by Stacy Reid
She regretted speaking. The silence pressed in on her, suffocating. She strained to see where the Darkan was. Saieke saw nothing. Worse, she heard nothing. The insufferable barbarian.
“Say something, please,” she whispered hoarsely.
Drac’s beast rumbled as another burst of fear leaped from the princess. He surmised it was the darkness. It could have that effect on the senses. He did not react as her hand caught his trousers and held on with a tight grip.
Alerting Gidon of their bargain was imperative. When she uttered those words, something inside Drac had stilled. Their queen had died hoping for a swallow of the elixir to heal her. And now, to be promised jars bordered on miraculous. It was a precious and valuable commodity the kingdom of Boreas possessed—the healing elixir. With it, they had power, might, and a potent bargaining chip. It also made the country susceptible to an invasion in times of war.
He had to capitalize on the opportunity her panicked offer presented. He did briefly wonder why Mevia pursued her, and why was she so far from home. He was not even sure if she was the Princess of Boreas, as he had never been to a court outside his kingdom. They needed it established and an oath drawn.
The only thing Drac was sure of was the immediacy with which she fascinated him. She was beautiful, but her scent intrigued him the most—wild wind with a hint of honey. He drank in her beauty, the arch of her neck as she strained to see him. Drac felt the instinctive lunge again inside, and he tightened his gut against the rush of feeling.
“Say something,” her gasp, husky with fear tugged at the beast buried in him.
He shifted, and the princess stumbled into him, and her breath hitched. It traveled through his body, a whisper in the dark, caressing against his skin like silk. He supposed he was not treating her like a princess. Gidon would roar in rage if she were to arrive in shambles. This was an opportunity to have a kingdom in their debt, and he would exploit it mercilessly to suit their needs.
“It must be confirmed if you are the Princess of Boreas and if you have authority to make such an honor bargain.”
Her eyes widened, almost eclipsing her face. Drac tracked the tongue that darted out to wet her lips. His cock jerked in reaction, and he had to contain a snarl ruthlessly.
“I am the princess.”
Her voice shook with anxiety. There was nothing Drac could do about that, so he wasted no time offering soothing words. She slipped her hands into the hidden folds of her caftan and withdrew her armband. She held it up with a hand that trembled, before slipping it on to her right arm. It was a gold armband filled with precious gems and rubies with her insignia as the Princess. It signified her status and power, the intricate design showing she was the heir to the throne.
Satisfaction settled in his gut. Possessing the elixir would give his people the opportunity to heal the crack in their psyche when their beasts took control. Gidon had always theorized how they could obtain one jar of the elixir. To now be promised several jars. A smile curved Drac’s lips at their fortune. It was long awaited. “I take you not to your death or torture, Princess, but to my king. If it is proven you are the princess, you are safe.”
He knew she could not see him in the dark, yet her eyes roamed his face as if she could. Her eyes were indeed the purest of blue—azure blended with sapphire, and the most enthralling he had ever seen. They narrowed, and a hint of anger flavored her chakra.
“And if your king determines I am not the princess?”
He grunted, ignoring her question, then spun and kept walking.
“And if your king determines I am not the princess?” her tone held imperious command.
Drac smiled, pleased with the lessening of her fear. She stumbled again pressing into his back. He hissed at the feeling of her breasts. Her caftan contoured seamlessly to her body, and he could feel every sleek curve. Arousal stirred deep inside when she brushed against him again, and he could feel the outline of her nipples. He ignored her reaction and the whisper that slid against his mind.
Take. It taunted.
He would deliver her to Gidon, outline the terms of their bargain, and let him as the Ricarkri sort it out. Drac’s only need was to find the assassins of the fallen king. Drac glided around the princess and swung her in his arms, moving with speed to deliver her to castle Kerberos.
Saieke’s gasp of fright broke off, the wind choking her breathing. She belatedly realized the Darkan held her in his arms, moving at a speed that defied comprehension. She squeezed her eyes shut to prevent the dizziness from overcoming her. Her head spun, and her empty stomach roiled. Interminable minutes passed before he came to a stop, and she stumbled as he set her down.
