Sacred Breath Series (Books 1-4)

by Nadia Scrieva

  “I’ve seen you fight. I’ve seen you command. As a war leader myself, I dislike the thought of you losing your army. And I’d much prefer to be meeting with you to plan the defense strategy than that stuck-up, boring, butch woman, Major Mardöll.”

  Visola relaxed a little bit at this. “Thanks for coming, Landou, but I don’t think it’s possible. It’s not just the American government. Russia is involved. The contract’s solid, as far as I know. I’m not officially supposed to know, but I do.”

  “I have clout with Russia as well. A few men positioned in the right places.”

  “Do you now?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. She could not resist a small smile. “This is starting to sound like my kind of deal. A little dark and underhanded. Tell me more.”

  “Well, the original treaty isn’t so bad to begin with, but I know you’re unhappy with the conditions. I think certain changes would really be doable. If you trust me, I can set the wheels in motion. You know I have great respect for you and for your people.” Marshal Landou was speaking in a low tone as he approached her. “If you ask me, I will go the extra distance and pull whatever strings I can.”

  Reading the expression on his face, she began to understand. “And you would expect, in return…”

  “I think you know,” he answered softly. “All I would like is for you to be my mistress.” He began slipping his hands under her winter coat to cup the curve of her hips.

  “Whoa!” Visola said, removing his hands. She released a small chuckle at the situation. “Landou, look. A few short months ago, if you’d approached me with a deal like this, I would have agreed in a heartbeat. You and I would probably be on the floor, doing it right now. Probably doggy-style. But anyway, I can’t—my husband’s back in my life, and I’m spoken for.”

  “Visola, do you understand what I’m offering? I can renegotiate the terms of the contract,” Landou said. He put his face very close to hers and uttered his ultimatum in a whisper. “This is your last chance to make a difference. I know you appreciate the opportunity. I wish I could offer to do it out of the goodness of my heart, but there isn’t much of that. It would be a lot of work on my part, and it could compromise my job altogether. I couldn’t do it for nothing.”

  Visola nodded, considering his words. “Let me think for a minute.” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and began to chew it pensively. She stared up at Marshal Landou’s dark eyes, trying to read his motives. Was he really as powerful as he implied? If she did agree to this deal, could he even deliver? And was it worth it? The contract for labor would only last about ten years, but if she accepted Landou’s offer she would lose Vachlan for much longer than that. She sighed.

  “It’s an easy decision, Visola. I can get you your army back.” As Landou said this, he was slinking his hands under her winter coat again. His thumbs brushed her nipples, and she used excessive force to disengage his hands and push him away.

  “Landou, this is my grandson’s house,” she said, unimpressed. “If you don’t have any respect for me because I’m a female foreigner, at least show some respect to Trevain who is a male national.”

  “That’s not what…”

  “Oh, Marshal. With people like you and me, it’s not about anything else. It’s always about the country and never about the woman. Just like Helen. Let’s pretend like we really, really care so that we have an excuse to fight a big war and sail around in our big boats.”

  “You don’t understand, Visola. We fought side by side, and I am not only attracted to you but I have begun growing attached. This was unexpected for me—I never imagined I would meet someone like you. A mermaid, hundreds of years old with superhuman abilities and the wickedest sense of humor I’ve ever encountered.” A smile transformed the man’s features, and it was charming. “I can’t get you out of my mind, and it’s far more than just a craving to be with you physically.”

  After careful consideration Visola said, “I’ll give you a seven out of ten for that pitch.”

  “It wasn’t a pitch.”

  “Points for trying to be original and complimenting my skill as a warrior. It’s the one thing I have the most pride in, and you knew that and tried to capitalize on it. I admire that kind of opportunism in a man. But still, only a seven.”

  “Fine, I’ll try harder. You know I like the thrill of you being married. Doesn’t it make it better, Visola? Isn’t the wrongness such a turn-on?”

