Deadly Secrets: Paranormal Reverse Harem (Dark Realms Book 1)

by Abby James

  Sargon jogged down the steps to the dungeon two at a time. The orbs on the wall guided him to the bottom. He pounded the dirt to his chamber, ready to utilize the lack of light for a good night’s training. Sargon favored this sort of training the most, although performed it mostly on his own. It wasn’t fair to drag Chett and Ryker down every night he slept badly and expect them to be a black target. When on his own, he pulled the suspended bags toward the center of the room using the glow of an orb to help him see. Then he would set them swinging, a staggered line of then, turn off the light and destroy each target as he moved through the chamber, using his senses to guide him.

  He reached the chamber when he heard Chett’s and Ryker’s footsteps on the stairs. On time as usual. Sargon pulled an orb from the wall and took it into his chamber, heading for the Dark Sisters resting on the wall. He stuck the orb to the wall and pulled the Sisters off their hooks, moved away from the light into the center of the room and began to limber his muscles, swinging each sword in a wide arc. Chett and Ryker moved into their own space and began their own drills without a word.

  After enough time, Sargon returned the Sisters to their resting place and collected three blunted swords from the hooks next door. He spun and threw one each to his best friends.

  “I see Mini hasn’t dulled your senses.”

  “I need more than one and a half hours for that.”

  He looked at Ryker. “And it looks like you’ve been winning your fights.”

  “No fighting tonight. I was merely checking out the new talent. There’s one I think you should look at.”

  “Bring them in.” He swung his blunted sword through the air. “Let’s see if I can do what Mini or ring fighting have failed to burn out of you.” With the tip of his blunted sword, he punctured the orb. The chamber descended into blackness.

  Sargon closed his eyes and focused inward, funneling his attention to his other senses, now much enhanced and enhancing further by the day. He sensed the shift of air across his skin, the softest sound of footfalls, all indicators to where his target would be. Chett and Ryker moved with stealth. Both had done this before, on many occasions, and if they couldn’t move through darkness like a panther, Sargon would never choose to fight with them.

  Sargon sensed a movement on his right side, blade-length close. He lowered slowly, understanding that any movement he made would transfer across the distance to his opponents as a map of his location. In a semi-crouch, he waited for any other sign to float his way, allowing his breath to flow out of his mouth to reduce noise interference. Even his heartbeat was too loud.

  The shift of fabric, the smallest sound, pinpointed the location of one of his friends. The noise came from above him, meaning whoever it was moved his arm, followed by silence, meaning he remained where he stood. Perhaps he was preparing his sword arm for a better swing. Sargon had made no sound, because he hadn’t moved except to crouch, and so both would expect him to be in a similar position to when the light went out.

  A sudden swoosh of air cut across his head and Sargon reacted with a strike of his own, low to his opponent’s knee. With Chett’s grunt, Sargon used the noise to disguise his movement, a few steps backward out of the blade’s reach. He crossed his right foot over his left, placing it down from the heel to the toe, keeping his center of gravity by staying low. A couple more steps and he calculated he was a quarter of the way around Chett’s body. But then there was the smallest sound, dirt being ground. Chett had pivoted in place. Perhaps Sargon had not been so silent.

  He sensed it before he heard it or felt the faint wind. The sword struck through the air again and Sargon bowed backward as it sailed within inches. On the defensive, Sargon matched Chett’s move with a strike that met soft flesh. He withheld the last of his move so it hit with little impact.

  Sargon’s tactic was to lure his opponent into making the first move. A blind swing tended to unsettle a person. It was hard to measure the power of your swing in the dark and counterbalance the inertia of the follow-through, which had a tendency to off-balance the one wielding the blade, allowing Sargon to capitalize on their weakness with a jab of his own. The resultant noise of his maneuver would usually be missed as the other desperately fought to gain their concentration.

