Betrayed: Magi Rising Book 1

by Wagner, Raye

  “Yes. But the kümdâr wants other strong magî, too,” he said, lifting his hand to his face. He brushed his fingertips over his lower lip and winced.

  “You know him,” Bîcav said. Not asking but stating a fact.

  I nodded, continuing to stare at the Serîk. “Your leader accused you of lying, and you said, ‘I never lie.’ Then you proceeded to tell your leader that we’d gone off a different direction. You said there were footprints…” He probably didn’t even remember the conversation from a month ago—that kind of destruction might even be commonplace for his kind—but every second of that terrible day was etched in my memory. “You lied and kept us safe.”

  The Serîk surprised me with a somber nod.

  “That was the beginning of the end for me,” he stated, his voice filled with loathing. “I couldn’t… This perversion of magîk… His vision for Qralî is not my vision. I couldn’t serve him anymore, a magî who wreaks destruction on his own kind.”

  Zîvrünê growled and clenched his fists. Bîcav muttered something, and Zîvrünê deflated and pinched the bridge of his nose. Part of me wanted to yell at all of them, and the other part wanted to comfort Rünê. Instead, I fixed the Serîk with a suspicious look and asked, “You want us to believe that the kümdâr let you leave?”

  I scanned the room, looking to see how the other magî were taking his story. Would I put it past Zerôn to beat one of his Serîk as a way to get inside Zîvrünê’s hideaway? Nope. Not at all.

  The Serîk flinched and muttered, “Let me live is more like it.”

  “I found Bawêrî on the Western Rê, unconscious, four nights ago,” Bêrde said, his features hard as granite. “He was near the jungle’s under canopy and it was late. I don’t know when he’d been dumped, but he wouldn’t have survived until morning, too many hungry panthera, caiman, and conda.”

  Four nights ago? Ruin and I were still traveling, although we’d been deliberate in avoiding the Rê—for obvious reasons.

  “He’s telling the truth,” Bîcav said, turning to me. “And he wonders how you got past the Serîk on the Rê; they left dozens of magî from Heza all the way to Yândarî.”

  All eyes shifted, and their gazes landed on me.

  “I didn’t travel on the Rê,” I said. “We—” Bîcav shook his head, and I quickly amended. “—I traveled near it but stayed in the jungle, just in case.”

  Zîvrünê approached the side of the bed and asked the Serîk, “Will you let me see into your memories?” Rünê’s hulking form blocked my view as he stood over the magî. “It won’t hurt. I just want to know…”

  The Serîk nodded and said, “I know your ability, Zîvrünê. You can steal through my memories”—he held out his hand—“but you won’t like what you see.”

  Zîvrünê tensed, and his words floated to me. “I almost never do.”

  Silence descended, and a few minutes later, Zîvrünê stepped away from the bed, his body trembling. I stared at him, waiting for him to say something, but he stalked past me on his way out the door. He didn’t even glance my way.

  “He knows,” Bîcav said, his deep voice tinged with sorrow as he glanced at where Rünê had exited. “At least now he knows what Zerôn is doing.” After a long exhale, Bîcav looked at the other magî. “Bêrde, will you help Bawêrî clean up? Get him something to eat, and help him rest, please?”

  Maybe I should go after him—

  “Zädîsa,” Bîcav said. “Let’s go have that talk. You need to know what’s going on.”

  Finally. “That would be great.”

  I followed my friend outside to the shore of the lake, and we sat on the smooth river rock. Staring at the crashing white water, I waited for Bîcav to pick the questions from my head and deliver the answers. The seconds passed, rolling into minutes, and still he was silent.

  Turning to him, the ravaged expression on his face stole my demands, and I said, “It’s been bad.”

  He nodded and scrubbed the tears from his face. “Much worse than I expected,” he replied with a sniff. “He wanted to keep you safe from… all of it. And Zerôn is persuasive, even in his lies.”

  I shook my head and spat, “I’ve never believed him.”

  Bîcav laughed, another dark chuckle. “You’ve never trusted easily—except when it comes to your sister.”

  I huffed a laugh. “I haven’t trusted her since before Zerôn became Kümdâr.”

