What the rot?” I snapped and leaned back. “That hurt.”

  Whoa. My stomach dropped, and I put my hands on his chest. There was something wrong. His eyes were clouded with desire, totally understandable, but Zîvrünê’s irises were normally blue—bright blue, like the vibrant poison dendros in the marshy areas of the jungle. But even in the dim lighting, his eyes weren’t blue. They were green. Definitely green.

  “Zîvrünê?” I swallowed and patted his chest. “Hey. Rünê? Are you okay?”

  He shuddered. Closing his eyes, he stepped away, releasing his hold on me. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “You should go.”

  16

  Today

  Leave? After we just almost… My concern turned to anger in a flash. “What? You just… we just… and you think… No.”

  He jerked his head upright and pinned me with a glare. “I’m telling you to leave for your own safety; you should listen.”

  “Excuse me?” I huffed. Memories of him telling me to leave two years ago flashed in my mind. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. And no way am I going to listen to you. Not after last time.”

  “You don’t trust me?” he asked, incredulous.

  “Really?” I snapped. “You abandoned me to the jungles of Qralî while you did… what?” The cloud of desire evaporated in the steam, and all the anger, frustration, and hurt I’d carried for two years came roaring back to me. “I will never do what you tell me. Never again. That’s not how love works—”

  “You think you know how love works?” he snarled. “Does it protect? Does it sacrifice? Does it protect and sacrifice even when it’s torture? Tell me, Dîsa, does love look like that?”

  What the rot? I frowned, baffled with his ranting. Was he implying he felt that way… Oh, of course. “You mean Zîyanâ—”

  “No!” he bellowed and then shuddered with the vehemence of his denial. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and then another, standing stiffly in the water only inches away from me.

  But I wasn’t going to let this go. I’d gone two years without answers, and
I wasn’t going to live that way any longer. I was no longer a subadult and no longer ignorant.

  He opened his eyes, blue once again, and said, “You misunderstand.”

  “Then, please, tell me,” I whispered. “I want to know.”

  Nodding, he stepped backward until he was on the opposite side of the pool and then sat. “I wanted to be in love with Zîyanâ; it was the best thing for Qralî, but I didn’t love her. I finally realized I couldn’t pretend that day she fell.”

  My face pinched from frowning so hard. This made no sense.

  “Do you remember that morning?”

  His look was so intense I could feel it on the other side of the pool. I tried to remember, but the details seared in my memory of that day were from after.

  “You had Zîyanâ braid your hair, and you wore one of her tunics.”

  I did remember. She’d put a red bead in with a black feather. She’d teased me for having a crush on Zîvrünê, reminding me that he was hers. I almost didn’t go, but my infatuation with Zîvrünê was greater than my pride. Zîvrünê had walked beside me, and we’d talked—I couldn’t even remember what about—then he sprinted forward, the beginning of the end of my world.

  “One of the worst days of my life,” I muttered, remembering the shock of seeing Zîyanâ’s soul, and her denying it later. I’d come into my power that day, but it had brought only misery. Like Zîvrünê giving Zerôn the right to rule to heal her body, the only reason she was able to get back in and live.

  “Me too,” Rünê said.

  I rolled my eyes at my own stupidity. “Right. Sorry—”

  “Not what you’re thinking, Dîsa. You might’ve believed I was so in love with Zîyanâ that I gave up my right to rule.”

  “That’s not true?”

  He closed his eyes, dropped his chin to his chest, and murmured, “No.” After a moment of silence, he continued, “I told Zîyanâ I didn’t want to be with her. I wasn’t in love with her, I’ve never been in love with her, and it wasn’t fair to either of us. I knew she and Zerôn were close. Zerôn liked to tease me, but I didn’t care.”

  “You didn’t care?” I repeated his words like a stupid night parrot, even though I knew what they meant.

  “Not like that.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and grimaced.

  But then why? What had happened? Something big—really big. And then why had they both come to me and begged me to flee?

  After another bloated pause, he cleared his throat, rousing me from my musings.

  “I told her I knew about her and Zerôn and I wasn’t going to bond with her. I thought she’d be relieved; I knew she didn’t love me.”

  Fetid rot. I knew Zîyanâ, and, as much as I loved her, she wouldn’t have been happy. She would’ve been terrified. She would’ve only seen the stability and power she was losing.

  “She threatened to jump. Zerôn grabbed her. I don’t think she meant to…”

  I remembered sprinting up the mountain, someone shouting, and then Zîyanâ screaming. I’d seen her golden hair, her hands flailing. Zîvrünê hadn’t even been near her. Oh Rot. My stomach clenched, and I gave voice to the doubt, “Did he push her off?”

  He clasped his hands between his knees, gaze down. “I don’t think so.”

  But he couldn’t assure me if he hadn’t seen it in Zerôn’s memory.

  “So why—”

  “Why go along with Zerôn being Kümdâr? I meant it when I said I didn’t care about power. Rather, I wouldn’t care as long as my people were safe. I’ll do whatever I need to keep them safe, to keep my loved ones protected.”

  I covered my mouth and turned away. My stomach churned, an instantaneous reaction as memories of the murders in Heza surfaced, my sister bleeding out, of the last two years of my life. I muttered, “Who are you trying to keep safe?”

  “Everyone,” he said, throwing his head back as a strangled cry broke free. He coughed, cleared his throat, and said, “Everyone.”

