by Reid, Stacy
He rubbed his hand down the smooth curve of her side and buttocks, and up again, aware the soothing motions were more for himself than her. "It was on my one-hundredth birthday. I woke with a fever that the palace healers could not heal. My father was summoned…" His throat closed as the memories gripped him in a brutal vise.
Gavyn exhaled. “I did not understand why but my father waited in my chamber with a sword and valnetium chains.”
“Oh Gavyn,” Xian gasped.
"For days I burned with fever as the darkness inside me struggled to manifest. I did not imagine I was a half-blood. No one had ever told me anything about my mother other than that she died birthing me."
To recall the attack of his father as the sword had swung toward his head, and fire had belched in the room, all with the intent to end his life hurt somewhere deep down inside. A place that had never healed, where betrayal had longed lingered in a mire of darkness. “My father tried to kill me.”
She stiffened, rage pouring through her veins and leaking through her chakra.
"Little is known about Darkans, but it seems they come into some of their powers on the cusp of their one-hundredth year. My father…my father who taught me honor, who taught me to fight, to control my flames, the man who taught me about duty and loyalty to our nation knew this. He waited and watched, and when it was evident the blood and powers of the dark ones would manifest in me, he tried to kill me. As he had killed my mother."
A choked gasp ripped from his lover, and she scrambled to sit in the center of the bed, staring at him with shocked eyes. "He…your father killed your mother?"
“Along with every servant that had been present in the birthing chamber.”
They stared at each other, and the compassion in her eyes soothed the stirring darkness. "When he tried to kill me, though I was still fevered, we fought, and I conquered. I held my sword with the blade coated with fire to his throat and demanded the truth. You see he loved my mother, but he had not known of her origins. While she birthed me, her nature was revealed. The exile laws had recently been passed. And my father claimed he did what was necessary to protect the house of Westk’arr.”
She crawled onto his lap and hugged him. “I am so sorry, Gavyn. I’ll not stop until Ajali repealed those laws.”
“It was Darkans who assassinated your mother. I understand why the laws were enacted.”
She bravely lifted her chin. "Yes…but the vile actions of a few do not represent the many." And then his love started to cry, deep, harsh sobs, and he understood she was letting go of a hatred she had of the dark ones for the longest time.
He held her as she poured her fury into his arms, until her sobs quieted, and until she slumbered. Several minutes of staring into the high-rise ceiling and merely holding her and wishing he would never let her go, a faint stirring pierced through his thoughts. Gavyn frowned, caught the mental knock and tentatively opened his mind.
“Did you kill your father?”
He stiffened and peered down at the woman in his arms. Her chest rose gently, she still slept, yet he had heard her clearly in his thought. At his silence, another stirring came in his mind, gentle and uncertain.
“Will you not tell me?”
He opened his thoughts and tentatively questioned, “Xian?”
“Yes, my love?”
His heart pounded like a war drum. Ajali had told him that he had formed a telepathic connection with Tehdra. A link the Darkans referred to as lei and was only possible between mated pairs. Was Xian his mate? If yes, where was all the rage and roaring possessiveness the Darkans were rumored to have for their mates?
With trembling fingers, he brushed the lock from off her forehead and peered into her face. Wet spikes still lingered on her lashes, and he used his thumb to wipe away the tear stain.
“No, I did not. He traveled to the mountains and performed seppuku.”
“Did you watch as he pierced his own heart with a blade coated with flames?”
“I did.”
And he had grieved his father even as he had struggled to understand his betrayal.
“I am sorry, Gavyn. You have lost so much.”
And the echoes of her sorrow, regret, and breath-taking love and acceptance stayed with him a long time.
How do I let you go?
Chapter 7
A small army had been gathered on the clearing behind castle Shela, their destination the mountain paths that would covertly take them from her kingdom to the wasteland. Warriors had been sent ahead to safeguard the routes and ensured no spies or any civilians who could report their movements were ahead. King Ajali, his consort, Uriah, and Lady Shae stood in the distance and observed as their convoy slowly crawled away. All the farewells had been said over an hour ago, and Xian sensed Gavyn's stare though she did not see him atop the parapet with Ajali and the others.