  “Except the time she took you to an empty room so you could ask Rünê to stop ignoring you.” Bîcav’s gaze was filled with pity.

  Which was why Rünê had no memory of my begging.

  The big Serîk continued, “Your sister and Zîvrünê, they’ve wanted to believe Zerôn would change. If they do enough, maybe he’ll see the error of his ways. It’s why Zîvrünê doesn’t listen to me—even when he knows I’m speaking the truth of Zerôn’s thoughts.”

  “What about the day Zîyanâ died? Did Zerôn really push her?”

  Bîcav shifted on the rock so he was facing me. Raising his eyebrows, he said, “Sometimes what a person thinks and what actually happened aren’t the same. And I can only hear the thoughts when present—and only one person at a time. Over the years, I’ve heard a lot about that day, but all three of them have very different thoughts, and if I told you…”

  He exhaled, long and low, and the anticipation made me want to hit him. He laughed again, but this time, the darkness held real mirth.

  I narrowed my eyes and said, “I might want to hit you, but I didn’t.”

  Nodding, he continued to chuckle for several seconds before speaking. Pulling me in for a side hug, he said, “I appreciate you not acting out on your thoughts of violence.” He sobered. “Zîvrünê found out first about Zerôn and Zîyanâ, and then later—after they had bonded—about their plans. You didn’t know—and he never told you—about his lack of feelings for your sister… or his feelings for you. Even when you were younger, Zîvrünê liked you better, a fact that Zerôn used to torment him about. Zerôn is very adept at twisting truth until it is sordid or perverted. And Zîvrünê has been fed a diet of shame from Zerôn for most of their lives. Giving Zerôn the rulership was an attempt to keep you safe and when that wasn’t enough, he sent you away.”

  Fetid. Rot.

  Bîcav went on to explain, and I sat dumbfounded, staring at the water but seeing nothing. My reality—the truth I’d built my life on—was flipped inside out and then backward.

  After Zîyanâ fell, as we raced down the mountain, the two of them fighting. Zerôn heaped blame on Zîvrünê; Zîyanâ would’ve never threatened to jump if Zîvrünê hadn’t destroyed her hopes and dreams by telling her he didn’t want to bond. The ultimate threat: Zerôn said he would tell me that Zîvrünê had driven Zîyanâ to jump.

  “I wouldn’t have believed Zerôn,” I said, nauseated by the abhorrent lies. “How did Zîvrünê not know?” My eyes widened as truth dawned on me. “Didn’t you tell him?”

  Bîcav nodded. “Of course I did, but you didn’t. And how would you have known to say anything? I serve him, and when he tells me to say nothing, I have very little choice.” He shrugged. “And then you were gone.”

  I thought of Zîvrünê storming out just now and asked, “So now what? I feel like there’s still something I’m missing. This isn’t all just who likes who, is it? Because that can be cleared up now, preferably before dinner.”

  Bîcav looked up at the Sivan canopy and snorted. “No one would want that more than me, except Zîvrünê.”

  Uh-hello. Me. Definitely, me because Zîvrünê tastes like… I thought of the almost kiss in the cavern, blushed when Bîcav coughed, and then pushed the thought from my mind. Think about birds… or fish.

  “Anything else,” he said. “Although I’m disappointed that’s as far as it went.”

  The afternoon sun was falling, and the colors of the jungle deepened in response to the decrease in light, and I hoped he wouldn’t see that I was blushing like I was stained with acai juice. Dropp
ing my head into my hands to hide, I murmured, “He bit me.”

  “Niiiice.” Bîcav chuckled.

  “No, not like a love bite. There’s something wrong with him.” His eyes were green, and he’s acting strange.

  Bîcav’s laughter dried up, so I peeked at him between my fingers, sitting upright when I noticed the somber expression on his face.

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  “He should be back,” Bîcav said, climbing to his feet. He held out his hand and added, “Let’s go find him; Zîvrünê should be the one to tell you the rest.”

  Only… we couldn’t find him. He wasn’t by the lake, or in the cavern, or hiding in his room. Zîvrünê had disappeared, and the longer we searched for him, the more agitated Bîcav became.

