The young prince is many things, but he is no coward. He has the stomach to do what needs to be done here. The difference between us is I’ll enjoy watching Thackeray flinch and shake under my sparks. Roman will not enjoy stealing the air from Thackeray’s lungs or using his air to put pressure on his head to the point where he feels like his skull might explode.
“You’re gonna talk to us today, Thackeray or you’re gonna die.” Roman says it with such confidence that Thackeray appears worried. He knows that today’s torture is going to be worse than what he’s used to. “This mystery to what Theon Beleros wants from Amara has gone on long enough. I want to know what he wants with her and I want to know now.”
To my surprise, Thackeray finds the will to laugh. It’s weak, as he is, but monsters very rarely crack under pressure. Clea hadn’t until Kara had consumed her in fire.
“You’re wasting your time, boys. Anything you do Theon will do worse.”
“Maybe.” I say, stepping toward the bars while Roman busies himself with finding the appropriate key to unlock Thackeray’s cell. “But see, the thing is, Thack, Theon isn’t here. We are, and I can guarantee you once I’m through with you you’re not going to give a damn about what Theon might do.”
“Doesn’t matter anyway.” Roman says casually, slipping the key into the lock. “The next time you get out of this cell it will be for your execution. It’s not Theon you should be worried about. Only us.” Roman pulls the door open and then tosses the keys to someone behind me. When I look over my shoulder I see that it’s Drago. “After you.” Roman says to me.
I step into the cell slowly, making Thackeray shift on his cot. When Roman steps in behind me Drago locks the cell so that there is no funny business on Thackeray’s part. Not that he’d be stupid enough to try anything. Not with Roman’s air and my sparks. But we are down here without the king’s permission. The last thing we need is to be explaining to Theron why our only prisoner escaped.
“Alright, Thack. Time to talk.” I wring my hands out at my sides and my magic comes. Little light blue sparks at my fingertips. They can shock and twist the body into an unrecognizable heap with just a touch. It is what now makes me and Amara the same. Thackeray knows. He’s seen it firsthand.
“Rot in hell Limacoran scum.”
“Scum huh?” I shoot Roman a look and he just shrugs, letting his eyes fall back on our prisoner, the only real scum in this cell. “We’re the same, brother. Both Serpentarian, both village rats who climbed the ladder with only what they just happened to be born with. The only difference is I don’t go around hunting down little girls for sport. Now tell me, what does Theon want with my sister? Come on, Thackeray. Before I have to use your own magic against you.”
At that Thackeray scoffs. “You think that just because you’re Serpentarian you belong to something? A faction of ether users? People like you? You and your sister aren’t like us. You’re both freaks, possessing power you don’t know what to do with. Even the most practiced Zodiacs can’t kill with just touch or shock someone into an early grave. You are nothing more than freaks among freaks.”
I chuckle at Thackeray’s sad attempt to scare me. Maybe it would have worked on my sister, but I don’t even flinch. If being a freak in a sea of freaks means I am more powerful, more deadly then I’ll take it. Hell, I’m grateful for it. I’m grateful for anything that will help get Amara back.
“I’m sorry. Was that supposed to scare me? Make me feel inadequate? Or maybe just small? Because last time I checked the more power you have in this world the better off you’ll be.”
Getting off subject, Roman steps forward. “Talk to us, Thackeray and I can get your sentence reduced. You don’t need to die. You can live out the rest of your days in the Bay rather than meeting the blade.” The blade. A beheading. The Bay, better known as Storm Bay, is a prison where Limacore’s most deadly criminals reside.
Thackeray leans forward on his cot, getting in the prince’s face. “Give me the blade.” he sneers.
Roman sighs and takes a step back, giving me permission to begin. My sparks come to life in my hands and I move toward Thackeray. “I’ll give you something much, much worse.” I say, curling my fingers around his neck. Thackeray convulses before my eyes as the angry sparks envelop him.
Over the last month I have perfected this ability and so I know how long I can shock him before he dies. I even know how much pain I can cause him before he is permanently damaged by my sparks and I stop before any of that can happen.