Their night together she would treasure for all her life, even though she could not escape the awareness it had felt like the beginning of something beautiful, instead of a farewell. Taking a deep breath, Xian sent a piercing whistle into the air. An ear-splitting shriek echoed down the mountain from the caves, and several of the warriors who accompanied Prince Baku exchanged wary glances.
She hid her smile as her wraith rolled from the cave, plunged off the mountain with mesmerizing grace, and arrived with fearsome agility in the vast, open area. Azriel landed, the force of the wind generated by his wings tumbled her locks from its upset knot to her waist.
“What is it?”
“They are real?”
“It is a legend.”
“Be on guard men, it can attack at any moment.”
Whispers from Prince Baku's men swept through the clearing, as she made her way over to Azriel. He was a terrible sight in its width and height—a monstrous creature born of darkness. It appeared shadowy and insubstantial, yet one could also see the outline of his massive body, the clawed feet, its sinewy wings, and serrated teeth. Empty sockets where eyes should’ve been glared pitilessly at the gathering.
Prince Baku recoiled before he caught himself, then smoothed his face into impressive impassivity. “I’ve heard of these creatures,” he said, walking closer but staying at a respectable distance.
Xian glanced at him. “Have you?”
“Yes. Why have you summoned it?”
"Azriel and I are friends, he was a gift from Ajali for my last birthday," she said, flashing with nimble speed atop the ridged back of the creature. "Riding him is my preferred mode of travel."
Distaste settled on the prince's face. "You will ride in the carriage with me. There is much to learn about each other, and it is best we get on with it. We must also be vigilant of the dangers of Taryllion."
The command fell between them, and they stared at each other. Quelling the shiver of apprehension that scythed through her heart, she murmured, "I am quite aware of the dangers, Prince Baku. I will ride Azriel until we reach the border of the wastelands, then I will accompany you in the carriage. I understand the journey from the wasteland to the heart of Avindar, the City of Zanadul, is five days ride by carriage. Those five days is plenty of time to learn more about each other and our expectations."
A shadow of displeasure settled on his face. “I expect you to obey, princess.”
There was a crisp note of warning in his tone and the depth of his eyes, and Xian lifted her chin in challenge. "And I expect you will learn to understand I have a mind of my own."
They stared at each other for several moments, and with a slight sneer of his lip, he turned away and vaulted atop a massive black kun and gathered the reins.
Xian sank her fingers into Ariel’s shadowy tendons and sinews and dug her booted heels into the ridge on its side. She waited until the convoy started their journey before urging Azriel to the sky. She did not fly too far, soaring above their heads, reveling in the freedom atop the creature she rode. The small army riding their four-legged beasts kicked up dust and trembled the earth as they race with stealthy speed away from Nuria.<
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Her creature flared its wings in mighty arches, dipped slightly, and climbed higher into the sky. She inhaled the crisp coldness of the air into her lungs. "Fly, Azriel…fly." Xian whispered.
Azriel shot through the sky with dizzying speed as the procession below rode away from Adara using the mountain paths with thundering hooves. The wraith dipped and twirled as they sped over the hills, valleys, and gushing waterfalls rushed by. Her heart broke with each mile passed, and unable to help herself she turned and stared at the City of fire.
In the distance, her city reflected like jasper and diamonds as the sun glinted off its many walls, turrets, baileys, and mezzanines. Emotions ravaged her heart, and she sent a silent prayer to the king of all, hoping war would not destroy her kingdom, and that Ajali and their warriors would do everything to stop the battle at the borders and protect the people of Nuria.