  What he wasn’t ready for was Chett’s fast recovery. He met the blunt side of the blade as he attempted to move sideways again. He hissed in surprise and further gave his position away, but recovered quickly enough to drop low when the next swoosh of air swept over his head. With a snap reaction, he lashed out with his tip pointing to Chett’s middle. Unlike a swing, which covered a lot of space so increased the potential of a strike, a stab meant the wielder had to be accurate the first time. Sargon was. His blade collided and Chett grunted. Sargon knew he’d doubled over because the move made a lot of noise.

  He felt the move behind him before he heard the blade part the air, which meant he was ready for the strike. Ryker used full force and the move jarred up the blunt blade and into Sargon’s hands. It seemed missing the ring fights tonight had put Ryker in the mood for a little activity. They parried for a while, meeting sword with sword, which deadened Sargon’s hearing to the threat of Chett. Sargon swung under Ryker’s next swing, giving him time to listen for Chett. In this way, when the double attack happened, Sargon was ready.

  The three continued this way until they became sloppy with exhaustion and more swings found their mark.

  “Enough,” Sargon said.

  “I’m just warming up,” Chett panted.

  “No, we need to talk.”

  With his blade held out in front, Sargon crossed the room to the far wall. When the tip clinked on the wall, he followed it to the door and out into the hall, pulling an orb down and taking it back inside his chamber. Chett and Ryker had remained where they were, waiting. With the light, Sargon moved across to hang the blunt sword on a hook. He turned with his hand out and caught the swords Chett and Ryker threw his way and returned each one to its home.

  “I was prepped for a night of this,” Ryker said.

  “It’s not what I need right now,” Sargon said.

  “What’s on your mind?” Chett said.

  “The council.”

  Chett groaned and leaned himself against the wall. “No wonder you can’t sleep.”

  “Someone in the council is guiding Idrus’s men through. They’re too coordinated. They know where they’re going. They target the towns with precision, something they couldn’t do without prior knowledge of the area. They use the most secure routes.”

  “Perhaps they’ve been scouting long enough,” Ryker said.

  “Impossible. We’ve had our eyes on the borders enough. We would’ve known about it long before now.”

  “But what would this person have to gain? The destruction of the southern territory hardly seems like a plan any of the council would want to be a part of.”

  “Greed will make the most unlikely bedfellows. If he stands to gain more than what he already has, then he will do it.”

  “What makes you think there’s only one?”

  “Too many involved and the prize is diluted. One traitor is all Idrus needs. I’m sure his contact would prefer to keep his plans close so no one else benefits.”

  “So we monitor the council. Intercept the communication and there’s our man,” Chett said.

  “Plus we send a little communication of our own,” Sargon said.

  Ryker nodded. “Do you have suspicions?”

  “Of course.”

  “I thought you might. So we concentrate on him.”

  “No, we concentrate on them all. We can’t afford to be complacent.”

  “What about the situation in the north?” Chett said.

  “We monitor it. But the men must move with stealth. I want Idrus to continue believing we’re ignorant. I don’t want him changing his plans.”

  “We keep with the scout party?” Chett said.

  “And reduce the changeover. The men will just have to t
ough it for longer. The less movement from outside in the area the better.”

  “Are we still keeping tabs on your mother?” Chett asked.

  “I’ve got someone else doing that for me,” Sargon said.

  Chett clapped his hands together. “If that’s all you wanted to say, I think I may head home. I asked Mini to stay put.”

  “Tomorrow I want the initiates in the Arena. Time for their first trial,” Sargon said.

  “You are feeling mean tonight?” Ryker joked.

  “I feel the need to fast-track their training.”

  “I won’t tell them that. It will make them nervous,” Ryker said with a laugh.

  Before the other two moved, Sargon said, “How are you two feeling?” That was all he needed to say.

  “A little different every day,” Ryker said.

  “My sleep patterns are altering. Mini’s the fifth woman this week. Only some hard action between the sheets seems to keep me asleep for any length of time,” Chett said.

