Sacred Breath Series (Books 1-4)

by Nadia Scrieva

  “I usually am,” Vachlan said with a groan. Another thought struck him, and his chin jerked up in sudden awareness. “Fuck! Now that I think about it, Marshal Landou has been visiting with Trevain quite frequently. Sionna said the symptoms were similar to Alcie’s… I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been poisoning my grandson as well.”

  Aazuria was surprised when she bit down on her lip so hard that she tasted blood. “Who is this man?”

  “Marshal Gaston Landou, an American army leader,” Vachlan responded. “I just don’t understand why he…”

  “Gaston,” Aazuria repeated, her whole neck breaking out into a cold sweat. She drew a ragged breath, feeling her insides burning as though she had consumed boiling oil. “Gaston. That was the name Prince Zalcan Hamnil said moments before I killed him. Vachlan—this American man is working with the Clan.”

  Vachlan stared at her, trying to process this information. “I thought I knew all of their agents,” he muttered, letting his face fall forward into his palms. “This is my fault. I underestimated them—I let that man get close to my family!”

  “I will take care of everything,” Aazuria said softly. “Look at me, Vachlan Suchos. Look at me!”

  He slowly raised his shameful eyes. “You don’t understand. That letter was my forgiveness from her. It was the most sacred thing I ever owned; the faint evidence that my daughter might have had a single kind thought about me.”

  “What do you expect? The first time she saw you, it was shortly after you had tortured Visola nearly to death,” Aazuria reminded him with a frown. “She vowed never to speak to you, and… well, it doesn’t matter. You can’t dwell on that now; you have a second chance to know the love of a child. Just don’t ruin it again.”

  “It’s too late,” Vachlan said, rising to his feet. “I’m going to fuck up worse than before.”

  Aazuria felt a shiver again at the tone in his voice. “What do you mean?”

  “She didn’t forgive me. Why should I forgive myself and try to be a better man? She hated me. Tell me that she didn’t hate my guts, Aazuria!”

  “I’m not the person you want to discuss difficult father-daughter relationships with,” Aazuria said lightly.

  “I wish you hadn’t told me,” he said quietly. “This changes everything for me.”

  “Vachlan,” she whispered.

  “I’m leaving here, Aazuria. You’d better take care of Visola, because I’m leaving here.”

  “What do you plan to do?”

  “What I do best, of course.” The muscles in his neck were strained. “Destroy.”

  “You should destroy. You have every right. If someone harmed my daughter, I would lose my mind. But please, let’s do this together. Let us act in a precisely measured way. You cannot harm Visola and her child in the process of doing this. Because Sedna help me! If you leave her again, you will have to answer to me. Stay with us and lead us into battle against Emperor Zalcan, and I will throw all of Adlivun behind you.”

  “It isn’t yours to command any longer!” he shot back.

  “Isn’t it?” Aazuria asked with a smile. “Every man, woman, and child in this country will lay their lives down for the prophesized Sapphire. Even without telling them my name, I became the people’s queen again. Not one of them would follow the woman they call the harlot, but they would all follow me before I had even breathed the command.”

  “I can’t think right now,” Vachlan said, beginning to pace. He closed his eyes. “I have so many ideas of how to do this—but every method has huge collateral damage. What do you want me to do, Queen Aazuria?”

  “Whatever you want,” she answered instantly. “You are the man who once toppled nations for personal amusement. This is the type of situation I trust you with implicitly.”

  He nodded. “Okay. I’m going to kill them all.”

  She curled her lips upward in a subtle smile. “I knew you would.”

  “First things first! I suddenly feel the urge to start a wee bit of an epidemic.” Vachlan’s dark brows furrowed as he spoke. “Just a warning: I’m not going to spare their children or women, Aazuria. They didn’t spare my child. I’m going to take the worst disease I can find and unleash it on them.”

  “It’s good to talk to someone I know,” Aazuria mused. “I do believe I have missed even your monstrous ways.”

  “Capital idea!” Vachlan said, snapping his fingers. “Lawless felons make the best associates. And speaking of unscrupulous old friends, I should pay a visit to a good chum of mine.”

