Prince Bastian’s coronation.
Keenan pulls me into a seat next to him and that’s when I see her. The pretty little brunette sitting just off to the side of where an equally gilded throne sits at the center of the theater. Her amber eyes are cast down and she looks miserable.
“Haven,” I breathe, moving forward in my seat, but Keenan is quick to pull me back.
I haven’t seen Haven since we were transported into this unfamiliar palace and I wish she could hear me or look up so that she knows she isn’t alone. That, for the time being, I am alive. She is very far away, but I can see her fingers are absent of rings. She hasn’t been forced to marry that sick bastard yet.
We are almost directly across from Haven on the ground floor while the tiers climb up and up behind us. If Haven would only look up it won’t be hard for her to find me and Keenan in the crowd. Just look up!
“What are you doing bringing three prisoners to a royal coronation?” I sneer at Keenan. Here in this country we are nothing more than prisoners. We don’t belong here. What the hell is going on?
“Just sit back and shut up.” Keenan snaps back, keeping his voice low. He does not want me making a scene. He doesn’t want any of the people we’re seated with to know we’re prisoners.
Understood.
Something is very wrong.
I sink back in my chair, running my fingers over the leather bracelet on my wrist. I’ve been freed of my cage and if there was ever a time to escape it would be now when Haven and I are in the same room. All I have to do is get this thing off. Then I can drain every single one of these bastards, steal their essence, kill them all.
I know when Prince Bastian is entering before I spot him. He is flocked by dozens of guards. An assassination on the future king of Vakrov would be ideal in this kind of setting. With the amount of people present it would be easy for a trained shooter to kill him and then flee into the chaos. That’s why the guards cluster around him, even when he stands before his throne.
Haven finally looks up, her pretty eyes focused on her betrothed. At my side Keenan yanks me to my feet when I do not respectfully stand in the presence of my king. What he doesn’t realize is he can throw me in a Vakrovian dungeon, dress me in Vakrovian clothes, put me in Vakrovian chains, but Limacoran blood runs through my veins and the only king I stand for has green eyes and goes by Uncle Theron.
The crowd applauds at the prince’s mere presence and I can’t help an eye roll. When the prince gives the signal everyone takes their seats and the ceremony quickly begins.
It’s a simple one. Prince Bastian Beaugrand is presented to the people, he swears an oath to serve and protect his realm and all the people in it. He is then crowned. Everyone applauds and shouts silly things like, long live the king and then the ceremony is over and I am no closer to having figured out why they’ve liberated us from our cell just to be brought to a coronation.
And then a party.
After the coronation ends Keenan and a couple of guards to keep Missy and Finn in line lead us down to the ballroom where a banquet is being held in the new king’s honor.
The first thing I do is search the busy ballroom for Haven. She’s seated at the king’s table, smiling for his nobles, his people. But this time I don’t need to pray that she’ll look up. She does immediately and our eyes lock. The princess smiles and the way she does tells me she has not done it in quite some time.
Once again I move to go to her and Keenan holds me back. This time I do not just sit back quietly and behave. “You said I could talk to her!” I rage at him. I will cause a scene if I have to in order to see her.
“Did it ever occur to you that I was lying?” he says callously. He is unaffected by my rage, my desperation, my growing instability.
They call us serpent, snake, poison, darkness. Well Keenan Volterra is just an Aquarian, but he is the biggest snake of them all.
“Keenan, please. She’s my friend.” It’s a final attempt to appeal to the part of him that used to love me and I know he did. You cannot fake that kind of love. Keenan Volterra loved me once. I just need to remind him of that.
But his response is not one I expect. It takes him a moment to recover from his laughter. “Please, Amara. You hated her before you even met her.”
“Yeah? Well I changed my mind about a lot of those royals.” I say it to hurt him, to get a reaction out of him.
It works. Keenan has always been threatened by the young crowned prince of Limacore. That still proves true when he grabs me by the arm in a bruising grip and wrenches me forward so that our faces are barely inches apart. “One day, Amara when this war is over and ignorant kings like Theron Novak are dethroned, I’m going to slit your perfect little prince’s throat and you’ll realize he is nothing. You are nothing.”