  Disbelief filled my chest and spilled out of my mouth. How could he not see? “You thought letting Zerôn rule would keep anyone safe?” I asked incredulously. “Really? Who? Who was it going to keep safe?” I reined in my emotions, shoving them back into the recesses of my mind to deal with when I had time and space to process. Glancing up at him, I said, “They’re not safe.”

  He stood, stiffly, a frown fixed on his face. “What do you mean?” he asked. “Are you talking about the bûyî?”

  “No,” I replied. His surprise further confused me—like he didn’t know. “Zerôn is doing another kirinî… a third… a fourth, maybe? I don’t even know how many this is.”

  “What?” he snapped, his expression morphing from confusion to betrayal to rage in a blink. “No. He’s not. Where did you hear that? Someone is lying—”

  I jerked my hands out of the water and held them up in surrender. “No one,” I said in a rush. “No one told me, Rünê. I saw it. His Serîk gathered a bunch of magî together in Heza and then slaughtered them.”

  He started shaking again, and uncertainty seeped into my skin. The only information I’d learned was about the past, and my interpretation then had been so wrong. Was I wrong now, too? Maybe I’d misunderstood whatever was happening in Heza. Except there was no way to misunderstand the deaths, or the Serîk in red.

  “I don’t know why, but I watched it with my own eyes.”

  Zîvrünê darkened, and fury rolled off him. Keeping my hands up felt even more important as his face contorted into a vicious mask.

  I tried to mitigate whatever damage I’d done. “Listen, the Serîk were gathering magî; I assumed it was for another kirinî. Maybe I’m wrong about that part. I really don’t know what he’s doing with them. Sorry that I upset you.”

  I inched back until my calves were flush to the stone. The only way to increase the distance was to get out, flee—which would be akin to admitting that he made me nervous. Even though he did, I couldn’t let him know it.

  “You’re wrong. He said it was over,” Zîvrünê growled. He sucked in deep breaths as though trying to calm himself. “He promised he would stop… if I… He swore it.”

  Through the water I could feel his body practically vibrating with rage.

  “You need to leave. Get out of here. Leave Yândarî, and don’t come back. No matter what.”

  I snorted in disgust. “I’m not leaving again. At least not without a lot more answers. All the answer, actually—like everything you know.”

  His furrow hardened. “Not from me…”

  He shuddered and then, without finishing his sentence, spun and dove under the water, surfacing at the other end of the pool a few seconds later. He climbed out—not even bothering to look back at me—crossed the cave to the clear, cool lake and leapt in, swimming through the pounding waterfall as though he were being chased.

  Ass. Or maybe he was delusional or ill—only we didn’t get sick, ever. Zetas were the most powerful magî, and illness didn’t affect us. Injury yes, but I’d seen enough of Zîvrünê to know he was physically whole, except for the scars. What was up with the scars?

  I released a slow breath, trying to find a way to put together the puzzle he’d presented so there was sense amidst the chaos, but it wasn’t happening. The only excuse I could come up with was a mental issue, but that was actually Zîvrünê’s power: magîk over the mind, memory, brain stuff and all that. Unless he was losing it. Had he ever had someone bind his powers again?

  I swam back to shore, and as I waded out of the water, my frustration grew. Marching toward the hut, I was startled by the sudden burst of shouting.

  “If he dies, we’ll get nothing,” Bîcav snapped, shifting out of the way as I opened the door. He rounded on me and said, “You were supposed to ask questions and then come talk to me. What did you tell him?”

  I mentally ran through the last bit of our argument, and the big Serîk’s eyes widened.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, glancing down the hallway.

 
There was no reason to answer him aloud, and he must’ve plucked the answer out of my thoughts. He swore and spun, running down the hall toward an open door, shouting, “She’s telling the truth.”

  As if I would lie. I marched out of the house and returned to the shore to sit on the rocks and let the air suck the moisture from my clothing while I thought. Why would Zîvrünê think I was lying?

  The only people I assumed were liars were those who’d proven themselves such—like Zerôn. But when I lived here, in Yândarî, I hadn’t trusted anyone either. No, I did, but only Zîvrünê and Bîcav.

  So what was really going on? Zîvrünê’s hut was quiet behind me, the only noise in the clearing coming from the waterfall and the trill of the birds. I returned to the home, armed with suspicion, and let myself in. I padded down the hallway, stopping just outside the open doorway, and peeked through.

  The room was pristine white, with the exception of the battered and bruised male magî in bed, propped up on pillows, and Bêrde sitting at his side. At the end of the bed stood Zîvrünê and Bîcav.

  The recovering magî’s left eye was swollen shut, and he spoke with a lisp—likely because of his split lip. But there was something familiar about the Serîk’s voice.

  “Zerôn wasn’t just looking for her, but he does want Dîsa. Zîyanâ told him her sister can see the souls of dead animals, and now he thinks she’s the key to making it work.” His attention jumped from Zîvrünê to the doorway where I stood.

  “You,” I breathed, staring at the Serîk. I recognized him now. “You were in Heza.” Memories of the gruesome bodies flitted through my mind.

  A heavy weight settled over the room—dread, anger, horror—or perhaps that was all me. Even so, Zîvrünê just stared at me, and Bêrde stared at the kümdâr’s Serîk. Bîcav had the decency to blanch with my scrutiny and drop his gaze, but he could pick the thoughts right from my head.

  “How did you get here?” the Serîk asked. “They didn’t find you?”

  The rock in my stomach doubled. “Were you in Heza looking for me?”