  “My friend, I have done all kinds of wrongness that you have never dreamed. But there are certain lines of honor that should never be crossed.” Visola folded her arms across her chest. “Let’s reason this out, Landou. You’re offering me a chance to take back Adlivun by being with you.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “If I agree to be your mistress, you will pull your strings and find a way return my army and my job. While still maintaining Adlivun’s naval protection?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “I just lost my daughter. You’re asking me to sever ties with my husband as well. These lasts few weeks, as I’ve been lounging around in this house wearing pretty clothes and drinking weak concoctions, I’ve begun to realize just how precious my family really is. I lost my job, and I lost my mind for a little bit, but I was still valued. Isn’t that something? I was still loved, even at my worst. I would hate to toss that away for a chance to be the hero...”

  “General Ramaris, please consider…”

  “But being the hero is what I do. What you’re proposing is important. I need your help, regardless of the personal cost to me. The benefits to Adlivun would outweigh my personal losses…”

  “Then you will agree?” Landou asked.

  “I’m not finished reasoning!” she snapped with a frown. “You see, there’s one very important element that we haven’t considered. If I become your mistress, Adlivun will be trampled into dust anyway. It wouldn’t matter, all our bargaining and manipulating.”

  “I’m not sure I get your meaning. Trampled to dust?” His face screwed up in confusion. “Are you feeling okay, Visola? Should I maybe come back another time?”

  “My husband is a bigger douchebag than you are,” she explained. “If I actually do to Vachlan what he already thought I did to him once, his reaction will be more detrimental and world-shattering than anything the Clan of Zalcan or the United States could do to us. I couldn’t do that to him. He’s not a nice guy. He’s the Destroyer.”

  “And what use is a man like that to you? You need a protector, not a destroyer. You need someone who can lay armies and navies at your feet and order them to kiss the toes of your boots.”

  “If you can give it to me so easily, you can also take it away,” Visola responded. “The moment I displeased you, or the moment you decided to move on to your next married-woman-conquest, bam! There goes everything, flushed down the toilet.”

  “I recognize the significance of what I’m offering, General. I wouldn’t do this lightly. You know that I’m trying to help…”

  “While trying to bang my brains out,” she added. “It’s pretty routine stuff. I’m not a stranger to these types of bargains.”

  “Why don’t you take some time to deliberate?” Landou suggested. “This is probably your last chance to change Adlivun’s fate. I wouldn’t refuse so hastily.”

  She nodded. “Fine. Let me think about it.”

  Vachlan was training in the private armory of Upper Adlivun when Visola entered the room. Not having expected any visitors, he reflexively drew a gun and pointed it at her chest. When his mind caught up with his body, he lowered the weapon. “Damn, Viso,” he said, reaching up to scratch under his black ponytail. “Wasn’t expecting you. Are you feeling better?”

  “Yes,” she answered, with a face like death. “I’ll make this fast: I need a divorce. Okay, bye.”

  She turned and left the room as swiftly as she had entered. Vachlan stared after her, his eyebrows lifted in bewilderment. “But there’s no such thing,” he argued to the empty sp
ace where she had been standing a moment before. He tossed down his gun with a groan before running after her.

  When he caught up with her, he grabbed her elbow. “What happened? What’s going on? Did you stop taking the medication…”

  “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I’m so sorry, but I need to go.”

  “Go where?” he demanded. “I thought you were just taking a vacation to relax…”

  “I was,” she answered, evading his grasp and moving away. “I just can’t be with you anymore. It’s for the best. I was going to screw it up anyway.”

  “Visola, what the hell happened?” Vachlan asked. He followed her, and finally grabbed her waist and tackled her to the ground. “I thought you were feeling better.”

  “I am,” she told him, as she pulled her face off the frozen ground. She rotated her body so that she was facing him, and she immediately found that the icy chill in his grey eyes was colder than the floor.

  “You’re shaking,” Vachlan observed with a frown. “Are you ill? Is Sionna okay?”

  “Everything’s fine,” she said. “Except for you and me. Not because of us—I think we were good together. But I spent a lot of time without you, and I am used to having more… flexibility. I need to repossess the stuff that’s exclusively yours so that I can sell it again for profit.”