I won’t deny that his words hurt, but as Roman had always seen right through me, I see through Keenan too. He doesn’t understand that there is no one in this world that knows him better than I. And I know a jealous child when I see one.
“What did he promise you, Keenan?” I ask and revel in the confusion etched across his face. He expected me to break at his cruelty, but I will not. “There must be some incentive to turn you into this hateful, ugly child.” That’s all he is. A jealous child throwing a temper tantrum because I chose Tristan a year and a half ago. He’s dead, Keenan. Who are you fighting?
“Sorry, Mara. Sometimes pyramids crumble. It’s the way of the world. I suggest you get used to it or you won’t survive a day outside the confines of Theron Novak’s pretty little prison.”
I could react to his taunts, his cruel warnings. I could come back with something at least half as cruel, but I don’t. Instead I bring us back to the reason we’re arguing in the first place. “Let me talk to the princess. I want to talk to Haven, now!” I demand.
“Miss Boudelaire,”
I whirl around when I hear Bastian Beaugrand’s voice to my left. Keenan’s hand falls away from my arm as the new king nears and some of his self-satisfaction falls away in the presence of his king. He really does respect this man. I haven’t a clue why.
“Your Majesty,” Keenan says respectfully.
“You wanna talk?” Bastian says to me gently. I swallow hard, backing away from the pair of them cautiously. “Let’s talk.”
—CHAPTER TWO—
AARIC
NEXUS
It’s been twenty seven days.
Twenty seven days since I have seen my sister. That’s twenty seven days more than I have ever spent away from her. We’ve never even spent a night apart prior to her abduction from Limacore. Now her bedroom sits empty just three doors down from mine. So does the room across from hers. Kara Volterra. Keenan Volterra. Haven Novak. They’re all gone. But none hurts as much as Amara. No one can hurt me the way she can.
I dream about her every night. I see her face, her pretty blue eyes stained in tears. She’s trying to say something, but she’s too far away for me to hear her. Crimson droplets of blood snake down her arm. Then Theon is there, wrenching her away from me, hands like manacles curling around her neck. I feel so sick that I could vomit.
I wake screaming, as I always do at this point in the dream. Niykee is at my side in moments, shaking me awake, brushing away the sweaty hair on my forehead, assuring me that it’s just a dream. Bay and Aaren aren’t far behind her, standing at the door exchanging looks of pity for me, their haunted brother.
Failing Amara has left me in ruins, just like the Ebony did our kingdom, but what is worse are the things I don’t know. Like Keenan. I still remember the king coming to me in the wake of the funeral shooting to tell me that Keenan’s body had never been recovered. Theon and the prince of Vakrov would have no use for my best friend so where had he gone? If he’d been killed, where is his body? He wouldn’t have gone after Amara on his own. It would have been a suicide mission for an Aquarian air user. He would have needed me, the ether user, to help him. So where is he? If not for Roman and Braylie we might still
think Amara was kidnapped by Theon, but I know better.
Braylie. She haunts my dreams too. Even in the waking hours, I see her in every brown-eyed girl that passes me. I see her die over and over again, gaping wound in her chest, Theon Beleros laughing at me while she dies in my arms. I can’t even look at Jayla. Not just because she reminds me so much of her younger sister, but because she is just another girl I have failed. Kara. Amara. Haven. Jayla.
The only one I’ve been able to help is Clea. The only thing I have been able to do in the twenty seven days all the girls have been gone is get Clea’s soul back, with my mother’s help. Of course, it was a difficult task. I had to first search Kara’s room for the locket Clea had her fake mom Selah Belle give to Kara upon Clea’s death and use that to bring her soul back from the Underworld with me.
I had been excited to go at the time. I had hoped to see Tristan and Braylie there, our fallen friends, but I had not. I had, however, managed to find Clea’s soul, drag her back to our world, and from there it left to go find its body. I do not know if it found her. More unanswered questions.
