by Willa Hart
“Are you linked? Can you mind-link?” I ask her.
“We can, not as you Eliterrati do, but we can and we do with our Alpha.”
“So you know about Meela? Is she okay? Where is she? I must—”
Sharalla sighs. “First your arm, Professor, and then we’ll discuss Meela. Our Alpha wants to speak to you. I am not at liberty—”
“Not at liberty! She is…she is…” What is Meela to me? It feels as though she may be more than just Sarkany’s fated-mate, but as of now I’m still unsure. “She may be our Queen, and she is most definitely my brother’s fated-mate, which makes her a member of the Roya Royal house. I demand to see her.” I try to sound as serious and tough as I can, which is admittedly a lot less tough than this warrior-woman Wolveskin standing in front of me.
“You demand?” A low voice that rumbles much like Sarkany’s cuts through the hallway. “You are a guest in my lair, and you demand something of me and my Beta?”
I turn, and there in the doorway to the infirmary stands a giant—or what I’d call a giant if I wasn’t already aware that every human in this place is a Wolveskin. There are definitely not giants in the world…or are there?
“I’m Prince Taraz Roya, and it’s my duty to protect my brother’s fated-mate.” I pull myself to my full height. “She’s here, and I must see her.” I’ll go to the Goddess if I must, but I’ll go with some shred of honor; to shirk my responsibility simply because this giant is walking toward me—as big as Sarkany, and just as aggressive—is no reason to cower in fear.
He stops before me and pierces me with his warrior’s gaze, his brows pulled tight. “You are Taraz,” he says. His voice rumbles like thunder through a mountain.
“I am. And Meela is the fated-mate of my brother. And you?”
The corner of his mouth lifts with my question. My guess is that this giant of a Wolveskin doesn’t often need introduction.
“I am Rex, the Alpha of the Wolveskin.”
“Then this is your home, and it is you and your pack who saved me and my brother’s fated-mate.” I pause, then continue, “Thank you. I am in your debt.”
Rex’s right eyebrow lifts as though my words of gratitude were not what he expected from me.
“You’re welcome,” he says slowly. His gaze measures me as though trying to determine if my words are sincere.
“May I see Meela?”
“We should tend to your wound first,” he says. He nods to Sharalla who stands behind me.
“Yes, but I would feel more comfortable if I knew—”
Rex’s eyes laser in on me. “She’s alive,” he says. “But unwell. Please, let’s cast your broken bone and then I will take you to her. Our doctor is trying to clean her wound and”—he glances away from me and meets Sharalla’s gaze—“save her leg.”
A sick and queasy feeling winds through my belly with his words, and I fight to maintain a neutral expression.
“This was not a normal cut from a knife,” Rex continues. “This wound was designed to kill.”
I take a step back with Rex’s words.
“Whomever attacked you and your brothers poisoned the blades. It was their intent that none of you should survive that battle.”
My heart drops and I swallow. My gaze meets Rex’s. “Then that would mean that my brothers are dead.”
Chapter Five
Meela
Darkness. I ride the wolf through the night in an open field. The Dark Forest waits in the distance. Above me is only starlight. Beneath me the powerful beast glides forward as though I ride the wind.
“Meela,” a soft and gentle voice that I have a faint memory of hearing before asks, “do you remember where you come from?”
I can’t remember who the owner of this voice is.My memories are shrouded, and I can’t grasp the tendril in my mind of what is meant to come to me now.
In the distance, through the mist that lies over the fields, on the edge of the forest in front of us, two figures stand. I can’t see their faces—they are too far from me, but I feel as though I know them. They both wave to me.
Can we go to them? Please, I beg the wolf beneath me, I need to see them.
Silence is the only response. We move ever faster toward them.
We draw closer to them, and I know that they are my mother and father. They wave to me, and a smile breaks across their faces. They want me to come to them. Another figure walks up beside them; this one with long flowing blonde hair that glistens in the moonlight…it is Huali! My sister. She stands with our parents. How is Huali already with them? Why did Mother and Father take Huali and leave me behind?
“Meela.” My mother’s voice breaks into my mind. “Meela, we’re waiting for you.”