Saieke's breath exploded on a hoarse gasp, and it took precious seconds to gather her composure. She stood in a great hall of immense proportions. Dozens of great torches adorned the walls, lighting the castle. She twisted sharply and came face to face with her rescuer. Obsidian eyes, devoid of emotion, returned her regard unflinchingly, and Saieke felt as if she stared down the abyss of darkness. She sucked in an audible breath, and heat climbed her neck. He was so dark, yet pale. He donned black trousers, silver undershirt, and black waistcoat. His hair, the color of midnight, was shorn close to his scalp, his skin so pale Saieke swore she could see a spidery network of veins, but it was his eyes that caused her heart to jerk in its erratic pattern—they gazed cold and pitiless.
He stood lean and sleek with coiled muscles like the great cats in her courtyard. He should be beautiful, but that was an impossible description for him. The blades of his face were sharp, and there was a slant to his lips that screamed viciousness. The black mark that ran from his temple and curved down to stop at his cheekbone was in stark contrast to his pale skin.
Predator. No doubt existed in Saieke’s mind. She inhaled to steady her nerves and the pounding of her heart. For it was a war drum in her ears. He had to hear it with the reputed enhanced hearing of Darkans. She prayed that was a rumor. At the gentle clearing of a throat, she spun around and nearly fainted. In front of her stood another Darkan. Her heart rate doubled as trepidation sank in and built steadily.
“Drac, report,” the man commanded.
His name was Drac.
"The Princess, who is the heir to the Borean throne, was pursued by the Mevia Empire into our territory, and she bargained for sanctuary.”
“Bargained?” the newcomer's silver eyes blazed as he asked the question.
“Sanctuary for several jars of her kingdom’s elixir, and I accepted.” The inflection in her rescuer’s voice indicated deep satisfaction.
Saieke schooled her expression as the Darkan stepped forward and executed a sharp bow. His eyes flicked to her armband and over her in a quick, but thorough, assessment. She hated the stab of dread his swift appraisal wrought.
“Princess Saieke El Shyokara of Boreas, welcome to our kingdom,” he greeted. “I am Gidon Al Shra, King, and Ricarkri of the Darkage.” Eyes the color of liquid mercury captured hers and the power that emanated from the king slapped at her.
Saieke dipped into a curtsy, her stomach knotting in hard cramps of fear because he knew her name and title, enough to greet her, yet she had not known the Darkage had a king. “Thank you for your greetings and sanctuary, King Gidon Al Shra. My kingdom thanks you for your generosity.”
She straightened in time to see a hard smile slash his lips. He would have felt her fear. At least she thought so. Rumors be damned. Her ignorance of their true nature increased her heart rate in bounds.
“Follow me, Princess. We will see to your comfort and speak more on this bargain.” He walked away down the hall, strutting with grace and power rolled together in one package.
A soft sigh escaped her lips as she followed the king, refusing to look behind her to see if her rescuer followed. She was relieved that the king accorded her the honor befitting her rank. The stories she had grown up on had led her to believe Darkans were huge hulking beasts with black eyes and fangs, and they lived in caves and holes in the
ground.
The appearance of the castle also profoundly shocked her. Several torches illuminated the interior, throwing its beauty into stark relief. Its graceful arches and doorways rose to impressive heights, with intricate alluring patterns. Beautiful tapestries graced the stone walls, their colors magnificent, and the cloth rich and vibrant, unlike anything she had ever seen. A hulking sculpture of a three-headed monster, without a doubt the sigil of the house, glared with malevolent intent. Despite that, the castle’s elegance and beauty were undeniable.
Despite his apparent civilized appearance and accommodations, she was sure the king would not understand she had no current way of fulfilling her promise. Her mind hazed over from exhaustion. She needed a bath to remove the filth and grime from her battle. She also needed food, and possibly sleep, before she could even begin to work out a solution to her predicament. They entered an antechamber where the king gestured for her to sit, with her rescuer positioning himself at the door.
