The Keeper's Vow: A Chosen Novel (The Keepers Book 3)

by Meg Anne

  The grief that was never far from the surface roared at the reminder of what was at stake. Not that Lucian had forgotten, that would be impossible, but with enough effort he managed to push it to the furthest recesses of his mind for a while. He had to. It was the only way he could continue to function.

  If he let it, the pain would become a gaping chasm inside him, pushing him off the edge of sanity and straight into madness. There was no telling what he’d do if that happened. If he lost control and allowed the despair to take over. A man with his power? It wasn’t a far leap to fear the worst.

  A small shudder slid down his spine at the thought of losing control. Not just because of the irrevocable damage he would inevitably do, but because of what it would take to send him there. If Lucian gave in to the violence begging to be unleashed, it meant that Effie was gone.

  Forever.

  And if that was the case, no one would be able to stop him from tearing Elysia apart. That was no metaphorical threat. As a Guardian, he could weave together the strands of life, but so too could he break them. It would take less effort than releasing a sigh. With his power fully unchecked, Lucian could unmake the world.

  “Guardian?”

  From the exasperation fused into the title, it was clear that was not the first time Quin had called him.

  Lucian was frozen on the second to last stair, his foot suspended in the air mid-step. Clearing his throat, Lucian cleared the last of the stairs and stepped to the side, making room for Quin to do the same.

  Trinity was eyeing him, doing nothing to conceal the curiosity in her gaze. Lucian ignored it. Let her wonder. If she managed to stumble upon the nightmares that consumed him, she was welcome to them. Lucian sure as shit didn’t want them.

  He scanned the narrow hallway jutting off from the landing they were standing on. It had been decades since he’d last had reason to come to Val’don. So far, the hidden city was as unremarkable as it was unfamiliar. But the only constant in life was change, so that did not surprise him.

  “I don’t remember this area from my last visit,” Lucian murmured when he felt both siblings’ eyes on him.

  “Val’don is like a hive. We are constantly extending its reach.”

  Lucian nodded.

  “This is one of the back entrances to the city itself. Go to the right; it will lead you to the residential wings by way of the dining hall.”

  “And the left?” Lucian asked, although given the Councilman’s earlier orders he already had a pretty good idea.

  “The left will lead us to the gaol.”

  Lucian felt his body tense, but managed to keep his face impassive. He knew Effie would have to be kept somewhere secure and guarded, but she was not a criminal. Not really.

  “Let’s go,” he said finally, feeling a muscle tick in his jaw.

  This time, Quin took the lead. Trinity was just behind Lucian, almost at his side, as if she was walking beside a friend and not escorting a potential threat. Any other time, Lucian might have appreciated the effort.

  Ignoring his guards, Lucian focused on creating a mental map. He would need to know how to make it back here on his own. From the little Lucian could see, this part of Val’don was more bunker than city. The walls and floors were the same muted gray, illuminated only by a string of lights that ran along the ceiling. As he watched, one of the lights brightened to a blinding white before flickering twice and dimming back to the soft orange of the others. Squinting, he tried to identify the source of the light.

  “Star motes,” Trinity murmured. Lucian’s expression must have conveyed his lack of recognition because she added, “In ancient times, it was believed that the glowing motes were fragments of fallen stars. Now we know that they are just small bugs with the ability to light themselves up once the sun sets. The mirrors provide more than enough illumination during the day, and the star motes take over at night.”

  “How do the creatures stay alive if they are confined?”

  Quin’s answering grin shone with pride. “One of our more intricate advancements.”

  Lucian raised a brow, shifting Effie in his arms.

  “Impulse based translocation.”

  Lucian blinked.

  “Transverse orientation?” Quin tried again.

  Lucian stared.

  Flushing slightly, Quin explained, “It’s similar to the atmospheric replication we use in the city proper, but on a much smaller more nuanced scale.”

  Fluent in over seventeen languages—many long since obsolete—Lucian had no clue what the other man was blathering about. It sounded like he was just stringing random words together.

  “We found a way to use their natural instincts to our benefit.”

  “Why didn’t you just say that to begin with?”

  “I thought I did,” the other man mumbled.

  Trinity jumped in. “The star motes are drawn to the orbs. We were able to recreate the atmospheres found within their nests. Once the sun goes down, it emits a powerful pheromone that helps the star motes find their way home.”

  “Why would they need help when light literally shines out of their asses?”

  “They’re blind,” Quin answered as if it was obvious.

  “Go figure.” Lucian shook his head. “Alright, so you trick them into believing your orbs are their nests in order to light up your hallways at night.”

  Quin rubbed the back of his neck. “Basically.”

  “And during the day?”

  “They come and go as they please. It’s a perfectly harmless process.”

  Lucian wasn’t sure manipulating creatures into believing they were home when they were actually enslaved was really harmless, but it wasn’t his place to say. Mind snagging on something else that Quin said, Lucian asked, “And this is what you call atmospheric replication?”

  Quin and Trinity nodded.

  “You use it throughout Val’don?”

