The Taken

by Nikki Hunter

  “Don’t be. I really haven't the slightest clue what I’m doing. No matter how many books you read about leadership you still just have to find your own way.” Lance blinked slowly. “Doesn’t your birth technically deem you the right to claim prince as your title?”

  “Ah, yes, but Prince is a very threatening title to claim with my aunt in power. So Duke it is.” Bekket angled his head. “I’m scared shitless of my aunt.”

  His admittance left Lance speechless. What do you say to a “Duke” who could technically take the crown from the one person they all wished to remove from power? Especially one who seemed so hesitant to take the leap. Lance knew if it was him, very deep down he knew, that no matter what relation they were if he was in Bekket’s shoes he wouldn’t waste one second to knock that evil woman off her throne.

  “I can’t pass this off to you,” he continued, now starring solemnly at the floor. “They won't deal with anyone who doesn’t have a title. Wouldn’t even give you the time of day. If I could pass you the shadow of the crown that rests against me at every hour...I would. You, Lance, are a great leader.”

  “Bekket, we will stand behind you on this.”

  “I appreciate it but, I don’t think Kade likes me, especially after yesterday’s dinner.”

  “I think Kade is just dealing with a lot. His emotions and ours. I doubt he hates you. He doesn’t hate many.“ Lance didn’t think this was a lie, but in all honesty he didn’t know. With all of the planning for the upcoming meeting he hadn’t had time to sit down and talk with Kade or any of the others for that matter. He didn’t feel like the great leader Bekket was trying to make him out to be. “I think the part that makes it easier for me—“ Lance cleared his throat “—is when I listen to each of them and realize I can’t control them. Ultimately they will make their own decisions. I merely have to choose to support them.”

  Bekket stared back at Lance, unblinking and nodding slightly. He knew he wasn’t good at listening. He also knew he had a tendency to believe it was his way or the highway when he was supposed to be the one in control. In the silence he promised himself he would try to be a king, should it come to that, that led his people as Lance led this small band of misfits.

  The door to their quarters opened and closed before the two tore their gazes away from their conversation. Yehven had returned and without a single look was headed straight for his room without a word.

  “I, uh, I’m gonna just go talk to him.” Lance pointed at Yehven, smoothing his hair down with both hands before he settled one on Bekket’s back. “Bekket, myself and this group will support you. Should the day arise, you will make a great king.”

  As Lance meant to pull away, Bekket slowly took his hand in his, his thumb running over Lance’’s knuckles. Unsure, Lance stalled, looking down at their intertwined hands.

  “Thank you,” Bekket whispered, his cheeks staining red as he dropped Lance’s hand but kept a hold of the attention of his brown eyes. What had gotten into him? Bekket wondered about himself. He knew, deep down, in a very, very deep down part of him he found Lance wildly attractive. But he never planned on making advances. Or showing him any sort of affection, and now he couldn’t get the feeling of his rough calloused and scarred hand in his own unblemished fingers out of his head. He couldn’t get that Lance continued to hold his gaze before he softly smiled and walked away to help Yehven.

  Lance was a good leader and a good friend. But Bekket couldn’t stop himself from thinking that perhaps Lance could be a good lover too.

  Chapter Seven

  Escape

  Noise rose and fell like the waves of the ocean as Camila sat on the edge of her cot, her hands knotted under her chin. She could hear the party and see the outline of silhouettes against her tent as they danced around a roaring fire. The smell of alcohol in the air was so thick she could almost taste it. Two men still stood outside her tent, but she could hear them call over to the party goers longingly. She doubted they would make it the night without venturing over for a drink or two.

  Quietly she walked over to the desk, trying to get a better glimpse of the men through the small opening of its entrance. Camila leaned forward, avoiding the cake she purposefully left. She fought the urge to roll her eyes as she thought back to Vargan’s comments. His attempt to get under her skin had worked, too well, but she was going to use that fire within her and channel it into an escape plan.

