Dark Reign

by Rachel Jonas

  The truth was that I had no excuse whatsoever. These feelings just … were.

  With her tucked against my side as her body tremored, my name was announced. The clock had run out. For however long it took to convince the people of our innocence … it was Corina and I standing alone.

  Us against the world.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Corina

  There were so many watching, in this room and beyond.

  The broadcast was being televised worldwide. Meaning, today, I’d just become the posterchild for one of the biggest scandals in Ianite history.

  I imagined Felix and my team watching from the command center, holding their breath as I shook like a leaf behind this podium. How strange it was that my only comfort was the hand I held. One that, when I’d first taken it, was cold. However, as he poised himself to answer the first of many questions, his flesh had heated against mine.

  Nearly every hand in the room was raised and I held my breath as Julian scanned the crowd before pointing to select one.

  “Your Highness, what’s your response to the growing opinion that you should be labeled a traitor, and the accusation that this is all a ruse to hide your true intentions once you’ve taken the throne?”

  Wow … they went for the jugular straight out the gate.

  Julian cleared his throat at the abrasive question.

  “Well, I’d say the public has jumped to conclusions without having the facts,” he began, “which is why I called this conference today, to clear up any misunderstandings. Now to answer the second half of your question regarding my intentions as Emperor … my thoughts and actions toward the Dynasty have never been anything but honorable, and I pledge that once I’m seated as your Presiding Emperor, I will continuously strive to do what is in the best interest of our people.”

  I swallowed hard, acknowledging how vastly different his ‘interests’ were from my own.

  Gathering himself, he pointed at another reporter when more hands shot up into the air.

  “Your Highness, how do you think the decision to take a Doll will affect your ability to fulfill the marriage requirement necessary to take the throne?”

  A hush fell over the crowd.

  “While I don’t claim to possess the intuitiveness synonymous with the North, it is my belief that not all Ianite women are opposed to wedding a man who’s engaged in a legal agreement with a Doll. As you all are aware, many of our leaders have also—”

  “No one would argue that others have taken up this practice,” the zealous, female reporter interjected. “However, the difference lies in the timing,” she explained. “Others who have decided to partake were settled into unions with Ianite women first.”

  That overwhelming silence crept in again, and I was admittedly glad that I was not Julian at the moment.

  “So, if I’m hearing you correctly,” he rebutted with the hint of a smile, “you’re suggesting it’s more suitable for a man to marry first, and then proceed to spring this arrangement on his wife after years of monogamy? Some might argue that the timing you support is, perhaps, the less sensible option.”

  There was a brief standoff between the two.

  “I suppose there’s some truth to that,” she conceded with a smile, before retreating back into the crowd

  I passed Julian a glance as he warmed up behind the mic. There was no question this wasn’t easy for him. However, you wouldn’t have guessed it watching him now.

  My gaze slipped toward the edge of the stage where his father and Dynasty Brothers stood, waiting. They too seemed to have relaxed as Julian handled the crowd with finesse, like a man well-groomed for the crown.

  He pointed at another female reporter.

  “Your Highness, have you spoken to Cecelia McNamara since the gala?”

  Julian’s expression dimmed at the mention of that name. “No, unfortunately I have not. I’d be open to having a conversation with her, though. Perhaps I’d be able to clear things up between us,” he added.

  The woman seemed satisfied enough with the response as she continued.

  “It’s been rumored that she’s already arranged a sit-down with a major network, to share her side of the story. Do you have a response to that?”

  “Only that I understand why she’d feel the need to speak for herself,” Julian replied. “I too wanted the story to be heard from my point of view, and wouldn’t deny her the right to the same.”

  His gaze shifted down to the podium.

  “Actually, while I have the adequate platform, I’d like to publicly extend an apology to the entire McNamara family. While this has all been one big misunderstanding, it was never my intention to bring shame to Cecelia, or anyone,” he stated.

  To my surprise, the woman who posed the question said nothing else on the matter. Instead, she offered Julian a kind smile and shrank into the crowd again.

  More hands rose into the air and Julian answered each question with care. He was mindful to only explain what was asked, and only stretched the truth when necessary.

  Mostly to protect me.

  The questions began to slow and I was grateful for it. We had to have been near the ten-minute-mark, which was the rough estimate of time Julian gave for this affair.

  Soon, I’d be able to breathe again.

  An aide held up three fingers from offstage, and Julian nodded.

  “Looks like we’ve got time for three more questions,” he announced with an easy smile, searching for another to call on.

  My fingers, still linked with his, were squeezed gently and the feel of it sent my heart fluttering. I wasn’t sure if it was because I’d been bitten, or because I’d been with him for a few days now, but … I was definitely softening toward him.

  Whether I liked it or not.

  “In the back,” Julian called out as a tall, thin man nearly ran to the front of the room. He’d made quite a fuss to get Julian’s attention.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Your Highness,” he greeted, stepping to the mic as he pushed chin-length strands of brown hair behind his ears. “Name’s Jon Carlisle.”

  Julian replied only with a nod, gesturing for the man to proceed.