  “I think he left,” I said as we circled back around the dwelling. While the hut appeared small from the side nearest the lake, the building extended deep into the jungle, and we’d searched all through the area. “He was so mad—”

  “He wouldn’t leave. He knows better than to leave the sanctuary of his magîk-protected clearing. He wouldn’t take that risk, not with the Serîk and you here.”

  I studied Bîcav, the fear etched into the skin by his eyes, and I knew he was wrong.

  17

  Two Years Ago

  Three days passed, all much the same. By the end of the week, I was tired of being tired. I went back to the lake and bathed, walked around the clearing, and ate a full bowl of pîderîne for breakfast. The next morning when I awoke, Bîcav came in wearing a common sulu and a frown.

  “Your sister has been to the barrier three times this week. Are you well enough to visit with her?”

  I sat up and grimaced. “Do I look well enough?”

  Bîcav sat on the edge of my bed, the stuffed mattress dipping with his weight. He held out a glass of juice. “No, but she refuses to talk with either me or Zîvrünê.”

  “You want to know what she has to say?” I asked, immediately realizing the stupidity of my question. “You probably already know, but I don’t want to hear it again.”

  My throat clogged with the thought of her calling me more names. A whore?

  The girl who held me while I cried after my parents disappeared, who listened to me talk about my adoration of Zîvrünê when I was eleven and twelve, had turned on me. In hindsight, she’d been slowly changing the last couple of years—ever since she’d been with Zerôn. And now she wanted to talk to me?

  “Zîvrünê has been to the castle every day this week. He’s tried to find this place, the linoxa, but he can’t. We don’t know what Zerôn is doing or why. But there is rumor of another kirinî.”

  I frowned, his words yanking me out of my drowning self-pity. “Why would he have another kirinî? It was the first thing he did after becoming Kümdâr.”

  Bîcav nodded and nudged the juice toward me again. I sighed and took it, immediately chugging the contents so my stomach wouldn’t have time to rebel—and then grimacing when it did. Still, I kept it all down.

  “Now will you tell me?” I asked. “Why is he holding another kirinî?”

  He stood and walked to the door. “We don’t know. Maybe you should go find out from your sister.”

  “Where’s Zîvrünê?”

  Bîcav frowned, his gaze darting down the hall. Swallowing hard, he then said, “At the castle.” He took a deep breath and stepped out of the room before pausing just outside the doorway. Without turning back to look at me, he said, “If you can do anything to get him to stay—anything to get him to stop going there—I wish you would.”

  What more could I do?

  I scooted to the edge of the bed so I could get dressed.

  Stomping through the trail, I wanted to hit something, more particularly, someone. Zerôn was at the top of my list, followed by Zîyanâ. But Zîvrünê was a close third honestly, because if he wasn’t so thoughtful or compassionate or self-sacrificing, maybe I wouldn’t need to be talking to my sister to try and figure out what she and her insane bondmate were up to.

  What the rot was a linoxa? I’d never heard the term used to describe a place before. What type of a place would be an experiment? Something big and terrible if Zerôn created it.

  I stepped through the barrier, and all of my anger drained out of me like someone had pulled a plug after washing dishes.

  “Zîyanâ?” I said her name, stunned by her unkempt appearance.

  Her tunic, dirty and frayed, hung limply down to her knees, and her hair was matted and oily. She shifted, faced me, and reached up to cover her cheek—or rather, the purple-and-yellow bruise on her cheek. She wore no makeup, nothing to cover the wound or distract from it. As soon as she saw me, relief washed over her features, and she ran toward me.

  “Dîsa,” she said, pulling me into a tight hug. “I was so worried.”

  I leaned away and studied her face, but there was nothing but sincerity there.

  “But you’re okay,” she said. “Nothing bad happened to you, right?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she wiped her nose. “Zerôn said”—she sniffed and swallowed—“you’d been hurt. But you don’t look hurt.”

  What the rot? “What are you talking about?”

  “Nothing. Nothing. I just wasn’t sure. I didn’t know.”

  “You’re not making any sense. What did you think had happened? What’s going on, Zîyanâ? What is Zerôn telling you?”