  An uproar of humored shouts erupted to her left but she never took her gaze off of the guards. They were in wild conversation, their hands lifting as they spoke, taking turns leaning backwards as a healthy laugh shook them. As if they might find any noise she made suspicious, she tiptoed around the desk, easing into the chair.

  She sat watching, waiting, calculating.

  A shriek rose over the noise of the party, a terrifying sound really. The guards’ hands quickly dropped to their swords and they ran toward the sound. Leaving Camila’s exit wide open. Fools. She wasn’t waiting for another opportunity. She was ready now. If the noise had been some sort of danger, surely the danger wasn’t as bad as being a sitting duck waiting for the slaughter. She peeled back the flaps of the tent, glancing towards the crowd with their backs turned away. Now.

  Camila lunged for the tree line close to the tent, making it firmly behind a tree before the guards turned back to stand their posts. The shadows from the fire rose up and down in a dance all their own against the surrounding trees. Rough bark against her back reminded her to move, to find her way out.

  More clearings lurked everywhere she turned, spaces with tents, areas that could possibly hold people who would stop her from escaping. She hadn’t seen much when Vargan had brought her in, and she didn’t have sense enough about her even if she had wanted to.

  She didn’t have a clue where she might go, or how far she would have to run to get out but she ran. Wind picked up her brown locks and tossed them over her shoulder, low lying branches and brush brushing over her black uniform. If she could just get far away, long enough for her magic to return…she could get back to Lance, Zayn, Yehven, Kade, and Bekket.

  Leaping over a large root of an oak tree, Camila swore as the root lifted and caught her foot. The plant itself pulled out from the ground and wrapped around her ankle like a shackle.

  “What is it we have here?” Trek laughed quietly as he and two others approached Camila. “Trying to escape? Or did you want to join the party?” His sneer was just as foul as Jenks.

  “Vargan said I could take a few moments to join Vaerol this evening. I haven’t any powers so I’m not a risk to you and yours.” She motioned to the others. “Now if you can just remove this terrible wooden piece from my ankle, I will be on my way.”

  Trek raised one eyebrow glancing back at one of his friends. “She’s lying.” The man to his left hissed, his split snake like tongue slithering from his lips to flick out before it returned to his pallet.

  “Oh, you shouldn’t lie to me and mine.” Trek frowned. “Boys, this woman has a smart mouth, doesn’t she.” The others laughed like evil hyenas, their features hidden in the shadows as they stood in a semicircle around her.

  This wasn’t right, Camila knew. This was a bad situation she had found herself in. Escape was supposed to be easier than this. She wasn’t supposed to get caught ten feet away from the tent she’d been stuck in for so long.

  Trek crouched down beside her, his fingers trailing up the inside of her leg. Nausea roared inside Camila’s stomach, but Camila knew she had to keep it together.

  “Oh,” she purred.

  “Hmm,” Trek hummed. “You like that?”

  Gross. She thought, holding down the vomit that wanted to creep up. He just needed to get a little closer.

  Camila chewed her lip with a small nodd. As Trek inched forward, his palms sliding up her thighs, Camila reached for the dirt around her. “I like a woman with—“ Camila launched the dirt into Trek’s eyes. As he sputtered and wiped at his face she pulled the large knife that was sheathed
at his side and swung at the root that held her ankle.

  “Don’t touch me.” She spat as she quickly unwound the root and stood up. But his two companions were there. One of their fists firmly colliding with Camila’s stomach knocking the wind out of her in a long wheeze, the blade falling to the ground.

  “You snarky little bitch.” Trek growled as he stood up.

  Camila stumbled away from the men, leaning against a tree as she tried to catch her breath. But they weren’t going to give her that chance. She shrieked, as she was pulled backward by her hair, spit flying as a punch landed against her jaw making her neck snap to the side. She fell to the ground, holding her cheek. She had never been hit by a man, much less a fae and she didn’t particularly ever want it to happen again as tears welled in her eyes from the pain.

  “Trek, what the hell is happening here?” The two guards from outside Camila’s tent approached, their mouths falling open when they saw Camila crumpled to the ground. “Get her back in there!” The other guard bellowed.