“What’s Theon want with my sister, Thack?” I ask calmly. He swallows hard, probably feeling dry from the sudden jolt of sparks writhing his body.
Thackeray licks his lips and lets his head hang down where I’ve got him up against the back wall of the cell. “I’m not talking.”
I hit Thackeray a few more times with my sparks. I even blast him with that nifty new energy blast ability I discovered the same night as my sparks, but he doesn’t talk. Roman sucks the air from his lungs while I light him up, but he doesn’t say a thing outside his whimpers of pain.
“Alright.” I call out finally while Thackeray gasps for air that just isn’t there. Roman halts at my side and I wave Drago over. “Go get Niykee.”
“Niykee, my Lord?”
“Yes. If anyone can get through to him it’s Niykee.”
Thackeray thinks it’s a joke. Sure, fire users can be particularly brutal in the art of torture, but Niykee can put you in a special kind of hell. Theon knows it better than anyone. I can still remember with perfect clarity what she’d done to him at that funeral almost a month ago. Black flames of death threatening to swallow him whole. There’s no doubt the only reason he managed to survive her attack was because of his age. Only a thousand year old Zodiac prince could go toe to toe with Niykee’s unique magic and live to tell the tale. We don’t know how she did it, but like me she’s been practicing this new magic in the hopes of using it to rescue our friends. The prince, however, knows nothing of Niykee’s new skill so he thinks I only want her for her fire.
When Drago finally does return with Niykee she is understandably confused. But it does not take her long to figure out what I have called her here for.
For the second time since I’ve known my stepsister, which is most of my life, I see true fear in her sky blue eyes. They flick to Roman and then back to me. “What are you doing, Aaric?” she asks me, uncharacteristically nervous.
“It’s okay Niykee. Roman protected Kol when Amara took away Kol’s soul. You can trust him. Show him.”
“Show him what?” Thackeray chokes out.
I smile. He’s finally scared. “Oh, you’ll see.” Drago moves to unlock the cell to let Niykee in, but I shake my head at him. “No. She can do what she needs to do on the other side of these bars.” No matter what magic she has, I’m not risking him hurting another one of my sisters. I move my eyes to Niykee and nod encouragingly. “Go on, Niyk. Show this bastard what happens to people who hurt our sister.”
I’m relieved when Niykee smiles, a little of the old her creeping back in. She hasn’t been much of herself since the funeral. Not just because she’d lost the only sister she’s ever known, but because she’d done something impossible. Combined her magic with our sister’s. But the thought of torturing someone who had meant to hurt Amara brings her back.
“You’re going to want to tell them what they want to know, Serpentarian.” Niykee warns Thackeray, giving him the chance to speak before she uses her newfound magic on him.
Again, Thackeray swallows fearfully. “I’ve been burned before.”
I grin. “Not like this.”
Roman looks on nervously as Niykee raises her hands where she stands just outside the cell. I know Niykee has been practicing her new skill, but I haven’t actually seen her do it since the funeral so when I see the black fire curl out of her fingers like an ebony inferno I am once again taken aback by the sight. Thackeray throws himself against the back wall of the cell in horror. Roman flinches from
beside me.
Black fire shoots through the bars and Roman and I both instinctively push against the wall. Thackeray clambers back into the corner of the cell. “What is she doing?” he panics. “What is she doing?” Thackeray chokes when the fire reaches him. Niykee’s inferno scorches his skin, but like Theon, it is not the thing he focuses on. It’s the other ability her odd magic holds. The part that is like nether, the part that drains away your essence. It’s hard to see Thackeray’s face through the smoke and flames, but what I can see is ghostly white. Niykee is burning him up all the while draining the very life out of him.
And finally Thackeray breaks.
“Stop, stop, stop.” he squeals, but Niykee does not stop. She won’t until he says something that will make her stop. “I’ll talk, I’ll talk!”
“Funny. All I hear is screaming.” Niykee says cockily.
“The Nexus! The Nexus!” Thackeray screams out.