  “If you don’t mind, I have exactly three questions,” Jon shared while flipping the pages of a small notebook. “You made it clear that’s all there’s time for, so, if it’s fine with you, I’d like a chance to ask each of them.”

  Julian’s brow tensed, but he never faltered. “That sounds reasonable enough.”

  The man smiled and glanced up from the sheet he found and, for reasons I couldn’t name, a chill crept up my spine.

  “Thank you,” he uttered politely, passing a red stare my way before continuing. “Your Highness, it’s rumored that you purchased your Doll from Madam Amelia. Is this a fact?” he asked. “Or another of those pesky rumors?”

  Julian’s initial silence made my temperature spike, certain it had brought an undeniable twinge of redness to my cheeks. With most of his answers today coming with confident ease, seeing him stall now left me to gather he hadn’t prepared for this particular question.

  “I … yes, that’s true,” he finally replied. Again, my fingers were squeezed in his, and without thinking twice about it, I clutched him tighter, too.

  “Uh-huh,” Jon exhaled. “You see, I find that quite interesting. Once I heard your claim, I decided to visit Madam Amelia myself, thinking she’d like to give an account, and as I’m sure you can guess, she painted a very different picture,” he stated. “In fact, she has no recollection whatsoever of any Doll being sold to you, or any other monarch. Other men of status, yes, but … not you.”

  I thought I felt my heart stop inside my chest.

  “There’s an explanation for that,” Julian clarified once he gathered himself. “I thought it best not to visit the Madam myself, sending a member of the staff in my stead. Were we to show Madam Amelia a photo of the man who actually carried out the transaction, you would have gotten a very different response.”
r />   Jon nodded slowly, keeping a narrow glare fixed on Julian.

  “Hmm … I’ll have to take you up on that suggestion.”

  My throat felt tight when I swallowed, but Julian didn’t move.

  “Next, I thought we might address that your Doll was reported to be void of a brand,” Jon stated next. “Seeing as how all donors are branded at birth, I find it quite strange she’s somehow managed to slip through the cracks.” He paused, his eyes burning a hole through Julian. “This didn’t alarm you? Didn’t make you question where she’d come from?”

  Instinct told me to run for the nearest exit and pray that by some small miracle I made it out alive. With the questions Jon was asking, this could only end one way.

  Badly.

  The polite smile had faded from Julian’s face the moment he realized Jon’s hidden agenda. When he spoke again, there was no missing the undertones of fury beneath the words.

  “Corina was born at Helbridge,” Julian blurted. I wasn’t sure he’d prepared for this question, or if he was simply quick on his feet.

  Helbridge was an infamous harvesting camp that had been closed down nearly a decade ago, after an investigation into alleged ‘unethical’ practices. It was discovered that Ianite caretakers, unhappy with their wages, had taken to the practice of selling babies on the noir circuit to the highest bidder. Mostly powerful, ill-meaning men in the other quadrants who intended to raise the children as personal slaves. The idea was to acquire them, mold them into whoever, and whatever they wanted them to be.

  Only … the auctions were nothing like what the Ianites believed. Instead, these sales were held to buy the children’s freedom. Those powerful Ianites were closet sympathizers in desperate need of some way to clear their guilty consciences. Meanwhile, most of the donors they saved had been set free through the very system of which I was a part.

  Oh, the heads that would roll if they all knew the truth.

  Jon leveled a wicked glare on Julian that made my skin crawl. “So … your story is that this woman,” he began, gesturing toward me, “was recovered from Helbridge and somehow, miraculously landed in your arms.”

  Julian’s jaw tensed and it was clear his ability to hide his growing disdain for our final inquisitor was wavering.

  “My ‘story’,” Julian seethed. “Are you implying I’ve been dishonest?”

  The crowd began to murmur and the sentinels positioned around the perimeter were alert, poised to intervene should things get out of hand.

  Jon gave a shallow bow neither of us mistook to be sincere.

  “My apologies, Your Highness. I only mean to do the work of the people. It is our job as reporters to ask the hard questions,” he stated, meeting Julian’s gaze again, “and I suppose I just stumbled onto one of those hard questions.”

  Heavy footsteps stormed out onto the stage, charging straight toward Julian and me. I suppose he felt my posture tense beside him because, without thought, his hand left mine and moved to engulf my waist instead, drawing me closer.

  A strange mix of fear and excitement rushed through me and I breathed deeply. Julian eased me aside when our presence behind the podium was replaced with William’s—the Presiding Emperor’s righthand.

  “That’s all the questions we have time for this evening,” he announced, not bothering to hide his displeasure with Mr. Carlisle’s behavior tonight. I found it odd that a man, in his line of work or otherwise, would dare to challenge a royal like he’d just done.

  “Please,” Jon cut in, his voice silencing the crowd once again. “I’d just like to ask one final question.”

  “As I said, we’re done here,” William reiterated. “We appreciate everyone’s time and encourage you to formally submit any further inquiries.”

  Quiet conversation picked up and William gestured for Julian and I to exit to the right. I’d just taken a step when …

  “Excuse me.” Jon’s voice came over the speaker and I froze, as did several others in attendance. “I’d only like to ask the lady a simple question,” he said, feigning innocence. “How do you feel?”