  “And you’ve been down here every night this week,” Ryker said. “So I don’t think you’re sleeping much either, at least less than your usual zilch.”

  “Anything else?” Sargon said.

  “You talking about our senses?” Chett said.

  “That and more.”

  “You worried?” Ryker said.

  “I just hope we made the right decision,” Sargon said.

  As Chett passed Sargon, he rested his hand on his shoulder. “We can’t turn back time. We deal with it and move on. Don’t stay late. Otherwise you’re going to be worse than the usual grumpy prick you are in the morning.”

  With a better offer waiting for him than Sargon could provide, Chett disappeared out the door.

  “Chett’s right. There’s no point in worrying now. We take each day as it comes.”

  Sargon looked at the Dark Sisters as Ryker’s boots smacked his departure on the stone floor. The blades had won him victory against Renus and then every combat since then. But perhaps soon he wouldn’t need blades at all.

  Chapter 10

  The light flooded through the curtain and under my eyelids. Marnena moved around in the bathroom adjacent, whistling to herself. The sounds of running water had to mean bath time. She emerged seconds later.

  “Oh, good, you’re awake. Come now, get up. The tub’s almost full. You can have a soak while I wash your hair. I think it will take a few washes before we manage to get your hair clean.”

  “The last time I had someone in the bathroom with me I was little.”

  “Honey, you will lose all modesty on this journey. Best to start practicing now. Besides, I need to teach you how to wash your hair properly.”

  “I’ve been doing it myself for twenty-one years. I think I’ve got the hang of it by now.”

  “Not the way I do it. I’m also going to put some highlights through your hair, and don’t tell me you’ve been doing those yourself as well.”

  “I’m a village girl. Why would I need highlights?”

  “Is this you being uncooperative?”

  “No, this is me being curious. Uncooperative is a whole new level again.”

  “Well, I can’t tell the difference, so get up and I won’t report you to Miss Tule.”

  “You’re bossy.”

  “I’m only just getting started. Your water’s getting cold.”

  Marnena pulled the covers low, exposing me to the cool morning air. I had no choice but to scurry out of bed for the bathroom and onto the cold tiles. I stripped the pajamas I’d been given over my head and stepped into my mini pool. I inched low, allowing my skin to become accustomed to the temperature as my nose filled with the exotic smell of the fragrance she’d added to the water.

  I’d stood in the bathroom last night for a while marveling at the opulence and wondering if there was no end to the extravagance of this place. The guilt was real. I’d been transported not to my doom but someplace far above it. It felt wrong to enjoy my position when Mum and Marion still lived in that dust bowl. And what about Seb? Where had he ended up?

  “Is the temperature okay?” Lost in my painful thoughts, I jumped at her question.

  “It’s perfect.”

  She pulled up a stool behind me and positioned herself at my head.

  “Now, I want you to pay attention to what I say. There are various oils, rinses and conditioners for silky, luxurious hair. For best results, they need to go in the right order. My guess is you’ve never seen your real color under the muck that coats it.”

  “There wasn’t much need to bother with silky, shiny hair back home.”

  “Are you telling me there were no young men in your village?”

  “Of course there were.”

  “Then there was every reason to care about your personal appearance.”

  “They weren’t much better, so why should it be up to us girls to make the effort?” That wasn’t true. Shacks always made sure he looked good, but it didn’t seem to matter to him how I looked. Limited choice was the likely reason he wasn’t fussy.

  “Hold your breath,” Marnena warned before she dunked me under the water with a hand pushing firmly on my head.

  She handed me a cloth when I came up so I could wipe the water out of my eyes. “This is the first oil to apply.” She briefly showed me the bottle. “Oil of Eulet.”

  “Can we skip the monologue this morning and you just wash my hair?”

  She smacked me lightly on the shoulder. “Imp. Careful now or I’ll report you to Miss Tule.” I couldn’t see her, but her voice had a note of humor.