  At the mention of his name, her eyes widened and she darted a glance behind. When she returned her attention to me, her jaw was set in a determined line. “You should go. Leave Yândarî. Zerôn suspects”—she tapped my arm where the new tattoos were—“this has been tampered with, and he wants you to enter the kirinî so he can assess your power.”

  “I don’t want to,” I said simply. “And I don’t have to.”

  “If he changes the law, you will have no choice. He’s ordered the elders… But if you leave… Have Rünê and Bîcav help… You should go.”

  My insides twisted with pity because it was clear something was wrong with my sister, only I had no idea what all Zerôn was doing to her.

  “Do you need somewhere safe to stay?” I asked. “I’m sure I could bring you back through the barrier—”

  “No,” she shouted. “D-don’t you dare.” She pulled away from me and the path. “Really, you should go. I’m trying to help you. You don’t want to get mixed up in what’s going to happen.”

  Cold anxiety blew by, and I wondered what she knew. She took another step back, and I rapidly fired off all the questions I could think of.

  “What is the linoxa? Why does Zerôn want to do another kirinî? Why would he want me? Did you tell him about my power?”

  Taking a deep breath, she shuffled closer and whispered, “Can I ask you a question?”

  All her behavior was so uncharacteristic of the magî she’d been, and I wanted to kill Zerôn for whatever he was doing to her. “Sure,” I said, even while my mind was spinning. How could I get her out of here? “You can ask me anything.”

  “Would it be wrong to steal happiness?”

  All of my thoughts drained with the question, and I stared at her, my heart thumping against my ribs in warning. “What?”

  “If I found a small bit of happiness”—she swallowed and then continued—“would it be wrong to take it? Would you think less of me?”

  The question was weighted, and I had no idea of the context, but my heart ached for Zîyanâ. In my core, I believed stealing was wrong, but her word choice made me think she was referring to a betrayal of Zerôn. I extended my hand, hoping she would come closer so I could pull her to safety, and said, “I will always love you. You’re my sister; I want you to be happy.”

  Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she stepped back—away from me—and repeated her initial message. “Leave Yândarî. Don’t come back. You don’t want to get mixed up in this.”

  Then she ran away.
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br />   Stunned, I stood rooted to the spot for several minutes, staring after Zîyanâ. Should I go after her? There was something seriously wrong, and she probably needed help, but was I strong enough to give it to her? My gut instinct was to wait and talk it over with Zîvrünê and Bîcav. I pivoted to return to the cabin, but my gaze snagged on the flora. Right where my sister had been standing, the plants had grown thick and dozens of inches taller in her wake.

  I returned to the cabin and told Bîcav everything, even though he’d heard it all firsthand. But the plants’ growth was new.

  We waited another hour before Zîvrünê burst into the hut.

  “Zädîsa!” he bellowed, voice tinged with panic.

  Bîcav and I sprinted to him.

  The former-heir stood in the hallway, blue eyes wild with fear, and the emotion rolled off him in crashing waves.

  “Holy Kânkarä,” he said, pulling me into a fierce embrace. “She didn’t take you. Fetid rot, I can’t believe… She didn’t take you.”

  I could only assume he meant Zîyanâ, but she hadn’t even mentioned me going with her anywhere.

  “She told me I needed to leave,” I said, wiggling out of his embrace. “Why—”

  Bîcav sucked in a deep breath and left the room.

  “Where’s he going?” Fear clawed at my chest, and my heart skipped a beat and then tripled its pace as my adrenaline spiked. “What’s going on?”

  Zîvrünê leaned toward me and held my gaze. “You need to go, Dîsa. We need to get you out of Yândarî as fast as we can—”

  “Can’t I just hide here?” This sanctuary was protected. I could even add an extra layer of magîk. Maybe. Probably.

  “I wish you could, but this is the first place he’ll look if you stay. Please…” His voice cracked, and his features were ravaged with emotion. “Please,” he begged. “I’ll send for you as soon as it’s safe. No, I’ll come to you myself. Just, I need to find a way to stop this, and I can’t think… You’re so vulnerable. There’s a caravan of magî going to Terit… Please?”