Tears pooled in her eyes, and tiny whimpers sounded behind her. Emma turned, seeing a small girl of only seven or eight with blond curls and bright blue eyes pleading with Emma to spare her. She saw a dozen pairs of eyes wide with terror as her flames burst to life around her, and around their small bodies.
Emma screamed, but no sound came out. She screamed, and clawed at the ropes, and ran toward the children, but her feet weren’t moving. She reached for them, trying to save them, but it was already too late. The undulating tongues of blue, orange, and yellow had already lapped up the last of them.
She screamed again, turning on her father. But he was no longer there. Up on the throne, casually lounging, was the Dark King. His billowing darkness tumbled and curled over the throne, hiding nearly all of him from view, though she could make out the rough outline of him. And his devastatingly beautiful face with sharp cheekbones and pointed chin focused on her. His shadows caressed his face and wrapped around the top of his head. His black hair was bone-straight, falling somewhere past his shoulders. He was mesmerizing. She wanted to look at him forever, but the sight of him hurt her eyes. Like a star had fallen from the sky and walked upright as a man. That was the King of Death.
Then, his dazzling silver eyes turned to the girl beside his throne who looked exactly like Emma. But her features were harder. Sharper. Eyes filled with cruelty, she wore a crown that matched the king’s. His shadows stretched over her too and wrapped up her legs, though she didn’t seem to notice, or care.
Emma couldn’t speak; she could only stare at the chilling likeness that stared back at her. Nakosh trailed his long, slender fingers over the other Emma’s arm, but she was the one that shivered.
The king smiled, wide and terrifying. Then his icy voice filled her mind.“Don’t you look lovely in a crown?”
Emma awoke with a jolt. Her throat burned, and she was sure she had been screaming. But Blaze didn’t rush into her room to comfort her. He never came at all, but she could feel his presence near. As if he stood on the other side of the door, debating whether to see if she was all right.
She was glad he didn’t, though. Turning onto her stomach, she buried her face into her pillow and wept.
She didn’t train with Blaze the next morning, but she did attend the meeting. The mark had forced her out of bed and down the stairs, but she’d wrestled against it outside the door until the pain had become so great, she gasped.
Entering the room several minutes late, she noticed everyone’s eyes sweep over her in curiosity or confusion. Blaze was especially stunned, stopping midsentence.
“Sorry, please continue,” she said, taking a seat between Gertie and Axel while flushing with embarrassment.
Blaze straightened, clearing his throat. Before he continued, she saw the faintest curve of his lips. He was pleased she’d made an effort to interact with people again.
It made her sick to her stomach to know that he thought this was her breaking out of her metaphorical shell. That this was her beating back the darkness that consumed her. What he didn’t know is that she’d just brought the darkness into the room. It waited within her, cataloging any and every piece of information that could be used against the Giborim.
In her lap, her hands balled into fists. Listening to Blaze report on the suspected and confirmed Shediem activity around the globe was one thing. But when another man—Donovan, she thought his name was—began listing the locations of other communities of Giborim and covens of Spellcasters who had confirmed they were preparing to fight, she wished she could tune him out.
Blaze stood, taking back the attention of the room. His expression was hard and emotionless when he said, “It was confirmed this morning that the White House was breached and the president all the way down to attorney general were found dead. With the others in line dead as well, there is no known chain of command any longer.”
Emma’s stomach plummeted, her lips parting on a sharp inhale.
“The humans are calling for a vote while others are trying to elect a leader in their own states. Stores are closing down due to the violence, and many places have lost power. We have people to work on providing backup power as most everyone will freeze to death without it. Of course, we experienced that here much sooner due to King Nakosh’s message.” Blaze’s eyes met Emma’s.
“What message?” she asked the eerily silent room. Not even Silas, Blaze’s tall, wiry uncle who looked to be in his late thirties, spoke.
“Can you play it?” Blaze asked Donovan, who nodded, tapping frantically on the iPad screen before him.
