Twice Blessed

by Taryn Noelle Kloeden

  Haerian gave an offended huff. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

  “No.” Silver took Haerian’s hand. She did not pull away. “I’m glad you challenged me, though I regret we were hurt. An Alpha needs to be challenged, otherwise they’d just be a tyrant. I want you to live up to your potential. Go where your pack needs you. Serve, and see what comes of it. If you don’t like it,” Silver added with a tentative smile, “you can always come back and challenge me again.”

  To Silver’s relief, Haerian returned the smile. “I’ll consider it.”

  Silver stood. “That’s all I ask. I’m proud to have someone like you in the pack, Haerian.”

  The young woman said nothing, and Silver decided it best not to press her good fortune. She left Haerian and returned to the site, hoping to find a message waiting for her.

  To her relief, another Maenoren falcon roosted outside her den. She scratched the bird's neck as she removed its scroll. Silver unrolled the message and read. Her heart sank with every word.

  Rayna was gone.

  Again.

  Thick darkness coiled around Rayna. Pressure constricted around her like some great snake. She could not open her eyes. She could not move. The only thing she felt was the pressing darkness—slick and viscous—clinging to her skin. She was underneath the black ocean at Hell’s mouth. She was certain of it. Rayna could not remember how or when, but somehow she'd been sent back to this wretched realm.

  Or, perhaps she had never escaped it.

  Perhaps, all that had happened since—saving Channon, returning home, defeating Rhael—had been some fever-dream, a taunt to remind her of all she'd given up. Those monstrous birds had pecked her body apart. Her soul was exposed, and adrift a bottomless black ocean. She could not so much as scream. She was nothing. Worse than nothing, because she could still feel.

  Then, she ascended. Slowly, painfully, she rose. The black ether pulled at her flesh and hair. Light burned above her—dim and sickly. The constriction faded as the light grew into a thin line across her vision. She flew toward this strange horizon separating the blackness. It widened, and she understood she was looking at her closed eyelids. She fluttered them open.

  Gray light. The stink of salt and fish. The feel of rough, sodden wood beneath her prostrate body. Her memory returned in quick flashes—boarding the Cygnet, entering Swann’s cabin, and drinking the brandy.

  He'd drugged them.

  Rayna threw herself sideways, trying to sit up.

  Mina and Katrine lay together a tail-length away. They were in some small compartment, without furnishings and only a small porthole gazing over the twilight—or dawn—sea.

  The ship’s movement turned Rayna's stomach and she almost retched. She rolled to her other side and used the wall to push onto her knees.

  Strength returned with each shallow breath, but something was wrong. The scents were muted. Pain, different than the heaviness the poison inflicted, ran through her muscles, eating into her bones. Rayna recognized the sensation, but did not want to accept the explanation. She raised her shaking hands to her neck.

  Her fingertips brushed cold metal: a Monil.

  A sob wracked her body. She'd sworn she would never let anyone separate her from her wolf again—not after the way Garrison tortured her—but there was no escaping the cold, metallic reality clamped around her throat.

  Her cries roused Mina and Katrine. They rolled and stumbled into crouching positions.

  “What happened?” Mina croaked.

  “Swann,” Rayna rasped. She was hoarse with thirst. “He drugged us.”

  “Why would—” Katrine's eyes widened as her gaze found Rayna’s neck. Her hands flew to her own Monil. She yanked on the collar.

  “Katrine!” Rayna crawled to her. “It’s no use. Save your strength.”

  Katrine wailed, pounding her fists on the metallic band.

  Rayna and Mina grabbed Katrine's hands, forcing them down.

  “Take it off!” Katrine cried. “Rayna, please! You escaped one before. Help me, please!”

  The young Fenearen folded over Rayna’s lap.

  Rayna ran her shaky fingers through Katrine’s hair. “We’ll get out of them. We have to be patient. It’ll be all right, Katrine.”

  Katrine relaxed against her, though she sniffled with tears.

  Mina’s skin shone with sweat, and there was a greenish cast to her amber complexion. She had ingested more poison than Rayna and Katrine. “Why do you think Swann did this?”

