“Daygan.” Her stomach rebelled. Bile crept up her throat, gagging her. She retched, dry heaved then forced the vomit back down.
A flame formed in his large hand. He tossed it at a torch that hung from the wall. The dim light cast a black shadow across his eerie grin. “Ahh…I’m honored to see you remember me.” He bowed low, sweeping his arm in front of him. He stood outside the bars of the cage where he’d imprisoned her.
She tried to study him, but his dark hair and clothing blended with the shadows, cloaking him in blackness.
She forced her gaze away from him to survey her surroundings. Nothing. A dirt floor, four walls and a ceiling built from metal bars. She was literally imprisoned in a cage.
Blood seeped from her arm, dripped onto her leg. She pressed her hand to the wound in an effort to stop the bleeding. Her hand came away slick with blood. The puncture burned, heated her entire arm. Then she remembered. A chill coursed through her. A bite mark. Had the savage poisoned her?
“I can help you with that, my dear.” Daygan’s smiled.
Ice water rushed through her veins. Ryleigh scowled, ignoring him as she ripped the sleeve from her sweater and tied it around the wound.
Daygan’s gasp alerted her.
She looked up an instant before the cage door was ripped from its hinges. He’d never moved a muscle, yet the door had torn off and now lay crumpled in a heap across the room.
Ryleigh ducked. She flung herself to the corner of her prison, covered her head with her hands and cowered.
Daygan grabbed her arm and dragged her from the cage. He shoved her against the wall beneath the torch, but didn’t release her. “What is this? Where did you get this?” Fire burned in his eyes.
She tried to convince herself it was nothing more than a reflection from the flame on the torch.
She glanced down at her arm and instantly realized her mistake. The tattoo encircling her arm glowed a dim purple. White light weaved between the purple lines. Oh crap. She’d forgotten about the mark. She looked back to him. “Uh…it’s…um…” She clamped her teeth together, tried to think faster.
“Don’t play games with me? Have you always had this mark?”
She eagerly nodded her head. She wouldn’t mention the Ordination Ceremony, or the fact that Jackson was now a Death Dealer. Didn’t want to give this crazy bastard any more information than he already had.
“Do you know what this is?” He squeezed her upper arm, lifting it as if he could shove it in front of her eyes. Her shoulder burned.
She turned her gaze to the mark then shook her head no. Her heart hammered in her chest, painful as it smacked repeatedly against her ribs.
“This, my precious prisoner, is the mark of a Princess of Cymmera. But, more importantly, it shows the symbol of the future Queen.” Daygan finally dropped her arm. He paced away from her.
She glanced around, frantically searching for an escape. There had to be something, a door, a window, an air vent. She couldn’t find any opening. Dirt walls surrounded her, closed in on her, suffocated her. She gasped. She couldn’t breathe, needed air desperately.
Daygan turned back to her. “Don’t even bother looking for a way out. There is none. Not for you anyway.” He dismissed her and turned to pace again. When he turned back, a frown creased his brow. “A descendant of the former King.” Daygan mumbled more to himself than to her.
She strained to hear his words.
“If King Raya had another child, that child would have been the rightful heir to the throne.” He tapped his finger against his lips. A slow smile spread across his face. “Looks like King Maynard’s reign has come to an end. It’s time for the rightful ruler to ascend the throne.”
Ryleigh’s hands shook. She brushed her hair behind her ear, sat up straighter against the wall. “What are you talking about?” She’d tried to make her voice more forceful, defiant. Instead, only a raspy whisper emerged.
He moved toward her. Slowly. His black robe flowed behind him. “You, my dear have every right to take your place as Queen of Cymmera. You must be a descendant of the original King.” He bent toward her, leaned into her face.
His rancid breath washed over her. Hot. Foul.
She gagged. Cringed.
“King Maynard stole the throne from your ancestors. It’s time for you to take back what’s yours.” He stuck his tongue out. Long, pointed, crusty.
She tried to turn her head away, pressed her cheek against the dirt wall.