  “I’m not done here.” Trek spat, turning away from them and back to Camila.

  “We don’t give a shit, Trek. Vargan said she isn’t to be touched.” They said as they pulled their swords from their belts. Trek didn’t even give them a second glance before he waved behind him and the tree branches gathered the two guards up in tight bindings.

  Trek leaned down, picked up his blade and added it back to his belt as his leg reared back before he launched his boot into Camila’s eye, splitting open her eyebrow in a gaping cut. Blood dripped from the wound, appearing black in the darkness. She screamed out again, holding her face with both hands before she forced them down and tried to crawl away from her attacker and his goons who smiled behind him.

  The roughness of his boot met her side as he kicked her over onto her back. “You can’t run from this.” He raised his hands from his sides in a shrug taking another step towards her but he paused at the sound of two objects falling to the ground. Two heads. Camila curled into herself as she saw his two friends’ bodies fall lifeless behind him.

  Trek angled his head to listen just before he gasped, looking down at the blade that emerged though his chest. Vargan pulled it out, watching Trek fall to his knees as he clawed at the gaping wound he wouldn’t live from, as blood poured out and his breath became shallow.

  “I never liked him, anyway.” Vargan growled. “Get up.” He pointed at Camila.

  On shaking legs, she stood, cupping her bleeding eyebrow and leaning away from the ankle that still hurt from the tight grasp of the tree root.

  “You are an utter idiot.” Vargan continued, lowering his sword so that it was angled at Camila. “Get back to your tent.”

  Her walk was slow as she limped around the now dead bodies and headed back the ten feet to her prison that she hadn’t missed even in the beating she had taken. The guards had fallen from the tree upon Trek’s death, both keeping utterly quiet. They were lucky Vargan hadn’t taken their lives for letting Camila escape.

  Camila pushed back the entrance of the tent, practically falling inside as she shuffled towards the bed.

  “What is wrong with you?” Vargan shouted throwing down his sword covered in crimson, as he followed her inside. “Why did you think you could make it out of this campsite alive?”

  Camila stood tall, brushing her hair out of her face, leaving behind streaks of blood from her fingertips. Her mouth was pursed in a small line that cut across her face harsher than his sword cut through his own men’s bodies.

  “Out with it,” he said calmer.

  “What did you expect me to do? Not take the opportunity when I saw one? Wait in this tent for my unknown fate?”

  His onyx eyes became two dark slits, staring into her soul. “Well look at you now.”

  She chewed on her lip. “I’m not sorry.”

  “Fuck.” Vargan stepped close to her, his body heat showering over her in relentless waves as his chest rose and fell. “Look at you,” he repeated as calloused hands met her face, he traced his thumb over her busted lip. His palm cupped her cheek before quickly dropping his hand back to his side.

  Camila swallowed, her body humming from her failed attempt at escape. She turned her face away from his heavy stare, the look cut right through her. She never imagined a softness like this could come from someone so bred for war.

  Suddenly the thought of Yehven, brute from the time she met him till they parted, and how he had opened up to her over took her mind. How he could be so strong and unyielding one moment then the next a bitter love that cared and caressed, loved and forgave.

  Red raced over her cheeks as her thoughts lingered.

  “What are you thinking?” Vargan’s rough voice interrupted.

  What could she say? She was thinking of her mate? Her ex? Her… whatever the heck they were now? There weren’t any feelings there anymore, only fond memories.

  “Nothing. Just scared.” The admittance wasn’t false, it was a feeling that had grown since she had been in the camp. Now after being pummeled with no use of her powers, she felt insignificant. Vulnerable. She hated it. Loathed every second that feeling rose up like bile in her throat.

  “Jenk won't be in the rest of the night,” he said firmly, finally stepping away from her towards the exit.

  “What?”

  “You need to heal in case you have any internal bleeding. You need your magic, I assume. Or is that not how it works for genies?” A small smile quirked the edge of his lips.

  “It’s the same for the jin.”