  “Will you tell me something about Miss Tule?”

  “You are a curious thing. Very well.” She huffed a breath. “Miss Tule has known great tragedy, but she is a survivor. And if you are respectful enough to her teachings, listen well and learn, she will teach you how to survive too.”

  “You make Fortescue sound dangerous.”

  “Don’t let the beauty of this city beguile you into believing you are safe. There is an undercurrent of danger driven by the greed and betrayal of some to the many. Forces are at play that threaten the safety of this great city and all of the territory.”

  Umm… “I wasn’t expecting you to say that.”

  “Perhaps I shouldn’t have said it. But something tells me you’re going to find out soon enough.”

  She fell silent as she busied herself washing my hair.

  “Is that all you’re going to say?”

  “You need to concentrate on how I do your hair.”

  “But you can’t just end it there. What am I going to find out?”

  “Save your questions for Miss Tule.”

  Marnena’s hands massaged my scalp with skill, but it bordered on painful. She was determined to remove every last trace of Ladec. She moved through each step in the process, ignoring my request of earlier, and explaining each product and its position in the sequence I was expected to follow.

  “I don’t understand why we’re bothering with all of this. If we’re going to be servants, what does it matter if my hair doesn’t shine?”

  “In this city, appearance is everything. People will judge you based on the way you look. And Miss Tule, as you are one of her proteges. Miss Tule’s girls are always impeccable. You’ll do well to remember that, as Miss Tule takes the appearance of her girls very seriously. That is why you are going to scrub yourself from head to toe.” She shoved a sponge into my hand, a bristly thing that was bound to strip skin from my body. “And when I say toes, I mean it—and yours are disgusting. I’ll be cutting those nails this morning.”

  “Who am I going to be a servant to and what will I be expected to do?”

  “Many and a lot is your answer. Now finish your bath so I may put highlights in your hair.” And with that she left me.

  Marnena returned while I was patting myself dry. My first instinct was to cover myself with the towel. But she bustled in without a care and surveyed my red-blotched skin, rasped raw from the sponge, and smile
d. “Excellent. You listened for once.” She hung the white jumpsuit she had slung over her arm on a hook near the full-length mirror and picked up a large pot of cream. “Apply it all over. But I have a different one for your hands. Those will need particular attention.”

  I spent the next two hours under Marnena’s care. She colored my hair, then managed to tame my unruly mess into a braid, which ran the length of my back. My nails were cut, buffed and painted. She hummed a tune while she did her work and I fought a smile.

  At last, Marnena claimed I was done and stood back so I could look at myself in the mirror. I didn’t recognize the girl staring back, the dark kohl under my eyes, my painted lips, even Mum would wonder who I was. The jumpsuit was loose but not overly baggy. Unlike any of the clothes we had access to in Ladec, the material was light and airy.

  With hands on hips, Marnena smiled. “Miss Tule should be satisfied.”

  “It doesn’t look like me.”

  “Change your thinking, my dear. Every time you look in the mirror you will say, This is the new me.”

  “If only Marion could see me. That’s my little sister. She was always trying…” I faded away because bringing her up dragged up all the memories, and those were too painful to allow out.

  Marnena caught the sadness in my expression and placed her hand on my arm. “Everyone has losses, child. This can be a cruel world.” She turned me to face her. “You can credit Miss Tule for this lesson, for she is the one to teach me. Never let your feelings show. For if someone knows your emotions, they will master you.”

  Seb had always managed to find the weak spots in my emotional armor. If there was anyone who could rile me, it was him. In those moments, I was open, honest and raw, and he certainly mastered me. But Marion and Seb were the only ones I trusted with my feelings.

  “There, you’re doing it again.” She shook me gently. “The memories will stop being so painful. They will, trust me.”

  “Do you think I could see my brother sometime? He was brought into the city too.”