  Rayna's thoughts turned sluggishly. Another porthole looked out on the ship’s dark innards. Swann had moved them below-deck. Why would Swann drug them, imprison them, and how did he have Monils? She remembered the unnerving crewmen, and Swann’s quick dismissal of his Corsair connections.

  “He’s a slaver,” said Rayna. “It’s the only explanation.”

  Mina nodded in grim agreement. She stumbled toward the door. “Locked, of course.” Mina slumped to the floor. “All that talk at the dinner about how Kyreans were 'flesh-peddlers,' how grateful he was for Seperun’s new trade laws…” Mina shook her head. “A cover, and we fell for it.”

  Katrine wiped her eyes. “Where is he taking us now?”

  “Exactly where we wanted to go, I suspect,” said Mina. “The best slave markets are in Halmstead.”

  A flash of white appeared through the interior porthole.

  Mina threw herself back to avoid being slammed by the door.

  Lord Swann entered the cabin. “Hello ladies, settling in well?”

  “You monster.” Rayna stood, wobbling. She pulled Katrine behind her.

  Mina leaped at Swann, but he dodged her unsteady attack easily. She fell to the floor and Swann kicked her against the ship’s wall.

  “Stop!” Rayna’s voice cracked as she put herself between Swann and the delirious Mina. She'd trained extensively in hand-to-hand combat to avoid the helplessness the Monil had forced upon her, but the drug’s effects still slowed her movements. As she measured her chances against Swann, the hallway behind him crowded with eager, leering crewmen.

  Katrine inched toward Mina. “Why are you doing this? We trusted you!”

  “You did. Thank you.” Swann’s smile took on a new, sinister quality Rayna had not recognized before. How long had he been planning this?

  “Why betray us?” Rayna willed her hands to stop shaking. “Who are you?”

  “I am Lord Alec Swann of Elkenford. I simply failed to mention this little trading operation. I've been supplementing my income for years. Although, I’ve had to be more discrete since the regime change.”

  “Trading operation? You’re a slaver. The lowest kind of filth,” growled Rayna.

  “That’s one opinion. Normally, I wouldn't tolerate such insolence from product, but Rayna, you are something special. Wouldn’t want to damage you.”

  “A Fenearen?” Nearly thirteen years earlier, Rayna’s mother had died to save her from being kidnapped into the slave trade. Fenearens were said to fetch a high price at the Kyrean flesh markets.

  “Your kind are quite lucrative. You're popular attractions in the fighting pits, and brothels charge a premium for Peninsular savages.”

  Rayna flinched at his casual cruelty.

  “But,” Swann continued, “that’s not my intention for you, Rayna Myana. You’re too scarred to be useful to a brothel, and I have a buyer with far deeper pockets than an arena overseer.”

  “You mean to turn me over to the Council.”

  “Not so foolish, are you?” He gestured to Mina. “You and Mignonette are worth the price of ten slaves to Councilor Terayan. Not to mention—as some of my fellow nobles pointed after the State dinner—your capture will solidify Kyrean aid, should someone seek to depose certain pretenders to the Demetrian throne.”

  Rayna exhaled, pushing the terror out with her breath. She'd escaped one attempt to turn her over to Terayan. She had outmaneuvered the man himself. She could again, but first she had to help the others. “Fine. If
that’s your intent, then when we reach land, let Katrine go free. The Council has no interest in her.”

  “Silly girl, weren’t you listening?” He flicked her nose. “Katrine is what? Fifteen years old? A young, nubile, unspoiled Fenearen?” He laughed and his crewmen echoed him. “The Council may have no interest in her, but I’d wager someone will pay a steep price for her.”

  “You’re despicable,” Mina said, her words slurring.

  “Don’t be jealous, dear. You’d be worth more than most on the markets yourself.”

  The Monil may have locked away the wolf, but Rayna still had her fists. Before Swann could say another disgusting word, she swung her right fist into his jaw.

  He staggered back but did not fall.

  “Mistake, Rayna.” Swan turned to strike back, but he pivoted, and the back of his hand connected squarely with Katrine’s jaw.

  She and Mina both tumbled to the floor.

  “A bruise won’t affect the price much.” Swann turned and left the cabin.

  Two of his men re-locked the door behind him.

  Rayna scrambled over to check on Katrine and Mina. Katrine’s lip was cut, but there was little blood.