  “Jin.” He nodded. “Tomorrow, we meet with the queen.”

  “I’m not anymore,” Camila whispered.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I mean, I’m not part of the jin. Sorry, genie would be the correct term.”

  “Hmm,” Vargan began, “Okay, just don’t get any bright ideas with the bit of magic I’m gifting you. Keep in mind, I could crush you if need be.” He swiveled on his toes and headed to exit.

  “Would you?” Camila whispered behind him.

  He paused, glancing behind him, taking her beaten image in one last time prior to leaving her sight behind the flaps of the tent, his rough voice saddening as it disappeared with him. “Of course, I would.”

  Chapter Eight

  The Renegade

  The small bit of magic Vargan had granted hadn’t been enough. Not enough to even heal the bruises that littered her body. Not enough for her to even summon herself something of use. She awoke early the next morning to Vargan quietly binding her and dragging her along to his horse.

  Camila wasn’t ready to meet her fate, didn’t want any part in talking to the queen. She was already bitter about her ruined attempt at freedom.

  “Sorry, love. This is going to hurt. Visits with the queen are never pain free,” Vargan said, pulling her from the dark mare after their long travels from the camp. Camila stumbled as she landed but quickly got her feet under her. They had been on that horse most of the day, the afternoon sun now shown through the openings of the branches above.

  She wished she wouldn’t have to bear the roughness of the rope against her wrists or the gag they had covered with material tightly tied over her mouth any longer. Curse words sat unpleasantly behind the gag, waiting to be released.

  Vargan sighed, looking down at her binding. Rough war trained hands slowly skimmed over her forearms before seizing the rope and pulling Camila behind him. She grunted. Her pride felt hurt more than anything. More than the fear of where they were headed. More than dread of finding out her fate. The least they could do was let her walk herself.

  She clearly wasn’t any kind of threat. Like Vargan had said, he could crush her if he so chose to do so.

  The horse breathed heavy behind them, mirroring Camila’s anxiety as they approached the clearing. Vargan had stopped far enough back they wouldn’t be noticed by sight but any fae near could likely catch their scent or even feel their magic. Each step over the forest floor felt drug out. A slow motion ni
ghtmare.

  Brush became less and less, figures appearing before them, waiting. Camila’s gaze began to shoot from person to person. Many guards already sporadically spread through the small space. Then, there was the queen.

  A fragile looking woman, more bone than anything else. Unblemished skin and onyx hair, the curls cut so short they almost didn’t exist, only perfected her polished look. She screamed regal in her short blue dress that kissed tall black boots, all tied together under a turquoise jacket that teased at her heels. A queen of war.

  As she caught sight of Camila, pulled roughly behind Vargan, an amused smile rose over her cheeks to reveal brilliant white teeth. Flanking her were two advisors, one male and one female.Twins or just two very similar looking siblings. Wind stirred between them wafting a scent so familiar she could recognize it anywhere. A mixture of salt and cedar, a strange tangy scent that she associated with demons. How many had already embedded themselves in this land?

  These two with the queen didn’t even bother to hide their scent, not in the way Kym had—the way still unknown by Camila. Blonde hair and blue eyes on the both of them, the picture of perfection drawn in their flawless beauty.

  “My Queen,” Vargan bowed, “I’ve brought you the new magic you asked for.”

  “Let me see her.”

  Vargan nodded, his face solemn as he turned to Camila. With force he threw Camila at the queen’s feet. Camila’s knees collided with the solid ground, where the bruises had finally healed. Hurt vibrated up through her legs.

  Anger rolled through her as she sat below the queen. Queen Katrice leaned down, gently pushing the long fabric of her jacket away as she squatted in front of Camila. Her unscathed hands reached up, pinching Camila’s cheeks together as she spoke. “Your reputation has preceded you. Do you know what the fates call you now?”

  Camila looked into her malicious gaze finding no sympathy, only a cruel hate behind such a beautiful face. The queen huffed a laugh. Pain stung against Camila’s face from the swift slap of the queen’s hand against her cheek.