A crackling sound came from the device, then a familiar voice that clinked like ice—yet caressed the senses—said,“Humans.” Another series of cracks and pops echoed through the room before Nakosh continued. “By now, you will have guessed that your world is under attack.”
Emma’s heart rate spiked, her breaths coming faster.
“It is true,” the King of Darkness purred as seductively as a lover. “I am the king of a race of superior beings, called the Shediem. Soon there will be a war that will kill many of you. I give you now a choice. When your princes arrive, fall at their feet and pledge your loyalty to them…or you will die.”
The crackling sounded again, ending with a high-pitched squeal that made everyone cover their ears. Then there was silence.
Emma swallowed hard, looking to Blaze.“This transmission went out globally?”
He nodded.
“When?”
“A little over two weeks ago,” Donovan answered, checking his screen.
When she was still in Sheol.
Her gaze snapped back to Blaze and stayed there, searching his face.“Why are you only just now telling me this?”
He huffed a humorless laugh.“You know why.”
Because she’d been a husk of her usual self since she’d returned. Because she’d remained hidden to avoid inadvertently spying for her father. Because deep down, there was an overwhelming sense of guilt that plagued her at every moment.
She’d gone to Sheol to save her mother.
Instead, she’d returned a puppet and her father held her strings.
He’d promised that she’d kill them all, and she couldn’t allow that. If she had been stronger, maybe she’d have put as much distance as she possibly could between herself and the compound. When she’d appeared at the gates, she could have turned around and walked away. Perhaps it wouldn’t have lasted long, but she could have at least tried.
Or maybe, running away from Blaze would have forced her father to command her to slit each of their throats in their sleep.
Either way, it was her fault. What was to come was her fault.
“I’m sorry,” Emma whispered. Not just to Blaze, but to everyone in the room.
Silas leaned forward. “Well, you seem well recovered after many weeks back being fed and clothed by the kindness of my nephew here. Perhaps you’d now like to tell us what took place in Sheol?”
An invisible hand wrapped around her mouth, holding back every possible response. Wincing at the bite of pain that zipped down her spine, she shook her head.“I’m sorry,” she said again.
Silas scoffed. “You say those words an awful lot and never seem to mean them,” he sneered. “Perhaps you’re really one of them now and won’t tell us anything because you’re protecting them. Is that it?”
“Uncle,” Blaze warned.
Emma gaped at Silas’s accusation.“I would never—”
The words vanished from her mouth and she snapped her jaw shut. Bolts of searing pain flared in her shoulder where her father had placed the mark. It radiated through every vertebra, and her back bowed.
“That’s enough!” Sergei barked from the other side of the table, rushing to Emma’s side.
She wheezed, steadying herself with her hands flat on the table. Blaze’s eyes were wide—everyone’s were.
Sergei rubbed her back in soothing circles while she steadied her breath.Was she not allowed to speak ill of the Shediem
now? If that were the case, she’d be in agony multiple times a day.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated. The next words came out without her permission, flat and robotic even to her own ears.“I had…I had a spasm.”
“Demon,” Silas breathed, the shock on his face morphing to hate. He pointed at her, spittle flying as he bellowed, “She shouldn’t be here!”
“Uncle!” Blaze barked. He nodded to his brother, and both he and Dominic rose to haul Silas out.
She watched in horror, the room quieting once more.
To Emma, Blaze said, “Do you need to go lie down or are you okay to hear the last order of business?”
There was something in his expression that alarmed her.He knows there’s something wrong with me, she thought. Her back still ached from the sudden burst of pain. What would happen if Blaze figured out she took a Shediem mark that controlled her words and her actions with a single thought? Would he die? Would her father know?
She wasn’t terribly eager to find out.
Emma gave Sergei a weak smile over her shoulder. In his wise gaze, she saw something worse than understanding: sympathy.