“Mama,” I say, “Oh Mama, I want to hear your voice and feel your arms wrap around me…please hold me close, Mama. Let me get to you!”
Can we hurry? I think, hoping the wolf beneath me can hear my thoughts.
Your destiny is not with them, Princess, the wolf’s voice breaks into my mind. Not yet.
The beast between my legs veers to the left and turns away from Mama and Papa and Huali.
“No,” I call. “No!” I start to jump off the wolf’s back. To run to my family, my parents, my sister and all that I love and all that I want. Please, please, please, let me go to my family! Let me feel my mother’s arms around me, please let me have what I want! There is only the heat of tears on my face as they roll down my cheeks.
That is not your fate. You must fulfill the prophesy.
And with the wolf’s words, darkness swallows me whole again.
`
Chapter Six
Sarkany
Silver is the moon as I fly through the night on the back of a giant creature. Alive and free, I soar as if I can fly, with my beloved forest beneath me. Yes, yes, yes, I am free, I am alive, I am with Meela. My Meela, her warm body in front of me on the back of this giant beast.
Meela?
My eyes jerk open and my heart surges and pulls through my body. I yank at the iron cuff that binds my wrist to the prison wall. The cold press of hard stone against my back.
My little bird, where are you? Leo? Taraz? I call out with my mind to my fated-mate and my two brothers. Are any of you—
I’m here.
Leo? Where? Where are you? I jerk my head around, trying to see something, anything, through the darkness in this desolate cell. There is no light. No window. Only the stone behind my fist and beneath my body. I have no memory of when I got here or how long I’ve been imprisoned.
I believe, Leo thinks, that I’m in the cell beside you. Leo presses his thoughts into my mind. Are you beneath the castle?
I was unconscious when they brought me here, I think, and you?
Very much awake, Leo thinks. Have you seen Uncle yet?
No, I think. You?
No.
Taraz? I think. Hopeful that if I’ve not heard a mind-call from our other brother, perhaps Leo has.
Nothing, Leo thinks. Feelings of fear and melancholy accompany Leo’s thoughts. Leo is as afraid as I am, that Taraz neither escaped nor was brought back to the palace alive.
And…Meela? Leo thinks.
Nothing, I think. I press my palm to my forehead. Only one hand is free; how wise of Uncle, for if both were available to me… My rage beats so deeply that I’d rend my cell door off its hinges. Uncle must have control of The Counsel if we’re in the dungeons beneath the castle. I think.
Or no one knows that we’re here, Leo thinks.
Have you tried to communicate with anyone? With Lady Alana? I think.
There’s been a block surrounding me, but if we seek her out together and send a joint tendril we may be able to amplify and break through the block, Leo thinks.
What shall we tell her? I think.
That we are locked beneath the castle, prisoners of our Uncle, Leo thinks. Ready?
Ready.
We unite into one mind and send a tendril out to Lady Alana. Upon hearing us, she open
s her mind.
You are alive! But where? Where are you? Lady Alana openly disregards the laws and rules of our Kingdom and communicates with us by mind. This is how I know the state of the Kingdom and our future as its Kings is dire.
Locked beneath the Palace, Leo thinks. And you?
Your Uncle has called an emergency meeting of The Counsel to deal with the Dreg uprising and the attempted Coup D’état, Lady Alana thinks. You’re within my mind; watch and listen for yourselves.
It is a gift she gives Leo and me by allowing us to inhabit her vision and see what she sees and hear what she hears.
Lady Alana sits in her Counsel seat, at the center of the half-oval Counsel table. On her left is Lord Saranshov, a short man but thick with muscle. He has dark curly hair and a mustache and beard, from Province Beriruss. Lord Saranshov is Eliterrati and his sister is the ruler of his province. To the right of Lady Alanna is Lady Zactuch from Province Zintou, perhaps the shrewdest of The Counsel members; she was old when our mother was a child. There are nine Counsel members total and each represents a different province within the Kingdom. All are present. Lady Alana was appointed by our mother for our province with the special title of Lady Regent as well as being a Counsel member. In the center of the half-oval—the well—stands Uncle Vlissimal. He wears Roya purple and the insignia of the Roya Regent on his chest. His words echo against The Chamber walls.