  Mina shook her head, but waved off Rayna's concern. “Do you think Seperun knew?”

  “No,” Rayna said, “he couldn’t have. He would never have allowed us to interact with Swann at Anhorde if he suspected him. Besides, you heard Swann. He doesn't support the new government.”

  Katrine nodded. “I think Swann is very good at appearing honest. He tricked all of us, and it’s hard to fool a Fenearen into believing a lie.”

  “He never really lied to us. He told us his real name, and said he would provide us passage to Halmstead. He just left out that we would be prisoners,” said Mina.

  “I don’t understand,” said Katrine. “Why would people pay more for a Fenearen when the Monils don’t let us transform?”

  Mina shrugged. “Bragging rights? I’ve seen traders try to pass Kyrean slaves as Fenearens before—complete with fake Monils.”

  “No offense, Mina, but your country is horrid.” Rayna shook her head.

  Mina laughed. “None taken, believe me.”

  “Let’s rest for now. We’re on a ship full of slavers, in the middle of the sea.” Rayna leaned against the ship’s wall. “We’ll make our move once we’re on land, and have somewhere to run.”

  Katrine and Mina slept beside Rayna. Rayna could not find such release, though. She feared returning to the deep, dark sea in which the drug had sunken her.

  An hour or so after the sun had risen, the door slammed open once more, jolting Mina and Katrine awake. Three heavily armed crewmen strode in and grabbed each of them.

  “Swann wants you on deck.” The man holding Rayna he pushed her out of the cabin.

  She moved up the stairs obediently, not taking her eyes off the guard. Once on deck, the men forced Rayna, Mina, and Katrine into a line.

  Alec Swann appeared from his captain’s quarters. “Ladies, how are we feeling?”

  Rayna stiffened. Her body still felt wrong from the drug, but her strength had returned somewhat—and with it, her fury. “Let us go when we reach Halmstead, and I’ll let you live.”

  Swann and his men laughed.

  “Oh Rayna. Such passion. I swear, if you weren’t worth so much to the Council, I’d take you for my own—scars and all.” He grabbed her chin. “Do you know how satisfying it would be to bed you, then watch you shine my boots every morning?”

  Vile laughter raked her hearing. Rayna recoiled from his touch. “That's funny.” She glared from beneath her tangled red hair. “Do you know how immensely satisfying it would be to eat your liver while you watch?”

  Swann grinned. He grabbed her chin again, this time kissing her fully on the lips.

  Rayna gave a muffled scream as she broke away from the assault. She wiped her lips and gagged. “You will regret that.”

  Swann chuckled. “The more you hate me, the more I want you, love.” After letting his piercing gaze linger, he moved on to Katrine and Mina. Once their equally revolting inspections were complete, he returned to his cabin.

  “Any chance we can pull another sea monster trick here, Wolfie?” Mina glanced off the deck.

  Rayna closed her eyes, calling out to Sudmaris, the ancient leviathan that had once rescued them. She reached out to Alvo, Lumae, and all her gods for help.

  No voices answered her. Perhaps whatever was affecting her dreams compromised her other abilities.

  She shook her head.

  “On our own then,” said Mina.

  Swann reappeared from his cabin, carrying a strange rod. It was about a tail-length long, with Heitich runes inscribed along its length. One end had an orb containing a swirling, black mist. The other end flattened out into a square, carved with a spiral pattern.

  “No!” Mina cried out as she elbowed her guard. She ducked out of his grasp long enough for Swann to grab her.

  “I take it you know what this is?” He twisted Mina's arm behind her back.

  Rayna almost fought out of her own captor’s grasp, but restrained herself. They were weakened, outnumbered, in the middle of the ocean, and none of them knew how to sail. It would do no good to fight yet.

  “Aye,” Mina said to Swann. “And there is no way in hell you’re touching me with it.”

  “Care to explain?” Katrine glanced from Mina to the strange device.

  “This, my lovelies, is a Dor Pe’loch—a sweet piece of magic that leaves an irremovable mark. That way, if my product is ever stolen, I can prove it's mine,” Swann explained, admiring the rod.

  “Dor Pe’loch means ‘agony of naming.' It’s evil.” Mina’s normally cool voice trembled.