  “Chum?”

  “The man who runs the Arabian Seas. Scourge of the Indian Ocean and enemy to the Clan of Zalcan.” Vachlan was already grinning viciously. “He’s a man who can hold a grudge. I like him. Why do you think there has been such a huge surge in piracy off the coast of Somalia in the past few years? We aren’t the only ones pissed off at the Clan. Those pirates are displaced sea-dwellers—the Mami Wata. They’re raiding ships and amassing supplies for battle—if there aren’t valuables on the boats they attack, they hold them ransom to gather financial resources. The leader of the pirates is an old buddy of mine from my slaving days; his name is Olokun.”

  “You are as impressive as ever,” Aazuria said with a pleased nod, “and here I was believing the rumors that writing romance caused you to become squishy and spineless.”

  “Visola started those rumors,” Vachlan said. “She thinks that I’ve been idle while enjoying the peace, but it isn’t true. She’s got control of the military at home, but foreign connections have always been my specialty.”

  “Of course. You are the pivotal Falcon.”

  “What?”

  Aazuria cocked her head to the side. “The priestess said you would change everything.”

  “I know one thing for sure,” Vachlan said firmly. “I am not a fucking writer anymore.”

  Chapter 15: Mosquitoes in Winter

  “He will make a full recovery before the sun rises again,” Sionna said with a smile.

  Elandria clutched Trevain’s hand tightly as she emitted a sigh of relief. “Thank Sedna!”

  “I think we should be thanking Aunt Sio,” Trevain said with amusement. “She worked day and night to cure me.”

  “You’re family, kid. I couldn’t let you just shrivel up and die.” Sionna tugged her gloves off with slow, exhausted movements. “Personally, I’m just thankful the chemist got here when she did.”

  “You know who I believe we should all thank,” a voice said from the doorway. Everyone turned to see Vachlan standing there, fully dressed in black armor. “How about Marshal Landou? How about we give him the credit for all this?”

  “What are you talking about?” Sionna asked, shrugging out of her lab coat. “I’m supposed to see him later.”

  “You’re not going anywhere near him,” Vachlan commanded. He turned to his grandson. “Trevain—have you accepted food or drink from Gaston Landou?”

  “Yes,” the king answered with a frown. “Of course. Several times.”

  “No, Vachlan,” Sionna said quietly, pausing with her lab coat hanging off one arm. “You cannot be saying what I think you’re saying. The toxins in his system were naturally occurring chemicals he could have digested…”

  “It was deliberate, Sionna. I bet you knew that this was a deliberate poisoning, but you didn’t know who was responsible. I’m telling you now… I know for sure.”

  Shaking her head slowly from side to side, the doctor allowed her coat to fall from her arm to the ground. “The concentration was unusually high,” she said softly. “It could have been administered in intermittent small doses so that it would look like he succumbed to a natural illness…”

  “The same way he killed Alcyone,” Vachlan said.

  Everyone in the room was silenced. Elandria removed her hand from her husband’s and lifted it to cover her mouth. Trevain bolted off the hospital bed as though he had never been ill. Ignoring his limp to move across the room in an instant, he gripped Vachlan by the sh
oulders. “Where are you getting this from? Do you have evidence?”

  “Would I make an accusation like that unless I had evidence?” Vachlan asked angrily, removing Trevain’s hands from his shoulders. “He’s with the Clan. He’s been playing us for years.”

  “God, I’m stupid,” Trevain said savagely. “I nearly died over a few beers with that man! He said he would offer my mother ‘special care.’ I trusted him… I trusted him to help me search for Aazuria. Can you torture him, Vachlan? Can you torture him for information on what happened to her?”

  “Don’t worry your little head, grandson.” Vachlan’s lips curled deviously. “I will be torturing him every day for the rest of our lives. I have to leave immediately, but can I entrust you with the task of making sure that the man remains unharmed?”

  “I’m not sure,” Trevain answered. He felt Elandria’s arms slip around his waist comfortingly, and he rubbed her back in absentminded gratitude. “If that man really did kill my mother, why should I protect him?”