“Now let’s iron out our bargain,” the king said.
Kings’ teeth, Saieke swore, so much for honoring her rank and first seeing to her comfort. “I…certainly.”
Shadows seemed to dance everywhere, alive from the one great torch that blazed in the room. The chamber was quite large, with a raised dais, several chairs, and a throne made from bones? A banquet lay in the center of the room filled with lemon tarts, fruited bread with cheese, roasted duck stuffed with almonds and apples, and ruby red liquid which she hoped was wine. Her nerves needed fortifying.
“Be seated princess. Eat and drink your fill.”
She sat in the great chair toward the entrance, burying all anxiety as she faced King Al Shra. Her stomach was knotted by too many nerves to eat now, but desperate to appear unflappable, she reached for a sweet and delicately bit into a lemon tart. Sweetness with a harsh tang of citrus burst over her tongue, and her stomach did an embarrassing rumble of appreciation.
Her rescuer lounged at the door, his gaze tracing her lips and neck. Unbidden interest rushed through her, and the low tug in her womb had nothing to do with fear. She cleared her throat. “I thank you for your kindness King al Shra. My journey has been an exhausting one, and I welcome the respite.” She stared at him in what she hoped was a steady fashion.
“I am eager to hear of the bargain brokered Princess.”
She took a chalice of wine and sipped to soothe the nervousness she wanted to be hidden. After placing the cup on the table and dabbing crumbles from her mouth, she squared her shoulder. “While leaving Boreas my Queen’s blades and I were unexpectedly attacked by Mevians. After a brief but vicious battle that left the fate of my blades uncertain, I fled to the inside of your border and this Darkan…”
Saieke stiffened as he appeared in front of her. She tried to hold onto her regal composure. She had not seen him move. How did they do it?
He gave a curt bow. “Drac El Kyn.” The rasp of his voice slid over her, stirring heat. Please, not again. Saieke did not startle when, with a mere blink from her, he was back by the door.
She nodded once, fighting to keep a serene mien. They seemed normal thus far, and she held onto that assurance with all the training embedded into her as the Princess of Boreas. “Drac El Kyn rescued me, accepting my bargain to honor your kingdom with six jars of elixir.”
“And will your kingdom honor such a bargain?” the king’s voice was flat.
Saieke met the glacier grey of his eyes unflinchingly. “I am my kingdom. Boreas will honor my promise.”
“Will they?” A deadly murmur.
Saieke’s shoulders twitched, then she froze under the focus of their penetrating regard. They did not trust her. Her heart jerked, once, then in a furious rhythm. “I will detail a missive to my king and queen and send my armband as proof of my identity with an emissary from your court. Your emissary will be honored with the jars, I assure you.”
“And where will you be, Princess?” the king asked silkily. “Why are you not returning to fulfill your honored oath?”
The menace in his voice had Saieke’s gaze bouncing from the king to Drac. It stopped at her rescuer, and she blanched at the cruelty carved into his features. “I will not be returning to Boreas, your majesty. Please be assured that my bargain will be fulfilled, and the armband I will send with the parchment will be proof that it is a genuine request. It is imperative to the safety of my kingdom and myself that I continue my journey without delay.”
The king’s soft chuckle had dread tightening her stomach. Saieke fidgeted, and she gripped the edge of her caftan as the instinct to flee dominated her thoughts.
“Princess,” the king said. “For your parchment to arrive in Boreas from us would be a declaration of war. A Darkan in possession of the armband of the Princess of Wind would only bring death, and it would be the death of your people should they march on us. Would you not agree?”
Saieke’s heart stilled at the truth of his words. Her parents would know her writing, and the armband would be proof that it was indeed the princess making this order, but it would give rise to suspicion and fear. Kings’ teeth. The nature of her disappearance would imply that Darkans had taken her and now used her for leverage to obtain elixirs from Boreas. Saieke expelled a harsh breath. To fulfill her bargain, she would have to return to Boreas with the emissary. I cannot.
“Your Majesty...” She did not bother to brush the curls that fell over her face obscuring her vision. “My kingdom is the Boreas. Honorable, respected, our lineage untarnished by dishonor or treachery, my lieges will honor my word.”