He held tightly to her chin as he ran his tongue up the side of her face.
The stench sent the bile rushing back up her throat. She held her breath, forced back the urge to vomit.
“Of course, a woman has no place ruling a Kingdom. You will need a king at your side.”
Ryleigh fought. She pushed him away, struggled to free herself from his grip.
He grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet.
She kicked him, slammed her elbow into his ribs, scratched him. She missed his eyes, but managed to leave three long gouges down the side of his face.
He shoved her back against the wall, his hand splayed forcefully against her throat.
She couldn’t breathe.
Darkness intruded, tunneled her vision. White spots danced before her eyes. Her arms fell to her sides, and she went limp.
He threw her to the ground.
She heaved in a breath, filling her lungs with the foul, moldy air.
Daygan leaned over her. “I will only offer once. You can go along with me, and you will be queen. Think of the power you’ll wield. I am a powerful sorcerer. I can offer you everything you could ever imagine. And, in return, I will take my place at you side as King of the richest realm in existence.”
“Rich?” Confusion chased away some of the encroaching darkness. She pushed herself up to sit. “I thought Cymmera was dying?”
“Who cares?” Daygan waved a hand.
The dismissive gesture irritated Ryleigh.
“Once we mine all of the riches, we’ll go find another kingdom to conquer.” When he met her gaze his eyes were euphoric.
She was trapped underground with a madman. Goose bumps crawled over Ryleigh’s skin.
“There is so much to do to prepare.” He clapped his hands together. “I will leave you to think about my offer.”
Ryleigh’s gaze quickly darted to the cage door crumpled in the corner.
His laughter sent a shiver up her spine. “Don’t worry, my dear, the cage was only for effect. You’re trapped here. There’s no way out for you. Unless you choose to join me, that is.”
He moved toward her.
She cringed, terrified he would touch her again.
Then he lifted his arms, stepped through the portal, and was gone.
When the portal closed, the torch flickered once and died, plunging her into complete darkness.
Ryleigh’s heart rate kicked up. Adrenaline surged through her system.
He didn’t know. Daygan didn’t realize she could open a portal to Cymmera.
She jumped quickly to her feet. Too quickly. Her head spun. She reached for the dirt wall to steady herself. Pain tore through her arm. Her face burned where Daygan had licked her. Blackness suffocated her.
She forced all of it ruthlessly aside. Focus. Concentrate. You can do this. She clapped her hands together, lifted them. She tried to picture the castle, Jackson’s chamber. For all she knew it had already been overrun by savages. Mia. She had to get to her sister. But where would she be? Ryleigh had no idea how long she’d been unconscious. How long she’d been imprisoned. Indecision paralyzed her.
She tried to tell herself it didn’t matter. Time moved differently in all of the realms anyway. She just had to escape her prison then she could worry about everything else. An image of the tunnel she’d been taken from formed in her mind. She grabbed hold of it, clung to it desperately as she ripped her hands apart.
Ryleigh fell through the portal and landed sprawled, f
ace down on the dirt floor of the dimly lit tunnel. She inhaled deeply sucking loose dirt into her mouth. She choked. She had to get out of there before Daygan returned and found her gone. She struggled to her feet, holding the wall for support and cradling her injured arm to her chest.
Ryleigh looked around. She had no clue which way to go, couldn’t find footprints in the hard packed dirt, didn’t see any familiar signs to tell her she’d passed through before. She started to walk, slowly, struggling to clear the fog from her head.
What was that? A sound echoed through the tunnel. She froze, stood perfectly still, listened intently as she tried to determine which way the noise had come from. No use. She couldn’t tell. She started forward again, careful not to jolt her arm. Another sound reached her. This time, the unmistakable click of a door falling shut. Ryleigh turned and ran.
“Hey! Ryleigh. Wait, it’s me.”
The familiar voice reached her ears, but it took another minute for her brain to process. Jackson. She stopped and turned to face him.
He almost ran right into her. “Ryleigh, are you okay?”