  “Because, dear boy, this man deserves a fate far worse than death. He needs to suffer for a few excruciating centuries, and I’m the best person to inflict slow, sustainable torture.” Vachlan chewed on his lip thoughtfully. “You see, the trick is control. You must be disciplined and meticulous. When I return, perhaps I’ll let you watch me work sometimes and I can teach you a few things. It will be a wonderful little family bonding routine.”

  “Oh, Vachlan,” Elandria said in disappointment. “You will never change.”

  “If by ‘change,’ my queen, you mean that I will never become merciful, you are quite right about that.” He felt a little awkward addressing Elandria by her title when he knew it was somewhat false. It had never bothered him to be duplicitous in the past, so he casually shrugged the sensation off. “I have a task for you as well, Elandria.”

  “Oh?”

  “There is an orphaned little girl I would like you and Trevain to take care of. I found her alone on the streets of Lower Adlivun, and she won’t speak a single word. Hardly even sign language! I thought that if anyone could understand and reach her, it would be someone who previously found it challenging to speak. Maybe you can help her through her trauma?”

  Elandria’s expression softened. “It would be my honor, Vachlan. That is such a compassionate request.” She turned to her husband, beseechingly. “Do you mind, darling?”

  Trevain gave a slow nod. “We will try our best.”

  “Good. One final thing. If I don’t return by the end of this year, I want you to give this to my wife.” Reaching into his breast pocket, Vachlan pulled out a letter and handed it to Sionna. “Directions to the locations of more gold than any of you will ever know what to do with. Please take care of Visola for me.”

  “You’re leaving her,” Sionna said, staring at the letter. Her reptilian eyes shot up to appraise Vachlan judgmentally. “Now, of all times?”

  “Now is the best time. It’s the only time.”

  “She’s going to need you,” Sionna said in a low voice.

  “I can be of more use to her on the other side of the planet,” he answered. “Trust me.”

  “Trust you? Do I look as intellectually-challenged as my sister?” Sionna hissed.

  “You look basically identical to her,” Vachlan answered truthfully.

  “You are a fool!” Sionna hissed. “You are both fools.”

  The red-haired woman bustled past Vachlan and into the corridor. “Excuse me,” he said to Trevain and Elandria before chasing after Sionna. “Sio! Listen, this needs to be done. And I need your help.”

  “You want my help in betraying Visola?” she asked. “Are you mad?”

  “No. I want your help in protecting her, which is what you asked me to do in the first place. Listen,” he said, looking around and lowering his voice. “I spoke to Aazuria.”

  Sionna visibly flinched. “What is going to happen?”

  “She needs my help. She has given me orders. Visola can’t know that I’m leaving, and she can’t know where I’m going or she’ll want to come after me. It’s far too dangerous.”

  “She likes it dangerous.”

  “Oh, I know. After all, she does like me, for some strange reason.” Vachlan sighed, reaching up to undo his hair from its little ponytail and let it spill out around his neck. “My foremost duty is to protect Visola from herself. So, dear sister-in-law, can I trouble you for some bacteria?”

  “Bacteria?” Sionna said curiously.

  Vachlan smiled. “They poisoned Alcyone and Trevain. I feel the need to poison their entire country with some sort of unprecedented plague. Will you assist me?”

  Sionna remained motionless for a second. “Cholera is a classic, but it needs to be ingested. There’s tuberculosis, but I’m not too sure I trust you with that. We could spread the toxins which are naturally created by cyanobacteria—it looks like algae, so it shouldn’t raise too many red flags at first, and it would poison all their drinking water—but that might be too complex. Legionnaires’ is an interesting disease which they can contract from simply breathing water if you manage to disperse it correctly. The bacteria will thrive in a warm environment like the Indian Ocean, but it’s not communicable from person-to-person.”