  My brow knitted together, confused by his question.

  Jon’s eyes widened. “That seems like a reasonable question. Considering several citizens of the Capitol reported seeing you being rushed into a vehicle, unconscious, covered in blood.”

  Those who had obeyed William’s orders and began exiting suddenly halted, finding interest in Jon’s revelation.

  “Well, if you don’t mind, I’d like to answer for you,” Jon offered. “Judging by the fact that you’re standing here, free from any injury I can see … my guess is you’re just fine.”

  I stared, but said nothing.

  What could I say?

  Distrustful stares and harsh whispers came from every direction.

  “Settle down. I’ve already taken the liberty of sending the photos to each of your news stations for further analysis,” Jon stated calmly. “Oh! And I also managed to sneak a colleague into the booth so we could share this perfectly innocent moment with the entire world.”

  The sarcasm in his statement wasn’t lost on me.

  The next instant the room went dark, but only for a moment. The screen above that had once displayed the Eastern Quadrant’s flag … now glowed with an image that changed everything. While I had no memory of the incident, except for bits and pieces that flashed into my thoughts, there was no mistaking it was me, being carried in Julian’s arms.

  That inkling to run struck again as did a sickening feeling that spread in my gut. It wasn’t bad enough that Ianites were seeing this … my friends, those who depended on me to lead our charge were watching, too.

  My name, from this day forward, was ruined.

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but humans who lose that amount of blood aren’t usually up and on their feet the next day,” Jon speculated.

  “Just what are you accusing my son of,” came the booming voice of Emperor Westower.

  Jon, unfazed by the show of authority, shrugged. “I haven’t accused him of a thing, Your Majesty. I simply stated facts. Whatever conclusion you or anyone else have jumped to, are merely the result of what you’ve seen here today. Cold, hard evidence.”

  “What does this mean?” someone shouted from the crowd.

  That same wicked smile broadened on Jon’s face. “I’m happy you asked,” he crooned. “In my humble opinion, there’s only one explanation for the Doll’s miraculous recovery.”

  You could have heard a pin drop before his answer fell in the room like a bomb.

  “She’s been bitten.”

  The collective gasps and shocked stares were a snapshot of how viewers at home had likely reacted.

  “Need I remind you that wrongfully accusing a member of the royal family is treason? A crime for which the punishment is death by fire?” The Emperor asked, positioning himself near the front edge of the stage as he assured the man that his boldness could be the death of him. “My son is well aware of the no-turn law and has only ever been a law-abiding citizen of the Capitol.”

  Jon tilted his head. “Has he?”

  Emperor Westower’s tightly clenched fists served as a warning, but Jon failed to heed it when a challenge flamed in his eyes.

  “Then … prove it.” His words sent a chill scurrying up my spine. “If you’re so certain your son’s venom doesn’t course through this girl’s veins, I implore you to drink from her yourself, Your Majesty,” he dared. “It will either be a drink to victory … or a drink unto your own death.”

  “He means to do the Emperor harm! Seize him!” William commanded, provoking a wave of sentinels to action at his charge.

  I cared little that Jon’s words had been twisted to bring about his abrupt removal from the facility. I simply wanted him gone, as far away from me as possible.

  “Prove it!” one yelled.

  “Show us he’s innocent!” came the voice of another.

  The random shouts and jeers from the crowd rose into the air, calling att
ention to the rift that divided the room, a standoff between citizens and the monarchy. It appeared many had chosen to stand in agreement with Jon Carlisle. It was then I realized the entire brigade of sentinels hadn’t sprang into action. They, too, were divided in half—those loyal to the crown no matter what, and those who vowed to uphold the law, regardless of who its long arm plucked from the Earth.

  Jon’s hands lifted into the air as a dark, soulless laugh burst from his lungs. “It seems I’m not the only one who’d like to know the truth, Your Majesty.”

  I stared, watching as Emperor Westower’s shoulders heaved with rage. The room was eerily quiet, still. My senses were all on high-alert—my vision clearer, my hearing keener.

  There were four exits, two close enough to reach in ten seconds or less. As if he sensed I was in flight mode, the large hand around my waist held on tighter.

  A fleeting glance.

  A collective breath drawn in by the crowd.

  My entire life flashed before my eyes.

  Each of these things happened at once, all as the Emperor caved in to the pressure from his people, and charged my way. My eyes stretched wide as his gaze locked with mine, as his face contorted right before me.

  The whites of his eyes filled with darkness—like ink dropped into a glass of pure water. All that remained was the silver centers Julian had inherited. Chiseled cheekbones shifted higher, protruding beneath his flesh. Next, a perfect set of teeth elongated as he readied himself to prove his son’s innocence.

  As he rushed forward to feed on me.

  “Stop!”

  That single word thundered from Julian’s throat and through the entire building with incredible authority, rendering all who heard it silent.

  Including the Emperor.

  With lightning speed, Julian had come to stand before me, creating a barrier between his father and I, a gesture that rendered Emperor Westower speechless as the twisted features began to settle back into place, the whites of his eyes returning.

  I could practically feel the accusations being hurled toward Julian despite no one having said a word. I knew what this looked like.