And suddenly Niykee’s black death flames are gone and Thackeray hasn’t a mark on him. I’d seen Kara do that to Clea. When Kara had wanted to know what Clea knew about why Theon wanted Tristan dead, she’d tortured her with her fire, but when she released her magic the burning flesh was all in her head. It still amazes me.
Thackeray pats himself down, still in a panic even though Niykee’s incredible magic has left no trace of it ever being there. His breathing is ragged and he can barely form a complete sentence.
“Roman,” I prompt when all he can do is stare at Niykee, green eyes terrified. The fear I see there worries me. Perhaps we can’t trust him.
“How did you do that?” Roman chokes out.
“Later.” I say, forcing him to meet my eyes. My silent promise to explain everything later seems to level him. Even the prince realizes this is not the place.
“Thackeray, you have thirty seconds to explain yourself before I start again and this time I will aim to harm.” Niykee warns him.
“The Nexus.” he stammers again. “It’s how he’s going to win this war.”
“What is the Nexus?” I ask, confused.
“It’s a myth.” Roman says with venom in his voice.
“If we’ve learned anything from living in your world it’s that nothing is myth until proven otherwise.” Niykee replies.
“The Nexus isn’t real. It’s a bedtime story.”
“Well then consider it bedtime.” I say, frustrated.
“The Nexus is a dark object known for its ability to infuse all six elements as one.” Roman explains. “There are many stories told about the Nexus’ power and what it can do, but if this thing does in fact exist, it would make Theon Beleros very dangerous very fast.”
My eyes slide to Thackeray and then back on Roman. “Terrific.”
—CHAPTER THREE—
KARA
LLÌRIA
Theon Beleros’ smile haunts me like nothing else.
I can still see it every time I close my eyes, even nine days later. It haunts my every dream and thought. His smile, or maybe just the reason for it.
But it isn’t just his gloating over my decision to betray my best friend that haunts me. It’s a dream, a distant memory even. A loud night at the beach with friends, teenagers enjoying what little happiness a life in a poor village has to offer. I see his face now and I see it then too. But I cannot pinpoint the memory, if that’s what it is. Maybe the overwhelming thoughts of Theon and my old life are blending into one terrifying nightmare.
But there is no greater nightmare than the reality of what I’ve done to Amara.
I have betrayed her, even if I haven’t done anything yet. I did what I thought I had to do, to protect my unborn children, to keep them from entering this game of princes and pawns. My only comfort is that I do not truly believe I can do what he asks.
Theon wants me to use this Psychic Echo Amara and I are supposed to possess to locate her, but apart from always knowing when the other is in danger, I have seen no proof of this so called Echo.
It’s been nine days since I’ve seen Kol, Theon, or Clea. Kol got what he wanted. My word, to help his master. That master is probably preparing for Amara’s arrival as we speak. As for Clea, she does not care about the pregnant Arian girl, nor does she care that I will be her best friend’s downfall. Ever since Theon leeched her soul away she is cold and unfeeling.
Well so am I.
My only reprieve from this silent tomb is a trip to the infirmary once a week for a routine checkup with Dr. Taya Braylon. She is a pretty redhead in her twenties and I do not need to know her backstory to know she is the age she looks, unlike Theon who looks to be in his twenties, but is much older than that. A person only needs to meet Taya to know she is the age she appears to be.
Kol does not come to escort me to the infirmary. Instead he sends a guard. It’s the same guard that always takes me. His name is Macen and he never says more than two words to me. Good morning, Lady Kara. Good day, Lady Kara. That’s the extent of it.
Normally I mope the entire way to the infirmary and back, but since this is the first time I’ve been out in days I embrace every moment outside of that sad little room.
The infirmary is never terribly busy as most Zodiacs heal quickly, but there are a few patients scattered around the nurse’s station, speaking with nurses, doctors. Taya doesn’t seem to be present.
I still remember the first time I’d been down to the infirmary. It was maybe a week after I’d been brought here. I’d been out of my room before, to be brought to Theon so that he could ask for a favor I had denied him for almost a month before I’d caved. Still, my trips to the throne room were never like this. To get to the infirmary you have to cross the entire palace and during that journey I had learned one terrifying thing. This place isn’t just a palace inhabited by rebels fighting for House Serpentarius. This is a kingdom, complete with subjects, guards, servants, and an army. Theon isn’t just playing king to these people. To them, he is one. Or Prince Regent, as they call him. He doesn’t actually plan to be king. That’s what Amara is for.