  “Explain.”

  “I received an offer. I’m going to make a deal to fix the army and the bridge.”

  Vachlan tilted his head to the side in stupefaction. “A deal? No one can alter that contract. It’s as good as signed in blood.”

  “Marshal Landou said he’ll find a way to renegotiate the terms if I agree to be his mistress.”

  Vachlan stared down at her in shock. “You accepted this?”

  “No, but I’m going to. I want Adlivun to have a better bargain.”

  “I won’t let you do that. It’s unwise anyway, because he doesn’t have the power to do what he’s promising. You’re smarter than to fall for that.”

  “Maybe he does, maybe he doesn’t. But it’s just this—” Visola gestured down at herself with a callous shrug. “This means nothing. It’s just one stupid female body. Why not? It’s like trading pennies for diamonds. Even if Adlivun doesn’t get the diamonds, all I lost was a few pennies. It won’t make me broke or broken.”

  “You’re not pennies to me,” he told her firmly. “I understand why this deal is attractive to you, and I obviously want to unhinge every bone in that man’s body and make a little statuette from his vertebrae, but you really should not agree to this, Visola.”

  “What else can I do?”

  “Oh, I have an idea. We can fake him out; sell your sister to him.”

  “That bastard isn’t touching the bottom of my sister’s shoe!” Visola shouted.

  “See?” Vachlan said, planting a kiss on Visola’s nose. “So then how can I let him touch you?”

  She shook her head. “I’m nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

  “It matters to me!” he said, standing up furiously. “I’ve been everywhere and done everything, Viso—you’re my endgame. There’s nothing else out there. I would have absolutely nothing to do if I lost you, and life would become incredibly boring. In short, you’re everything to me.”

  “That’s a cliché,” she commented. Even so, there was a tiny smile on her face and she rose from the ground where she had been tackled, smoothing the wrinkles out of her clothes.

  “Everything I could possibly say to you right now would sound clichéd, corny, and ridiculous,” Vachlan said, “but… Visola! Forget the fucking contract. Forget the army. Forget Landou’s schemes. How many times are we going to let other people tear us apart?”

  “But I have an obligation…” she whispered.

  “To me,” Vachlan said. “To me. I will carry the logs for you. I will happily get my hands dirty, and toil at that godforsaken bridge twelve hours a day, seven days a week, doing harder, more menial labor than I’ve ever done in my life if it means we can be together.”

  Visola felt her lungs expand as she sighed. “I don’t think there are going to be any logs.”

  “It’s from Shakespeare. Ferdinand said to Miranda, ‘The very instant that I saw you did my heart fly to your service; there resides, to make me slave to it; and for your sake am I this patient log-man.’”

  “You’re quoting Him to me?”

  “So you see to what level I would reduce myself for you?” Vachlan asked. He smiled at her, reaching down to take her hands and kiss each of her knuckles. These were the same knuckles he had once slowly broken one at a time. “I can deal with any kind of humiliation and hardship, as long as you’re mine. Remember when you said you’d rather be my prisoner than apart from me? I’d rather be a slave and be with you than be free, wealthy, successful, and famous alone. You name the greatest possible sacrifice and I’ll give it up for you. You name the ultimate seductive temptation, and I’ll ignore it for you. I’m your log-man.”

  “No way. You’re the most blue-blooded, white-collared guy I know. And the biggest douchebag,” she said fondly.

  He smiled. “I’ll gladly be a common laborer, Visola. Let’s give a shot—let’s be normal people. Let’s be pawns instead of knights and bishops. Give me a hard hat and steel-toed boots, and I’m ready to get to work on the railroad.”

  “Fine,” she said. “I like your deal better than his. But I have a condition.”

  “State your terms, woman.”

  “This is going to be the craziest thing you’ve ever heard me say,” she said, hesitating. “It might not be possible for me. I’m not young anymore… but I want you to give me another baby.”