  “I’m impressed, Mina. The pain it inflicts is said to be unbearable, like being flayed alive.”

  “Why use this device?” Rayna demanded. “Why not use a normal brand?”

  “Because any old magic-user can remove something like a burn. But a mark from the Dor Pe’loch is much more complex. This beauty will mark you as mine—forever.”

  “You will pay for this, Swann.” Mina threatened, river-water eyes cold with rage.

  “Why don’t we start with you then, Miss Tsanclar? I’m sure the Council won’t mind if I put my mark on you.”

  “No! Take me!” Rayna shouted as Swann's men shoved Mina on her knees.

  Swann produced a tiny gleaming knife. He grabbed Mina's hair, exposing the back of her neck. He nicked Mina below her skull.

  Rayna hated herself for doing nothing. But, she could not risk an attack. Swann had reason to keep Rayna and Mina alive, but he might retaliate by hurting Katrine if they pushed him too far.

  Swann dripped Mina's blood onto the Dor Pe’loch's orb. The mist inside churned like thunder clouds, melting into a violent shade of purple. The color drained down the rod, lighting the inscription. Its flat end glowed blue, searing with heat. Swan plunged the Dor Pe’loch against Mina’s skin where he'd cut her.

  Mina screamed. She fell, writhing.

  “Mina!” Rayna struggled free from her captor. She rushed to her friend's side.

  The back of Mina’s neck twisted and bubbled. Her blood boiled beneath her skin, scalding her in the shape of the Dor Pe’loch’s spiraled end. Mina’s screams died to whimpers. The bloody scar cooled, swirling smoke into the salty air.

  “Shh. You'll be all right.” Rayna stroked Mina’s back.

  “Your turn.” Swann yanked Rayna's hair. He shoved her onto her hands and knees.

  Rayna shut her eyes as Swann cut her. She twitched, but far worse pain was coming.

  Swann pressed the Dor Pe'loch against the wound. The rod heated, but not enough to burn her. Swann pushed until Rayna’s forehead hit the ship’s deck.

  Rayna felt something, but it wasn’t pain. The rod shook.

  Swann drew back with a curse.

  The orb shattered in an explosion of glass and black mist.

  Rayna threw herself over Mi
na to protect her from the shards.

  Swann roared. He snapped the useless instrument in half. “Do you know how expensive that was?” He kicked Rayna off Mina.

  “Demonic magic.” Rayna spat blood. She'd cut her lip when Swann pushed her against the deck. Her divine magic—however weakened—must have been enough to counteract and destroy the Dor Pe'loch's evil energy.

  “Did you know that would happen?” Swann demanded.

  She hadn't, but he didn't need to know that. Rayna helped Mina stand. “Let us go, and I will let you live.”

  “Nice try.” Swann traced Rayna's jawline with the broken Dor Pe'loch. “You may not carry my mark, but you're still mine.”

  Rayna held Mina against her. If only Swann had taken Rayna first, Mina would have been spared. “I'm not your anything,” Rayna growled. “Except your death.”

  “We'll see.” Swann tossed the Dor Pe'loch halves overboard. “Lock them up.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Kado dreamed of the ocean. He floated over waves, buoyed by salty water. He dove down, deeper and deeper. Something glimmered red-and-gold on the seafloor. He grasped the shimmering treasure. He breached the surface, unwrapped his fingers, and revealed a ring. Strong arms pulled him aboard a ship that hadn’t been there a moment before. His mother and Isaac stood on the deck. They smiled, but did not speak.

  Kado awoke, drenched in what his mind first took for saltwater. It was sweat. He sat up in his pallet, clutching the ring around his neck.

  Isaac was dead.

  He'd been murdered like Kado's mother, and this bauble was all Kado had left of him. Perhaps the dream had been their way of saying they would soon see him again.

  Kado's final arena battle was set for the next day. He would face Kellan Kemar. Kado would die so that the other man could live. It felt right—as if he were re-paying Lonian’s sacrifice. In his short life, Kado had done nothing worthwhile. At least his death would be worth something.

  He tightened his grip on the ring. He'd only known Isaac a short time, but the old man was the closest anyone had come to a real father to him. Enzo Aronak, the slaver that raised him, forfeited any happy memories they shared when he'd betrayed Kado and his mother, Quella.