With a nod, he returned to his seat, though she still felt his eyes on her. Under the table, Gertie patted her hand, but Emma ignored her, unable to face anyone else’s pity.
“While we’ve sent communications to every Spellcaster coven we know of, many have moved underground. They’re unreachable. I propose that several teams be sent to request an alliance in person. Gertie has contacts in New Orleans and Sergei has many throughout Europe and Asia.
“I’d like Gertie and Sergei to be accompanied by at least three people as they journey to their separate locations to recruit their contacts.”
Axel and Dominic reentered the room, but Silas did not.
“I’ll go of course,” Axel said.
Sergei lifted his hand into the air, speaking before Blaze had time to acknowledge him. “May I recommend that Gertie and I travel together on our quests? There is a certain level of unity among Spellcasters. Waltzing in with one Spellcaster and a host of Giborim may appear like coercion.”
Gertie nodded. “That is quite true. My contacts are not disloyal to the Giborim; however, they’ve had reason to mistrust you.” She smiled sadly. “It would be beneficial to bring as few Giborim as possible. And Emma should go as well.”
Her eyes flew wide.“Wait, what?”
Blaze narrowed his gaze on her. “Something wrong?” He sounded genuinely concerned, but Emma still heard the underlying bite of anger.
He was angry—and rightfully so—that she was keeping secrets, but she couldn’t deny the sting of having his anger directed at her.
“I’m just not sure why it would make sense for me to go. My mom is a Giborim.”
“But your father is not,” Gertie replied, addressing the elephant in the room. Everyone knew it. In fact, she was almost certain that everyone knew her father was a Shediem, but that was something the mark would not allow her to confirm.
She swallowed hard with a small nod.
Blaze’s steely blue eyes bored into her as though he could see inside her mind and lay bare all her hidden truths. She almost wished he could.
“It’s decided then,” he announced. “Myself, my brother, Emma, Sergei, and Gertie will depart for New Orleans the day after the engagement party. You’re all dismissed.”
Emma leapt to her feet, determined to make it out of the room before anyone could corner her, but she was not so lucky.
Blaze’s hand gripped her arm and yanked her around to face him. Sergei lingered in the doorway that Emma glanced at with longing. The Spellcaster clearly debated whether to intervene or not, but one cutting look from Blaze made him sigh before stalking from the room.
“What was that about?” Blaze growled.
“What?” Emma snapped with a surge of anger she didn’t understand. Sucking in a breath, she calmed the rage, but Blaze clearly saw and felt it.
“What happened, Emma? You can’t say nothing, ’cause there’s something off. You’re different. You hide away, you won’t say anything about what happened other than the fact that you failed to save your mother but she’s alive, and then…” He took a steadying breath, his body beginning to tremble.“It was like you physically couldn’t say whatever you were going to say.”
Emma didn’t respond. Didn’t react.
His eyes cut back and forth, searching her face for a hint or a sign that she was correct. She couldn’t risk him finding out without knowing what would happen to him if he did. For all she knew, the mark would instantly kill anyone who figured out the truth.
“Am I right?” he demanded.
“Blaze,” she whispered, reaching for him.
He jerked away, glaring down at her. “Why won’t you tell me anything, Emma? Is what my uncle said true? Are you one of them?”
His words hit harder than a physical blow, and she stumbled back. Pain erupted in her shoulder, warning her away from trying to answer.
“Why would you say that?” she asked, her chest heaving while angry tears filled her eyes. She wanted to reassure him, to tell him everything.
Instead, she was forced to endure his anger. His accusations.
“I don’t know, it’s like you’re a completely different person. But whatever is going on with you, I’ll figure it out. Mark my words—I’ve spent my entire life hunting down the truth. You can’t hide your secrets forever. And until I do, you better expect to have me at your side every waking moment. I’m not going to let you out of my sight. My people need my protection, even if it’s from you.”
Emma was almost too stunned to speak. She knew each word came from a place of desperation, a way to provoke her into opening up. But she couldn’t.