“Lady Kara,” A little blond nurse who’s name I’ve forgotten calls to me. “Just over here. Dr. Braylon will be along in a minute.”
Lady Kara. The title bothers me more today than it usually does. It just reminds me of the huge disappointment I must be to my parents. Their only daughter, carrying the children of a dead boy. Back in my village girls like me are very common. There is not much to do in small villages like Baal, but work, cause trouble for the security officers, and fornicate with the opposite sex. At the palace, a pregnant member of the prince’s Zodiac would be considered a disgrace, unworthy of any decent marriage. What I am here, in this unfamiliar country among these foreigners, I don’t know.
“Kara, would you like to know the sex of your babies?” Taya asks me what she always asks me during every appointment so I am surprised today when my answer finally changes.
“Yes.”
Taya’s striking blue eyes light up at my answer. “Oh Kara, that’s wonderful.” she gushes happily. She takes this as progress in my mental state. She has diagnosed me as depressed.
She is a moron.
How is a captive of war supposed to feel? What is a pregnant girl locked in an ivory tower supposed to do, but mope?
Taya does not know the sex of my babies because of anything more than natural born talent. Theon’s palace is run by mostly Serpentarians, but any smart king knows Pisceans are handy. With their mysterious ability to turn their water magic into basic magic to cast spells, mix tonics, enchant objects, they are an undeniably wise ally to have. Taya is a Piscean with the even more unique ability to not only sense when a girl is pregnant, but determine what she is having in terms of their signs and their gender. She’s known what my babies were from the moment I walked through those palace doors. Because of this ability Taya is a well-guarded subject of the court. If a Zodiac Hunter got their hands on Taya she would be an invaluable tool for them.
I don’t know what’s changed my mind today. I have
spent the last month telling Taya that I didn’t want to know what the sex of my babies are. Maybe it was because any thought of these babies reminds me of Tristan. Maybe it’s because it felt wrong to name them without him. Maybe I’m just feeling guilty for choosing them over Amara, even though I know she’d never hold it against me. But today is different. Today my imprisonment in that room is getting to me and I want something to think about other than me and my children’s survival.
“Well, you are having one of each.” Taya says gleefully.
“One of each?” I move a hand over my stomach—still flat since I am only three months along— and for the first time in nearly a month, I smile. I can see them already. Two little golden-haired babies with emerald eyes, just like their father, so that I will always have a piece of Tristan with me, wherever I go, wherever we go.
“Do you have names picked out yet?” Taya asks, still smiling.
“I think I do.” I smile, recalling the names Tristan and I had gone over the night he died. “We’ll see.”
Nothing had felt so terrible as that night. Not just for me, but for all of us. Amara’s despair. Aaric’s guilt. My regret. Not even the horrifying attack at his funeral could compare to the night we watched Tristan slip through our fingers.
“Well I do hope you are going to be a bit more original than Tristan Jr.”
Kol’s voice wrenches me out of my own head and my eyes fly to where he stands at the infirmary door, looking smug and important. He’s even managed to ruin this for me. He has not come to see me since I made the deal with Theon and then shows up during one of the only moments of joy I have had since I found out that my babies were alive, that Aaric had done the impossible and resurrected them. He is my constant dark cloud and he is not going away. Not any time soon.
I move into a sitting position, clutching my stomach protectively. “What do you want, Kol?” It’s all I can manage. I cannot run, I cannot hide from those intense midnight blue eyes. All I can muster is bitter contempt.
“What I want?” Kol laughs, but it is a dark sound that cuts me, I don’t know why. “What I want you will give me soon enough. What I am doing here, however, is to escort you to your new chambers.” My eyes must reflect how I feel: surprised, because he adds, “Unless you’d like to remain a captive in your old room with nothing to do, but read books on Old World history that no longer applies to any of us.”
Savage Reign Page 3