My only consolation is that Haven and Amara have each other. The girls never really had a chance to get to know one another given Amara was always surrounded by our other friends, but I have no doubt they will take care of each other, wherever they are.
Wherever they are. It’s a lie I like to tell myself, that I don’t know where Amara is, but I do. Even if the king doesn’t believe me, even if no one does. She is tucked away in another gilded prison, this time in an entirely different country. Vakrov, which is the only reason I have not gone after her myself.
It is that mission that brings me to the east dining hall, where the king eats. Chatter about Prince Bastian’s coronation last night is all over the palace and it darkens my mood even further. I know with his crowning his wedding will soon follow. We are running out of time.
Theron is standing near the breakfast spread talking to a couple of his advisors as well as the Commander of the King’s Guard, Aerys Tomlin. Tomlin has been trying to train his newest recruits in a hurry given the demand for guards here in the palace. We easily lost hundreds in the funeral shooting, leaving us vulnerable. So vulnerable.
When the king sees me enter he dismisses his men. I wonder if it’s because he is actually going to take me seriously or if it’s because he doesn’t want them to overhear the rantings of an unstable boy who’s just lost his sister. It’s what everyone calls me. Unstable. Mad. Broken. Perhaps they’re right.
I reach Theron just as his men are leaving, but not without sliding me looks. Unstable. Mad. Broken. I don’t need to be a mind reader to know what they think of me. But I don’t care. My girls are the only things I do care about. Kara. Amara. Haven.
The king knows what I’m going to say so I don’t waste my breath. He recognizes the look. He knows it well. “Aaric, please don’t do this. Not today.”
I shoot a glance at my father who sits at a table only a few down from where we’re standing. He easily looks ten years older than he actually is and I know he hasn’t slept in days. Maybe weeks. The dark circles under his blue eyes almost make him look sickly. Meela looks just as ragged even though both of her children are here, safe. But ever since Tristan’s funeral when all our parents arrived, they have refused to leave. Tristan’s father Amos Lancaster, he’s a different story. He doesn’t refuse to leave. He just refuses to go home to an empty house where he lived with his only child before a soulless Clea Beleros stole him from us.
“Why don’t you tell him that?” I say of my father, the king’s supposed best friend. “Tell him how you can’t spare the men right now. Tell him how you can’t do anything until you know for sure that Bastian Beaugrand has her. Tell him!”
Usually Theron drags me off somewhere private when I lose my cool, or orders me to take a moment to gather myself, but there is something about today that breaks him. “You are not the only one who is suffering Aaric!” the king snaps. “My daughter…” His voice shakes and he’s silent for a time, grappling for some semblance of control. “My daughter is gone too.”
I have sympathy for him, almost, until I remember one vital detail. “That’s on you. All of this is on you.”I’ve lived here long enough to know how the game is played so I am not unsympathetic to his plight. I know he is doing all he can. I know he wants Amara back, and Kara and Haven, but there is a difference between your hands being tied and just not wanting to take the risk.
But I expected this. I have tried to get Theron to send some of his men to retrieve my sister for weeks now. I know he is not going to agree to anything like that until something changes, so I am moving on to plan B. I just wanted to give the king one more chance to do the right thing.
I don’t stay for breakfast. I couldn’t eat if I wanted to. Instead I head for the dungeons. It doesn’t take long for the prince to fall in step with me, likely having overheard my conversation with his father.
"I’m in no mood for you to tell me to go easy on your father, Roman.” I tell him, sparing him only a sidelong glance. Even the crowned prince whom every female is content to fawn over is looking particularly rough these days. His brown hair is getting too long, his green eyes too dark. Long nights spent trying to convince his father of the same thing I am. For once the prince and I are on the same side.
“Where are you going?” he asks. His tone isn’t accusatory, but anxious. Whatever I’m doing, he wants to help.
This time when I look at him it’s in the eye. “Thackeray.”