  Vachlan nodded, and he wrapped his arms around his wife and held her tightly against his chest. “We’ll try,” he said, kissing her ear. “I would like a chance to do things the right way.”

  Chapter 17: Lost in Vostok

  She was so cold that she could not remember who she was.

  Curled up into a small fetal circle, her shoulders were erratically jerking back and forth with disturbingly rapid involuntary motions. It seemed she had been woken up by the violent shivering of her body trying to keep itself warm. She was vaguely aware of the fact that whoever she was, it was expected of her to maintain control of her body. It was expected of her to have composure. But all that she could think of was staying alive. Although wrapped in layers of thick fur, the cold seemed to penetrate everything. Every inch of her skin was contracted in gooseflesh. Her arms crossed themselves protectively over her abdomen as she curled herself up into a tiny ball.

  After several minutes of this, she began to feel numb to the sharp pain of the cold. Once a certain threshold had been breached, her body seemed to stop caring and just accepted that she was not going to placate its whining. The natural painkiller of the icy wind allowed her to crack open a pair of frosty eyelashes to examine her surroundings.

  Ice, and snow, and mountains. As far as the eye could see, there was only whiteness illuminated by the starlight. It was a comforting sight, for it meant she was close to home. It resembled everything she had ever known. Alaska? Northern Canada? Siberia? Scandinavia? It did not matter—she knew it all, and knowing this reminded her of her own identity. Confidence flooded her when her memories returned, and along with them came a resilient inner warmth. She remembered that her body had a natural heightened tolerance for cold weather, and she was assured that she would soon find her way home.

  It might even be a bit of an adventure. She could remember the faces of the people she loved most. Her husband, her sister, her friends. Soon, she would be telling them the details of this debacle, and it would certainly make a good story. Even if it was a bit of a long walk, there was no danger of dehydration. She would find the nearest city and go from there. She could not remember how she had ended up in the middle of an endless ice field to begin with, but she would be fine. She should get moving.

  The familiar stars would guide her home. She could easily use them to find so
uth, and she would just travel in that direction until she found a road. It would not be easy, but it was achievable. She gathered her strength and turned her eyes upward. What she saw caused her to blink to try and clear her vision. There were more stars than before. The stars were far brighter than before. She squinted, staring up at the sky with incredulity. This could not be. Nothing was familiar. Nothing was as it should be. Her throat had suddenly gone very dry. Her thoughts swam in bewilderment. Was she losing her mind? Was she seeing a distorted reality? Was she on a different planet? The realization hit her like a boulder to the chest, knocking the breath out of her.

  She was not in the Northern Hemisphere. From the looks of it, she was not anywhere near the Northern Hemisphere. Home was not a short walk away. Home was not even a long walk away.

  There was a loud mechanical noise nearby, and she pulled herself off the ground defensively. She found that the sudden motion made her quite dizzy. In the dim lighting, she could discern that a man with a scarred visage was ascending from a giant opening in the ground.

  “Queen Aazuria, you’re finally awake. I believe the last dose I gave you was too high.”

  She recalled hazy images of needles being driven into her arms. She recalled dreamlike sensations of being jostled roughly against an unfinished wooden surface. She remembered uneven thumping that could have been a motor vehicle on a road, and she remembered a massive roar that could have been an airborne craft. She remembered more fuzzy needles—she remembered worrying that the sedatives would cause harm to her unborn child. She remembered blinding pain in her abdomen, and fearing that she had suffered a miscarriage. She remembered bleeding endlessly and losing her baby again and again—but those had surely been nightmares, right? She recalled the gentle swaying of the ocean, but every vision was veiled in a muddled mist.

  “Are you cold?” he asked. “The coldest temperature on earth was recorded in this very spot. I bet you’re cold.”

  She considered all the possible retorts and answers. She considered launching herself at the man immediately and engaging him in combat. Instead, she just nodded. “Yes,” she said. When her lips parted, and a fog of vapor escaped her lips, she immediately missed the warmth she had lost from speaking that single word.