Azriel dipped low, flapping its wing with raw power. Almost an hour of flying, she exited Adara into sheer wilderness splendor. She slowed her creature’s speed, so they moved at the pace of the convoy below. It was another four hours of flying before she spied the hovering bareness of the wastelands. Dark, imposing mountains stretched as if they would reach the sky, and massive clawed footed birds circled the mountains of the Taryllion. Even from her distance, she heard their caws, a call of warning for those who lived in the wasteland. Urging her wraith to the ground, she slipped from it, and with clicks of her tongue commanded it to the air where it should watch vigilantly.
Xian flashed to one of the rider-less kuns and mounted it, trotting over to the prince.
“I am pleased you’ve joined us, Princess Xian.”
She made no reply, and simply rode in silence, heart filled with heaviness and resolve.
I’ll not fail my people…but I’ll wait for you Gavyn, and damn the consequences.
* * *
Something was wrong.
Gavyn stumbled weakly from the kun he rode toward his palace grounds. He had returned to the province of E’Bari, where he was the high duke and governed more than sixteen million denizens of Nuria. The warrior forced he trained there was Eight hundred thousand strong, and while they trained four hours out of each day, now that war had been declared, it would increase to eight hours daily.
He made his way inside, tugging at the silken cravat around his throat. An unknown fire raged inside him, raw and visceral, stabbing through him with gut-wrenching agony. It had started the very second he had walked away from Xian's chamber this morning. He had been a snarling, painfilled beast as he had watched her from the dark interiors of the forest as she'd ridden away.
A terrible craving had then tore through him, relentless, insatiable, and he had stumbled away, a savage wave of fury and pain clawing at the walls of his mind. Then the fever had come, unexpected and relentless.
Sweat slicked his skin, and the hands he lifted to his vision trembled.
Xian…he held onto thoughts of her as he battled the anomaly raging through his system. Heat speared into his thoughts, ripping through the sensual memories of Xian underneath and atop him. Fire consumed the sensual drowsy image of her, and in the distortion of his thoughts, his lover screamed, ablaze with flames and pain.
A few servants dipped into a quick bow as he stumbled along the opulent corridor of his palace, his boots squeaking against the onyx marbled floor as he dragged his feet weakly along. Reaching his chamber was critical. He tore the shirt and jacket from his body, ignoring the startled gasps from the servants. Gavyn tried to flash with speed up the winding staircases and found that he was too drained. He stumbled again, and he leaned against the walls of the hallway, laboriously dragging himself along.
“Your Grace, you are on fire,” a servant cried in alarm. “I will summon the healers!”
The sound of running footsteps reverberated in his head, but he barely paid it any attention, too focused on placing one foot before the other.
“Gavyn! What is happening?”
Acheron, high duke of the house of Thessaly, and one of Gavyn’s closest friends appeared in his line of vision and then wavered. Gavyn stumbled, and his friend flashed with such speed he did not see him, only felt when he caught him.
“King’s teeth! You are burning up, and your chakra is leaking all around you,” Acheron hissed.
“Take me to the caves,” Gavyn demanded hoarsely, his throat raw from the flames writhing on the inside.
His friend flashed with him to the cool underground caves beneath his palace grounds and deposited him into the cold cavern waters. With a sense of shock, he noted the sizzling hiss and the wispy smoke rising around him. He sank deep, allowing the water to close over his head, and he stayed there for several minutes until it was necessary to breathe.
When he rose, Acheron was lowered onto his haunches, staring into the water, his multi-hued eyes of green, blue, and gold, cold and watchful.
"There are black inks of gold, blue, and green painted all over your chest and arms. And your flames…it is melding with a black chakra."
Gavyn glanced down. “The cursed marks.”
He felt his friend’s worry and curiosity sharper than he'd ever sense any emotions. They had a bitter yet sweet flavor to them, and he tipped his head to the ceiling of the caves and inhaled deep. A pleasure rush hit Gavyn's gut, and the snarl that slipped from him resounded in the cave. He felt out of control, fevered, and hungry. Except he did not know for what he craved.
Xian.