I don’t need to say anything more. “I’m coming with you.”
I’m surprised, but at the same time I’m not. Roman and I had been banned from going to see Thackeray in the dungeons on the same night, but Roman has been working as fiercely as I have to bring our sisters home. For a long time I thought that whatever he felt for Amara was a schoolboy crush that would pass. A pretty new toy to play with, but the harder he fights for her the better I can see that I’ve been wrong. Even if politics keep them from ever becoming anything more, even if she does, he’ll fight for her. It makes him an excellent ally to have.
With Roman at my side I have no problem getting down into the dungeons. Though we have been banned, the guards don’t care to stop us. The reason? Everyone loved Amara, including the guards. Because she was kind to them, good, and she treated everyone as her equal, whether it be guards, servants, or royals.
I don’t recognize any of the guards down here except for one. Most of them are new, to replace the ones we’d lost. Drago, Amara’s personal guard, is the only one I know personally. He stands with his dark eyes straight ahead, unwavering.
“How ya doin’, buddy?” I ask him.
There’s a delay in his answer. I know I remind him of her. “I’m doing better, my Lord.”
I pat him on the shoulder. “I miss her too, buddy.”
For the first time Drago lets his guard down and his eyes travel to me. He nods. “Yes, my Lord.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not leaving here without answers. Not tonight.”
Roman is a good partner in this crime if I’m being honest. Because he is a Libran, an air user, he has many ways of torturing our prisoner without leaving any visible marks. But fortunately, due to the power I discovered in my showdown with Theon Beleros at the funeral, now I do too.
It is difficult to describe, this new ability. But Niykee likes to call it my spark. Because while it gives me the ability to shock people to the point of a blast or mild combustion, it has nothing to do with electricity. I can’t feel the low thrum of electricity inside the palace. I can’t control it, but when the power surfaces it sparks and shocks whoever I intend to harm so sparks is as good a name as any I guess.
If Haven were here she’d know exactly what this new ability is called and she’d be able to tell me what I can do with it. The memory stings, of the pretty Limacoran princess teaching me what abilities each element holds. My heart aches for each girl in a different way. With Amara it’s the se
paration anxiety. With Kara it’s all the things I didn’t say to her, all the ways I couldn’t save her. With Haven it’s regret, cold and painful. Because she’d given me the opportunity to tell her not to go with the prince. She’d begged me for a reason to stay. And I had brushed her off. If I hadn’t maybe she wouldn’t be gone.
Unfortunately it isn’t Haven Thackeray is going to be able to help us find. Not even Amara. The only person he is going to be able to help us save is Kara because Amara and Haven have been taken by an enemy we didn’t even know we had. And while I can do nothing about them being gone, locked away in a mad king’s castle, there is something I can do about Kara. I can bring my sister’s best friend home before she ever finds out she was gone.
Thackeray is a prisoner of war. It’s what Roman calls him, because he is the only Serpentarian of Theon’s we were able to take alive. We lost Clea, but we gained him. A cocky twenty-something redhead with nothing to lose.
We didn’t bother trying to trade him for Kara, not even in the beginning. Theon would not deal even if we had. Thackeray is a foot soldier, expendable. They all were. Theon Beleros cares about only one thing and that is getting his hands on my sister. I’m positive he would have left his murderous sister behind if it meant getting away with Amara. I don’t know if she fared any better in the hands of Prince Bastian or as it stands now, King Bastian Beaugrand of Vakrov.
A jagged scar travels from Thackeray’s eye down to his jawline; the reason for my banishment from the dungeons. A broken hand poorly bandaged by uncaring guards is the reason for Roman’s. He flexes his slow-healing hand when he sees us coming. His black eyes search beyond us, waiting for the king to appear. He’s the only one who tried to stop us when we’d gone too far in our torture. He’s disappointed to see we’re alone.
“Thirteen hells.” Thackeray grimaces.
“Thirteen hells is right.” Roman’s green eyes darken as he tugs his sleeves up. He means business. He will not flinch.
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