She fell into his arms and sobbed. She didn’t even try to regain control, desperately needing the release. “Mia?”
“Shh…It’s all right. I have you now. Mia’s with Dakota. She’s safe.”
She relaxed into his strength.
He held her tightly to his chest, rubbed his hand in circles on her back.
Her injured arm caught between them, burning furiously. Fear of Daygan finding them pounded through her head. She pushed everything aside in her need for comfort only Jackson could offer.
Her sobs finally began to subside.
Jackson held her upper arms and moved her back to examine her. He stroked his fingers lightly down her cheek. “You’re injured.”
She was? The sting on her cheek reminded her of Daygan’s repulsive tongue. She cringed. Had it left a mark?
Jackson examined her arm. “A savage bite can be dangerous. We have to get you out of here then I’ll heal you as best I can and send for Kiara.” He studied her eyes, held her gaze with his. “Okay?”
She nodded, grateful he didn’t press her for answers about what had happened. She wasn’t ready to talk about it yet, needed some space, desperately needed to be out from beneath the ground.
Jackson kept his arm tightly around her as they made their way back through the vault and into the castle.
A guard stood at attention beside the door to Jackson’s chamber. “Send for Kiara, immediately.”
“Yes, sir.” He bowed his head, and Jackson continued into his rooms. He led her to the couch.
Nika and Nahara were on her instantly. Nahara nuzzled Ryleigh’s head and whined while Nika stood over her, his stance not aggressive, but definitely protective.
“It’s all right, guys. She’s going to be fine.” Jackson propped several pillows behind her and eased her back against them. He pulled a chair from the table, placed it beside the couch and sat facing her. When he clapped his hands together and rubbed them back and forth, a small ball of flame emerged. He held it cradled in his palm.
Ryleigh gasped. “How did you do that?” She watched mesmerized and he rolled the ball around his hand, then weaved it between his fingers, never faltering as the light wound its way around his hand. He tossed the light back and forth from one hand to the other.
When she was able to pull her gaze away from the light, she looked to Jackson. His familiar, cocky grin sent a surge of warmth rushing through her. She smiled back at him, couldn’t help it. She shook her head. Only Jackson could elicit such strong feelings in her amid the chaos her life had become.
“Here, relax.”
She tried to let her body relax. Loosen the knots cramping her muscles.
The light Jackson had been toying with surrounded his hands in a flaming halo. He pressed them against her injured arm.
Heat seeped into her. Not the burning pain she’d felt earlier, but a soothing warmth that eased the worst of the pain.
He caressed her cheek, leaving a trail of warmth along the path he’d followed.
He leaned toward her. His lips barely brushed hers as he shifted to sit beside her on the couch. He pulled back, looked into her eyes, searching for something. Acceptance? Whatever it was, he must have found it, because the next time his lips touched hers it was with no gentle brush. Hunger emanated from him.
Answering desire coursed through her.
He wrapped his arms around her, pulled her closer until her body pressed against the hard muscles of his chest. His heart pounded through her, keeping time with her own. He pulled away. Cradled her cheeks between his hands. “I want you, Ryleigh.” He lowered his gaze. “Every time I’m near you…” He shook his head and lifted his gaze to hers. “I can’t resist the urge to claim you much longer.”
“Jacks—”
“Jackson.” The door was flung open. “You must come.” Tears tracked down Kiara’s cheeks.
Ryleigh’s heart stopped.
“What’s happened?” Jackson pulled away from Ryleigh. He stood.
Kiara stared at him, pain carved in every line of her face. “Your father.” She lowered her head. A deep, grief filled sob wracked her small frame. “I’m so sorry.”
Jackson didn’t say a word. He clamped his teeth together and walked toward the door.
Kiara stepped aside to let him pass then she turned and followed him.
Nahara whimpered.
The sound broke the trance that had gripped Ryleigh, held her immobile. Confusion washed over her. What had happened? “It’s all right, girl.” She stood up and went to comfort the grieving hound. She pushed her fingers through the soft fur of Nahara’s head, leaned against her, and wrapped her arms around the massive neck, taking as much comfort as she gave.