“I’d never intentionally hurt them, or you,” she said, and expected pain. But it didn’t come. A breath of relief rushed out of her, and she couldn’t help the smile that curved her lips.
Blaze’s shoulders sagged. Wordlessly he pulled her into a crushing hug.
The pent-up anger and frustration drained from them both. She relaxed in his embrace, his fresh scent of pine and soap wrapping around her. For a moment she was able to let go of the weight of guilt and despair. For a moment their fragile trust felt strengthened by their strange bond. It was more than friendship, yet she wasn’t quite sure what it was.
She yearned to define it. To finally put a label on whatever they were, but she knew that she couldn’t now. Not until she found a way to be free of her father’s hold.
If she ever did.
No, she silently reprimanded herself. I will be free. I won’t be his slave forever.
Despite Blaze’s earlier threat to remain by her side, it wasn’t long until he was called away to the training room. Not wanting to return to her room, she stopped by to meet the new girl, Breanna.
She knocked gently, hoping not to disturb the baby if it was asleep. After a moment the door creaked open just wide enough for a young, pretty face to appear. She was likely only a year or two older than Emma. Her light brown eyes were guarded.
“Hi,” Emma greeted her.“I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Emma.”
The girl eyed her for a moment before answering. “I’m Breanna.”
A shrill cry rang out from inside the room and Breanna whipped around, panic creasing her face. She sighed. “That’s Isaac. I’m sorry, I’ve got to go.”
“Okay,” Emma replied.“Well if you ever want any company, my room is upstairs to the right, the second-to-last door on the left.”
The girl nodded distractedly as the baby continued to fuss. Without another word she closed the door in Emma’s face.
The rest of the week, Emma continued to research the mark, or anything resembling it, and trained alone. Though Blaze observed from his perch against the wall, he didn’t offer to train with her. The way he watched her intently had her temperature spiking.
She knew he was only making good on his promise, but they rarely spoke, an
d the bars on her cage tightened ever closer.
On Friday morning, after training, she arrived back in her room to a large box sitting on her bed. She ran a finger over the violet satin ribbon before untying the bow and pulling off the lid.
Inside was a silky, emerald-green dress that matched her eyes. It shimmered as the wintery sunlight that poured into her room kissed the fabric. Emma held it up, noting the sweetheart neckline and knee-high slit on one side with a frown.
The dress was beautiful and not inappropriate, but the heavy feeling in her chest reminded her of when she’d been dressed in Sheol for everyone’s entertainment. The small, rational voice inside her head told her this was just Blaze being kind. The dress had to cost a small fortune, and she needed something nice to wear to the engagement party this evening. Pushing aside her irrational fears, she gently laid the dress aside and typed a quick thank you to Blaze on her phone.
It was nearly an hour later when she received his short reply: Yo u ’re we l co m e .
To occupy her time before the party, Emma showered, then went downstairs to see Breanna. Blaze stood in the foyer, talking with a few soldiers as well as his brother, but his eyes locked on Emma. Even as she turned from him and crossed to Breanna’s door she felt the heat of his gaze.
Emma knocked once and waited.
Pulling the door open a scant few inches and seeing it was her, Breanna opened it further, her eyes nervously flicking to the men standing in the foyer.
“I was wondering if you wanted any help getting ready for tonight,” Emma offered.
“I’m not going,” the girl firmly declared, a sleeping bundle cradled in her arms.
“Why not?” Emma asked.
Breanna turned and walked back into the room, leaving the door open for Emma to follow. Milk stains and empty bottles littered the small space. Breanna’s hair was in desperate need of a wash and tiredness lined her eyes. The poor girl needed a hot shower and a long nap.
“Because I don’t really know anyone, and besides, I can’t bring him along.” She nodded at the tiny babe fast asleep on her shoulder. His plump lips were parted in sleep.
The Throne of Broken Bones (Weapon of Fire and Ash Book 3) Page 8