She swayed into the great chair as the import of her words hit her. Untarnished by dishonor. No longer a true statement because of her flight.
"Rumors travel to the shadows of an Allegiance between Boreas and Nuria. I am sure you see our predicament, Princess.”
Saieke stiffened.
“You are the word of your kingdom, and the kingdom your words. Yet you flee an oath Boreas has made on your behalf. Do not perceive us as fools.” The harshness of his voice lashed through her like a whip. It cracked in the room and seemed to echo for interminable seconds before fading.
“I would never…” she cleared her throat and continued hoarsely, “my kingdom would never dishonor…” she faltered. They knew she fled from the Nurian king.
King Al Shra’s rage was palpable. Its power raced over skin prickling it with heat. A terrifying sense of inevitability pressed in on Saieke, and nausea rolled through her stomach. I must go home. “I am in accord. I will return to my lands to honor the bargain.”
She could feel the satisfaction that permeated the chamber. Saieke remained numb through the drafting of their agreement. The king scrawled his signature with bold grace, and her hands trembled when she signed.
“Ladies in waiting have been assigned to you. Rest Princess Saieke, and we will confer when we break our fast.”
“I thank you” she whispered as she rose, exiting the antechamber with several guards leading the way, all hopes of saving her kingdom burned to ashes.
4
The chambers were suited to a princess. Great torches and a roaring fireplace blazed, illuminating the dark elegance of the room. Deep vermillion hues, mixed with violet, and the most beautiful silver tapestries decorated the wall. The four-poster bed stood high and proud in the middle of the room, with a mound of purple satin pillows with gold fringes piled in its center, tempting her to climb on and snuggle into the heap.
The pain of failure and loss raked at her. Saieke slapped a hand over her mouth as a harsh sob ripped from her. She gathered her composure as several ladies in waiting bustled in, moving with grim efficiency.
Saieke went through the motions of refreshing herself, resolutely banishing the dread clouding her thoughts. They laid several caftans made with luxurious materials the colors of corn silk, gold, and chartreuse on a chaise. She fingered them lightly. Empresses and queens of other kingdoms would pay a fortune to possess such richness in garments.
“A
gift from our castle ladies,” one of the ladies in waiting said.
Saieke gave a strained smile. "Please convey my enjoyment to the ladies of the castle.”
“Yes, your highness.” They dipped in graceful curtsies and then departed.
She lay on the bed restless, unable to sleep. Even though fed and refreshed, exhaustion still weighed on her. It was not mere fatigue; it was the failure. Her harsh breathing mingled with the crackling of the fireplace. I’ve failed. My people will burn because of my ineptitude, and Kamu and Thyon have sacrificed their lives for naught. She bit her bottom lip until she tasted blood.
Saieke flashed off the bed, restless and edgy, pacing the floor with jerky movements. To flee to Earth now would be a folly, only an asinine person would undertake. The Darkans would deliver death if she did not fulfill the bargain, yet she could not return home. She would be locked away in one of the towers, and only after bonding to King Ajali would she have any freedom.
Her lips curled in acute distaste. King Ajali was enormously wealthy and powerful, and his kingdom respected by many. He was over seven hundred years old and already a legend due to his feats in the second Great War, yet she did not want him. He already had an alliance with Aria—the kingdom of earth and sand. Her father must know King Ajali only coveted their nation for its wealth. Boreas was bountiful with hundreds of meadows, creeks, rivers, and waterfalls that spanned more than a hundred feet in both depth and width. Most precious of all, they had the elixir springs—the most desired commodity Boreas had to offer as a kingdom, which could heal any wound instantly, and that was what the tyrant king wanted.
The only thing that could prevent their marriage now was to try once again and lose her purity. It would be impossible to find a willing lover in the amount of time it would take for her to return to Boreas to honor the bargain. It had been a daunting task when she had weeks to plot. Now, it would probably be easier to try and flee the Darkage instead of finding someone that would willingly bed her.