“Under the sway of a Ninaku Dreg, the three Roya brothers have committed treason. We have captured two of the brothers, but the third brother, Taraz, is still at large.
At least he’s not dead, Leo thinks.
“He is thought to be with the very Dreg with whom Prince Sarkany Roya committed blood treason.”
Whispers ripple through The Chamber. Blood treason, the inter-mingling of Eliterrati and Dreg blood, is a high crime and act of treason within our Kingdom.
“Regent Roya,” Lady Alana says. “We wish to see the captive Roya Princes. It’s imperative that we speak to them. To hold an inquisition. It is our right to—”
“Right?” Vlissimal turns and faces Lady Alana. Rage twists his mouth and his eyes blaze with hate. “Right?” Vlissimal bellows. “We are under attack, Lady Alana. The Counsel has declared Martial Law, and you, Lady Alana, have no rights. You can thank the traitorous Roya brothers for that.”
Uncle stands in front of Lady Alana, and his eyes—dark brown, so similar to our mother’s—peer into Lady Alana’s eyes. For a moment, fear pulses within me. Fear that Uncle knows that Lady Alana has provided Leo and me access, through her mind, to The Counsel and The Chamber.
“Shall I remind you of the facts, Lady Alana?” Uncle asks. “First the Roya brothers order me and the army to cleanse the North, but little did I know, at least not until we discovered their treason, that these orders were the direct result of a fixation, an obsession, with a Ninaku Dreg who bears The Curse.” Uncle lifts an eyebrow and stares at the other eight Counsel members. “Once this treason was discovered, I returned to the Palace and left my daughter on the Northern Throne to act as The Counsel’s law until we could find the Princes and determine if anything could be done to save their minds.”
“Regent Vlissimal,” Lady Alanna interrupts. “Is it your testimony that you started The Cleanse in the North at the behest of the Princes?”
Uncle turns on his heels and draws closer to Lady Alana. Within his eyes is the urge to kill. To strike her down, to make her be silent. He puffs out his chest and draws up to his full height as though to intimidate the Lady into silence.
Lady Alana is not easily intimidated.
“Is it not a violation of your duty as Regent to engage in military actions based on the Princes’ request?” Lady Alana asks. “You are their Regent. You are not to take orders from them; in fact, it is our understanding of the law that you have no power to take any military action without the full and informed consent of this Counsel.”
Uncle’s nostrils flare and he steps even closer to the Counsel table. “We were under attack,” he says, rage underlining his words.
“There were no shots fired, no bombs detonated. In fact, there was no uprising in the North until after your unauthorized Cleanse began. At least, that is the report that this Counsel received from our intelligence operatives.”
“You have no understanding of military affairs! How could you, a Lady, have any—”
“Need I remind you, Regent Vlissimal,” Lady Alana continues, “that I fought beside our Queen in the Southern Wars and I did, in fact, carry the designation of Master General. So please, do not mischaracterize my ability, knowledge, or capability to understand military operations.”
Uncle takes one step back. His lips form a grim line.
“Ah, yes, I do now remember your service to our deceased Queen. She too bore a misguided fondness for the Dregs and wished to see them mainstreamed into society. Worked out quite well for her, did it not?”
Lady Alana takes a deep breath and steels herself. Rage and distrust pulse through her, and beneath all these feelings, sadness for Uncle and his beliefs and his words de-valuing his sister, my mother the Queen, and the equality she desired, fought, and eventually died for.
“Our Queen was willing to die for the principles she held dear and I, Lord Regent, was more than willing to die for her…as I am still.”
“Ah, dying for the misguided…to be a martyr for a cause that is both illegal and immoral? The mixing of Dreg and Eliterrati? How so very quaint of you.” Uncle looks upon Lady Alana with distaste.
“Lord Regent, I demand to see both Prince Sarkany and Prince Leo,” Lady Alana says. “It is the right of this Counsel to determine whether the Princes are guilty of the treason of which you so easily and summarily convict them. To sentence the Princes to death is to obfuscate the laws and rules that our Kingdom holds so dear. Bring us the Roya brothers that you have imprisoned and condemned to die.”