  “Exactly. The earth was never meant to be inhabited in this way, at least not this deep below its surface. Our ancestors had to find a way to modify it so that our people could safely survive down here. That meant purifying the air and water, filtering out any harmful substances and increasing the amount of those we need, ensuring that the nutrients we needed to grow food were present in the appropriate amounts, and so forth . . .” Quin trailed off, looking uncomfortable under the intensity of Lucian’s stare.

  “And in all this time the land has never rebelled?” Lucian asked, impressed despite himself. He knew better than anyone the amount of magic required to make something resist its own nature.

  “It might be easier to understand if we show you. Perhaps tomorrow?” Quin offered.

  Lucian nodded his agreement immediately. “Yes, I think I would like to see how you’ve managed this feat.”

  There was an undercurrent of awareness that had pushed itself to the surface during the man’s explanation. Lucian was practically vibrating with the force of it. Instinct informed almost all of his decisions; he would not ignore its pull now. He’d come here hoping for asylum, yes, but also for answers.

  Somehow, the people of the Vale held the key, and Lucian wasn’t leaving until he had it.

  Chapter 9

  “Here we are,” Quin said, standing outside a twelve-by-twelve cell.

  A low growl sounded in Lucian’s throat before he could stifle it. Three of the four walls were encased in jagged stone, the fourth was made of metal bars the size of his wrist. While its stone floors were surprisingly clean and it was larger than he expected, within it there was nothing save a bucket and a coarse-looking blanket.

  Quin looked apologetic as he unlocked the door and swung it open. “We aren’t in the habit of needing to . . . detain people who deserve grander accommodations.”

  Trinity’s eyes were focused on Effie as Lucian crossed the threshold and carefully lowered her body to the floor. She clearly did not believe Effie fell under such a category.

  “Who else besides you two holds a key to this cell?”
Lucian asked, his voice low and angry as he stood to face them once more.

  “There’s only a handful of keys that will grant access to this part of Val’don. Councilman Vance holds one, my sister and I as the head of the security detail hold two more. The last are shared by those that rotate through the night guard shift.”

  “I am going to need those keys.”

  Trinity’s eyes narrowed. “No.”

  “I wasn’t asking.”

  Cheeks bright with anger, she opened her mouth, but her brother cut her off. “For the safety of our people, you must understand why we are hesitant to grant your request.”

  “If you think the lack of a key will bar my entry, you clearly know nothing of a Guardian’s power. I want to ensure no one else has access to this cell. She looks harmless enough for the moment, but make no mistake, she is as clever as she is deadly. She will only grow more so as the days pass. I will not risk your people falling victim to her deception.”

  Quin paled, his eyes dropping to her chains and lingering at the red scrap of fabric around her mouth.

  “Yes, even chained and gagged she remains a threat.”

  “Do you not need to feed her?”

  Lucian let his silence answer for him.

  “If she is so dangerous, Guardian,” Trinity spat, “why bring her here at all?”

  Feeling every year of his age, Lucian’s eyes met hers. “Because it is the only way to save her.”

  Trinity’s expression softened, and though she didn’t voice it, he could clearly see the question burning in her gaze. Can she even be saved?

  “Very well, Guardian. If she is as dangerous as you say, we will agree to your demand.”

  Lucian gave Quin a nod of thanks. “Would you two mind giving me a minute?”

  Trinity and Quin exchanged an uneasy look before nodding and moving back out the massive metal door that marked the gaol’s entrance.

  Dropping to a knee, Lucian crouched beside Effie’s unconscious form. If not for the gaunt cast of her face, or dull sheen of her hair, he could have believed she was still whole. Still his.

  Lucian brushed his knuckles across her cheek, leaning down to press his lips to her forehead. Eyes falling closed, he sucked in a ragged breath. It took everything he had left to lift his head up from hers and rise back to his full height. His heart was demanding he stay and curl himself around her, protecting her in her vulnerable state. His mind was shouting for him to get the hell away before she came to.

  Although it tore him apart, Lucian exited the cell and shut the door. The click of the lock echoed around him, causing his jaw and fists to clench.

  Even though she couldn’t hear him, or care if she did, Lucian couldn’t leave without promising, “I’ll be back to check on you tomorrow.” Swallowing, he silently added, one way or the other, fledgling, this needs to end. I fear what will become of us otherwise.

  Disorientation lingered, momentarily muting the dull throb of pain that emanated from her arms and head. Something had pulled her from the darkness, but she could not say what.

  Slowly, she took stock of her surroundings, starting with her body. The soft scrape against her wrists told her she was still bound, even without the all-too-familiar clink of chains. Her mouth was raw where the damp fabric had chafed the skin. Sucking in an angry breath through her nose, she rolled to her knees, eyes open into slits as she regarded her newest cage.

  There. Something in the air.

  Sniffing again, she struggled to make sense of the smell.

  Damp. Earth . . . underground?

  But that wasn’t all. There was another scent in the air. It called to her, wrapped itself around her and sunk its claws in deep. It made her want to purr—no. Cry?

  Confused, she whimpered. Nothing was making sense.

  As awareness grew, her head throbbed, the pain slicing through the rest of the fog in her mind. A low growl sounded in her throat when she caught the unfamiliar scent again.