Memories of her sultry taste, her husky laugh, the sweet clasp of her pussy ghosted over his cock and increased his hunger a hundred-fold.
"The marks are expanding," Acheron murmured. "Your eyes are pure black, except for a pinpoint of flame atop your iris. What is going on my friend?"
Power hummed in the air, and Acheron’s waist length silver-white hair crackled with energy, as the power of the warlord inside of him roused.
“I am like you,” Gavyn rasped, trying to breathe through the fire twisting through his insides. “I’ve known it for almost four hundred years.”
Acheron was a melting pot of breeds, being part necromancer warlord, part Serangite, part Nurian. It made him an outcast in many circles but a powerful ally of Nuria, the only part of his twisted origins which had claimed him with open arms.
Acheron frowned, and shrewd calculation shifted through his eyes. “Know what?”
“I am a half-blood.” He snarled, slapping a palm to his forehead as splinters of pain stabbed inside his mind, and heat burst through him in a fiery wave. “I kissed her…made love to her, tasted her chakra, watched her rode away with him…and since then…since then something is wrong.”
His back bowed as pain writhed inside of him. He screamed, and fire poured from his throat and washed through the cavern. It disappeared as if sucked into a vacuum, and he glanced up to see that it was Acheron who had taken control of the flames and had contracted them into a small spinning ball which he sent deep underneath the waters.
“I must summon the healers,” Acheron clipped, his eyes glowing with worry.
“No,” Gavyn said, gripping the stone edge and dragging himself from the water. “Get Tehdra.”
Crawling, he laboriously pushed from the waters and dragged himself along the cold, stone floor.
Acheron closed his eyes. "That is the darkness I always have sense," he murmured. "You are a Darkan mongrel."
A cold rasp of laughter jerked through his frame. “That I am. And I am about to betray the only home I’ve ever known.”
“Xian,” Acheron said with a slight smile. “She is your mate.”
“I only know she is my reason for being, and I must go for her.” Something unrecognizable inside of him hungered for her, and somewhere unfamiliar inside burned with the unrelenting need to be by her side.
And damn the consequences.
He felt the sun slipped behind the mountains, and shadows seemed to creep along the floor of the caves and its walls. Gavyn realized the shadows stretched from him
like tentacles. Something monstrous prowled in the dark recess of his heart, and a furious hunger pounded through him.
His back bowed, and a roar of torment slipped from him and resound through his palace. Since he'd discovered his dark origins, his honor and loyalty had been the crutch he relied on to resist the dark powers it offered in his dreams. Another scorching wave pummelled his body, and he twisted and convulsed as if invisible arms turned him about on the floor. A crack echoed, and icy agony danced up his spine.
“King’s teeth,” Acheron breathed hoarsely. “Wings are sporting from your back.”
His bones cracked and twisted, and Gavyn burned from the insides, and he writhed and scream from the pain that gave him no relief.
“I am shifting,” Gavyn said hoarsely, primal knowledge settling deep into his bones.
“Darkans do not shift.”
But I am.
Chapter 8
The Castle Shela
The King’s wing.
A wash of violence and darkness trembled on the air, the wraiths in the high mountains screamed their frenzy, and the beast inside Tehdra El Kyn stirred. As a Darkan she sensed all negative emotions—rage, hate, jealousy, and the darker, the happier the demon inside her was, for it fed on negativity. Yet what she felt trembling on the very air was not an emotion itself, but darkness that bespoke of fire. If she had not known better, she would have thought it was the rage of the Phoenyx trembling on the air.
She turned in the cage of her mate's arms, sliding her legs along his, brushing her mind against his. They had just made love, and his deeps thoughts were calm and sated. Ajali slept, his chest rising with his deep, even breathing. Now he appeared relaxed, and not the caged animal who had prowled in this very chamber for hours, flames crackling around him as the aura of the Phoenyx had made itself evident. The demon inside of her shied away at the display of power and had lurked in the cage of her mind, as she had approached Ajali and seduced him away from the torments of his thoughts.