“I will not,” Uncle says.
Mumbles pass between Counsel members and Lady Alana leans close to Lord Saranshov who whispers in her ear, “It is not the Princes who bear the mark of a traitor, but in fact it is the Lord Regent.”
Lady Alana sighs, “Lord Regent, is it your position that you are not required by law to provide us with the Roya Princes so that we might make inquiry as to the events and their state of mind? That you have the authority to deny The Counsel’s request?”
“No, Lady Alana, it is my position that to obey The Counsel’s request would put The Counsel at great risk of harm,” Vlissimal says.
“Harm? How so?” Lord Saranshov asks.
Uncle turns from Lady Alana and paces to the center of the well. He looks at each Counsel member in turn. “Nothing can be done to save the Brothers Roya. Their minds”—he shakes his head and closes his eyes. Uncle breathes deep and wipes his finger beneath his eye as though scrubbing away a tear—“have been fully corrupted by the Ninaku Dreg and the only option is to…”
“Surely, Regent Vlissimal, you can’t expect The Counsel to agree to such a thing without a thorough examination of Prince Leo and Prince Sarkany?”
“To examine them is to risk further infection,” Uncle says.
“Infection?” Lord Saranshov says. “What kind of infection?”
“The Curse…has…it has evolved,” Uncle says.
“What do you mean by evolved?” Lady Zatuch asks.
“The Royal Doctor believes that The Curse carried by the Ninaku Dreg that infected the Princes can…can infect anyone who comes in contact with them.”
“What? I’ve never heard of anything so outrageous!” Lord Saranshov says. “Are you saying that just by being in the same room as the Princes that one’s mind can be infected and cause irrevocable damage?”
“I am.” Uncle says. “Do you need proof?”
“What kind of proof?”
Uncle turns to the Royal guard at the door. “Bring in the Dreg,” Uncle says, then turns back to Lord Saranshov. “The disease is passed from Dreg to Dreg, unless of c
ourse, as Sarkany did, you commit blood treason and mate with a Dreg, then and only then with such mental and physical connection can the disease pass from Dreg to Eliterrati. But once in an Eliterrati mind?” Uncle raises his shoulders and shakes his head. “Well, then…the doctors suspect that The Curse can travel from any Eliterrati mind that the Princes might send a tendril to. Now you shall see what this infection does to a Dreg mind, and perhaps you can then understand what has happened to the Princes.”
The door opens and two guards enter. They turn toward The Counsel and—
Oh no, I think. No, no, no…it cannot be, it must not be…
Is that?
Oh yes, I believe it may be…it is…Meela’s sister, Huali.
Her arms are bound behind her back. She wears a filthy rag. Her mouth is gagged. She is wild-eyed and filled with fear. Her blonde hair is matted and in knots.
“This Dreg,” Uncle continues, “is bound and gagged because she is the sibling to the Ninaku Dreg who infected the Princes and committed blood treason with Prince Sarkany.” The guards each grasp one of Huali’s arms, and Uncle walks around her as though examining a wild animal. “Please note the madness in her eyes, how her gaze darts about the room. She is clearly distraught. Unruly. Unbound.”
“She’s terrified,” shouts Lady Alana. “You’ve stripped this girl and obviously whipped her. I wonder, Vlissimal, what else have you done to her?”
“Done? Ha! I’ve done nothing but sought to root out the infection in her mind. See for yourself.” Vlissimal closes his eyes.
Huali drops to the floor and her body twitches and jerks. Drool runs from around her gag. Her eyes fixate on the far wall. Her hands still tied behind her, her head jerks back and forth as she writhes on the floor.
We must make him stop! I think.
We cannot, Leo thinks. To do so would expose Lady Alana and—
We must, this is my fated-mate’s sister!
It is not a choice that can be made now, Leo thinks. Lady Alana shall die if we attempt to stop Uncle now.
Brother, you are a ruthless bastard! Have you no compassion? No empathy?