  Midnight. Musk.

  Her growl deepened.

  She didn’t like the way the scent twisted her emotions, making her feel weak and scared. Or that she couldn’t identify it. In the end, it didn’t matter. There’s only one reason for another’s smell to be in her cage.

  It marked her captor.

  Enemy.

  The need for revenge built inside of her, bubbling up until it spilled over; the only thing she could understand. No one caged her. Not unless they wanted to die.

  Her eyes closed at the memory of tearing into tender flesh, the hot spray of blood dripping down her chin. Her stomach grumbled at the thought of metallic tang. So hungry. The need was nearly unbearable.

  Another whiff had her groaning with savage want, the desire to sink her teeth into her enemy and until she was bloated with his blood all-consuming.

  Delicious.

  She crooned the word, mouth salivating at the thought.

  This one would pay for his crimes, but not before she tasted him. She would not let him die until she feasted on his still-beating heart.

  Scooting back, she pressed into the wall. Something sharp poked her and she shifted, her neck swiveling slowly as she eyed the jagged rock.

  Another low rumble sounded, this one filled with satisfaction. There was little she could do about the chains, but it took only a few tries sawing the cloth against the edge to pierce through the gag around her mouth. She didn’t stop when the rock raked against her flesh, just adjusted her position and continued with her slow progress. Soon the smell of her own blood filled the air, but it did not dissuade her.

  She didn’t stop until the fabric sagged and fell down her neck, collaring her like some kind of defiant necklace. Feeling vindicated, she spat the wad of cloth from her mouth onto the floor. Licking her cracked lips, she bared her teeth, the feral smile a sinister promise.

  He would come and she would feast. A creature such as herself did not need use of her hands to be a threat. Her bite was her greatest weapon, and she’d just stolen it back.

  Pressing herself back into the darkest part of the room, she waited. Her hunger and need for revenge thumped through her with each slow beat of her heart. Hours passed, the tantalizing aroma of her target—the focus of both her desires—her sole companion. It was a scent she memorized until she knew every facet of it. She would recognize it anywhere.

  Now, even if he ran, she would find him. She would never stop hunting him. Not until he slaked the need burning in her veins.

  He was marked, and only death would free him.

  Chapter 10

  Impatience battered at Lucian, pushing him to walk faster even as his fingers fumbled to tighten the belt slung low on his hips. He’d lain in bed until he couldn’t stand the silence—or his own company—any longer. He was beyond exhausted; the days since the battle merging together in one never-ending blur, but sleep never came. Not for him. When your soul was haunted, there could be no peace.

  Quin had told Lucian to meet him in the commons when he was ready for his tour. That was where Lucian headed now, his strides long and sure despite his restless night. Before Lucian reached the archway that signified the official separation of the guest quarters and the public areas, he was flanked by two men in scarlet robes.

  Lucian ignored them. Or he tried to.

  “Guardian.”

  “We require a word with you.”

  “It will have to wait.”

  “Lucian.”

  His name, so filled with exasperation, in the Triumvirate’s serpentine hiss brought him up short. As a rule, the Triumvirate unerringly relied on the formality of titles; never names. At least not when they were acting in their official capacity. It added to the mystique of their position, but in reality, it was just another link in the chain of duty that bound them. If their robes were donned, they were slaves to a law older than even them. But no one ever saw that. They only saw power. Feared it, even as they craved it for their own.

  As if any knew what they really asked for . . .
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  “What?” he demanded, turning to finally face them. Not that there was anything to see, hooded as they were.

  “We’ve come to join you this morning.”

  “We wish to witness this weave you spoke of.”

  Centuries of experience told Lucian there would be no talking them out of it. Stubborn bastards. It didn’t stop him from trying. He was just as stubborn. “We don’t even know if there’s anything to find.”

  “That’s not what you indicated in your report last night.”

  “You said they hold the key.”

  “Might,” Lucian immediately corrected. “I said they might hold the key.”

  The figure on the right—Effie’s Mirror Two—shrugged. “For a Guardian it is one and the same. You would not have mentioned it otherwise.”

  Lucian’s teeth clenched and an angry breath hissed out between his teeth. “Why are you really here?”

  Mirror One tilted his head as if the answer should be obvious. “Is the potential solution to the corruption that plagues us not enough?”

  “When it comes to you, it is never that simple. Or altruistic,” Lucian added, his voice bitter and tight.

  They were here to play nursemaid. To ensure that Lucian didn’t rush off to attempt something on his own. They didn’t trust him. Nor should they. If he did, in fact, find the answer he needed during his tour of Val’don, he’d be down in the cell with Effie before anyone drew their next breath.

  “Can you blame us?”

  “You would risk much for something that could spectacularly backfire.”

  Lucian took a step forward, his face all but pressing into the shadowed depth of the other man’s hood as the words poured from him. “Can you blame me? You know. You know what she is to me. What that means. Would you really try to stop me from saving her?”

  “No, Lucian. You know we would never stand between you and your true purpose.”

  “Then why?” he asked, his voice tortured.