  “You are exquisite, Sionna. Your words are a symphonic orchestra to my ears. Emperor Zalcan’s city under the Maldives is called Damahaar. I want to head out there at once and begin making everyone very sick. Can you get me stocked up on a cocktail of delicious diseases before my trip?” Vachlan saw that she was hesitating, so he lowered his chin and used his grey eyes to plead with a puppy-dog expression. “Please, Sio. I just want to wipe out over half of the Clan of Zalcan. It would make it a lot more difficult for them to attack us, and a lot easier for us to attack them. Either way, it makes Visola’s job easier.”

  “Dammit,” Sionna muttered, lifting a hand to waggle a finger at him. “You had better keep this contained, Vachlan. I don’t want these diseases traveling all over the globe due to carelessness.”

  “Could Legionnaires’ be a major threat to Adlivun?” he asked.

  “No,” Sionna said. “The disease doesn’t survive well in cold water. Like mosquitoes in the winter—you aren’t going to get malaria if the carrier prefers tropical hotspots.”

  “Excellent,” Vachlan said, his face breaking into a giant grin. “What I don’t know is why someone didn’t think of doing this sooner!”

  “I guess we needed Marshal Landou to piss us off enough first,” Sionna responded, vehemently pushing a stray strand of auburn hair behind her ear. “Dammit! I am just like my sister. We can never help being attracted to murderers! Why does this always happen?”

  “It’s not the murderers that present the problem, Sionna. It’s who they choose to murder.”

  Aazuria could not remember the last time she had consumed an alcoholic beverage. Parting with Varia had been so difficult that she could not make the swim all the way back to Mother Melusina’s home. She had chosen to stop and rest in one of Lower Adlivun’s tawdry bars. Once, she would have felt uncomfortable in an establishment like this. She would have felt superior to the broken stone chairs and torn cushions. Now, it was an outward manifestation of the way she felt.

  Long ago, Visola had taught her to see the beauty in dark places. Her friend had shown her that there was truth in the grimy, sexual nature of every city’s underworld. She had learned to appreciate the people along with the drama and danger surrounding them. She had learned to move among them, understanding their motivations while maintaining an inner wall and observing them from a distance. She had never allowed herself to get too close until Trevain Murphy—and now she understood what it was like to be broken a little too well.

  As she pulled her beverage into her mouth through a straw, she appreciated the sharp taste of it against her tongue. She was not sure that the alcohol would really affect her, somewhat forgetting the sensation of extremely heavy drinking that she had only experienced a handful of times.
Mostly in private with Trevain. She sipped again, wondering why the more she polluted her bloodstream with alcohol, the more she involuntarily thought of Trevain. She hoped that he and Varia would get along well. She knew he would take care of her, whether or not he knew her identity.

  With a sad smile, Aazuria remembered how kindly Trevain had invited her into his home at their very first meeting, along with her two younger sisters. He had been fatherly and caring to Corallyn, and she wished she could see the way he was with Varia. She wished she could be with them right now. Instead, she had given a tearful Varia up to Sionna and Vachlan. Closing her eyes, Aazuria prayed that Varia would not hate her.

  Feeling a heavy hand on her shoulder, Aazuria turned and grabbed the man’s wrist. She frowned when she saw a stranger whom she did not recognize. He smiled and held up his other hand in the universal gesture of peace and goodwill. She released his wrist, allowing him to talk with his hands in the dim lighting of the submerged bar.

  “I noticed you sitting over here all by yourself. What’s a pretty lady like you doing in a—”

  She sighed and turned away, already bored of the conversation. She returned to sipping her drink when she felt him tap her shoulder again, and move closer to her side. His hands were flying in friendly, deferential speech as he apologized and tried to coax her into doing whatever it was he wanted. She glanced at his hands out of the corner of her eye and saw that he was inviting her to sit with his friends.

  “—just a bunch of my buddies. Have you heard the rumors of the dead queen? Come join the conversation! My name is Marsden, by the way.”

  Having nothing better to do, Aazuria nodded and followed after the man. She found herself sitting around a table with several giant Adluvian warriors and their women, who were laughing at the appropriate times but otherwise remaining quiet. She realized that she probably looked similar to the other women in her silence, but not in her ability to draw amusement from the conversation.