“Aww…isn’t that sweet.”
Ryleigh jumped and swung around to face the door.
Kai.
She hadn’t even heard him come in.
Nika growled deep in his throat.
“Hush.”
The hound stopped growling at the sound of Kai’s voice, but didn’t relax his stance.
Nahara rose to stand beside him.
Ryleigh desperately wanted to know what was going on, but she didn’t dare ask Kai. The warrior still scared her. “Jackson’s not here, Kai.”
His gaze slid over her, landed on her arm.
Too late, she reached up and covered the mark. She started to turn back to Nahara, but Kai’s words stopped her.
“You know, with King Maynard gone, I’ll need a Queen.” Kai’s gaze slid over her.
Ryleigh shuddered. She fought the urge to tell him he wasn’t going to be king. Kept her lips pressed tightly together, the words dammed behind them.
“I suppose you’ll do. It’s obvious you are Cymmera’s newest Princess, since you somehow bear the mark of the Queen.” Kai scoffed. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re nothing more than a gold digger.” He shrugged. “Which is fine with me, but you’re barking up the wrong tree, as they say. Perhaps you’d like to be my queen.”
Ryleigh studied his intense black gaze. Disgust washed over her. She turned away and buried her face in Nahara’s thick coat.
“Is that your answer then?”
She ignored him.
His laughter seeped through her, chilling her all the way to her bones.
“That’s fine, Ryleigh.”
The sound of her name rolling off his tongue hit her like ice.
“You don’t have to answer me now. Take some time. Think about it. I need a princess to become my queen. If you’re not interested, the other one will do just fine.”
* * * *
Jackson entered his father’s chamber.
Streaks of sunlight streamed through the open drapes creating a halo around the lifeless form of his father. His King.
Jackson was alone. He’d thought Chayce might still be there, but he wasn
’t. It was probably for the best. He approached his father’s bed and dropped to his knees on the floor beside him.
His father’s hand was cold when he grasped it in both of his and held it tightly. He lowered his forehead to rest on their linked hands. “I’m so sorry, Father. I feel as if I failed you.” Guilt burned a hole in his gut. He couldn’t help feeling he’d let his father down in some way. Images of his father flashed through Jackson’s mind.
A younger King Maynard, staring at the child Jackson had been, pain and grief marring his once handsome features. His father staring at Jackson as a teenager, his jaw clenched tight in anger when Jackson and Dakota had taken two of the Death Dealer’s dragons to see what it would be like.
A small jolt of humor hit him at that memory.
His father had been so angry and yet…Jackson had been sure he’d seen just a hint of pride in the old man’s eyes.
He lifted his head to look at his father, squeezed his hand, rested his lips against it.
An image of his father sitting on his throne, disappointment filling his eyes when Jackson had failed to acquire Ryleigh.
Jackson’s hands began to warm. A tingling feeling began in his fingers. It traveled up his arm to explode in a burst of warmth in his chest.
A vision of the pride on his father’s face during Jackson’s Ordination Ceremony. The mixture of happiness and sadness when he first realized Ryleigh was truly a lost Princess of Cymmera.
His father had been a good man, a strong leader.
Fear consumed Jackson. How would he ever take his father’s place? Rule with the fairness and discipline his father had balanced so well? Insecurity fueled the fear. He once again thought of allowing Kai to remain in charge.
The warrior had so much more experience, so much more confidence.
Another image came to Jackson. A battlefield. His father’s broken body lying on the ground. Kai turning his back and walking away, leaving him to his fate.
No!
He had no clue what had happened to his mentor, but you didn’t leave your King. You battled to the death to save your leader, or any man.
Jackson had been taught that lesson since he was a child. He couldn’t believe Kai had abandoned King Maynard to save his men. He’d seen the look in the eyes of every Death Dealer on that field, had met each of their stares for just an instant.
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