Lost Princess

by Dani-Lyn Alexander

  The wolf’s whimper offered the perfect excuse to keep from examining that reaction too closely. “What’s the matter, boy?”

  He lowered himself to his belly and crept forward through the brush.

  Ryleigh crouched low and followed. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “What’s wrong, boy?” Foolish to risk giving away their position to speak to an animal that couldn’t possibly respond. The mistake just hammered her point harder. She had no place here.

  A black boot lay in the snow.

  The wolf slinked closer, with Ryleigh at his side. He whimpered again and nudged a leg with his nose.

  “Oh my…Dakota?” Ryleigh launched herself toward the young warrior. She brushed a light dusting of snow from his clothes and face.

  His lips had turned a sickly shade of blue, his pale skin not much darker than the snow surrounding him.

  “Oh, no. Dakota, can you hear me?” She grabbed his shoulder and shook him.

  Nothing.

  Her hand trembled violently as she held it beneath his nose.

  Nothing.

  She placed her fingers against his neck, exactly as she’d been taught in health class what felt like a hundred years ago.

  Still nothing. “Nooo!”

  * * * *

  Cold seeped into Jackson’s bones. A violent tremor touched his mind. Voices reached deep within him, penetrating the merciful blackness. Pain tugged at his heart. He seized hold of the tiniest thread of awareness and dragged himself toward consciousness. When his eyes fluttered open, his vision blurred.

  “Glad to see you finally joined us.”

  Reality shattered any lingering sense of peace. He lifted his head, struggled to focus, tried to rub his eyes. The shackles around his wrists stopped him. His shoulders screamed in protest, and he straightened his legs, stood and eased the pressure hanging from his arms for however long had brought. The cold stone floor leached any lingering warmth through his bare feet. Fully alert now, Jackson studied his surroundings, searching for a way to escape even as he confronted his bro—

  Chayce.

  He would no longer think of the other man as his brother. His brother was dead to him, had died the instant he’d betrayed their father. “What do you want, Chayce?” The strength he’d reached for had abandoned him, leaving his voice raspy and harsh. Weak.

  Since he was bound to the wall with shackles and chains surrounding his wrists, ankles, and waist, he could only assume Chayce wanted something from him. Otherwise, Jackson would never have surfaced from the peaceful state of oblivion he’d discovered.

  Chayce surveyed the shackles carefully, keeping well out of reach.

  Jackson pinned him with a glare, pure hatred heating every cell of his body. He buried the urge to strain against the manacles. No sense wasting his energy. If they weren’t firmly secured, Chayce wouldn’t be standing so close.

  “I need something, Jackson. Something only you can give.” He tilted his head and folded his arms across his chest.

  Jackson laughed, a humorless sound, borne from his inability to believe this traitor thought Jackson would give him anything.

  The hint of a smile played at Chayce’s mouth. “I was hoping you wouldn’t give in too easily.”

  “Well then, you’ll be quite pleased to know you’ll get nothing from me. Ever.” Jackson spit at Chayce’s feet. “What kind of a man betrays his own father?”

  “Funny you should ask that. Someone else just recently asked me the same thing. Of course, Ryleigh was in my arms when she asked it, not shackled to a wall in the dungeon.”

  Liar. Jackson clenched his teeth, keeping his protests firmly locked behind them, burying the urgent need to fight against the shackles. No way would he engage in this battle with Chayce. His own brother might betray him, but Ryleigh never would.

  Doubt tried to creep in. He shoved it aside. He’d never believe that. In that instant, even knowing the torture he would endure at Chayce’s hand, his heart filled with joy. It had been Ryleigh all along. He should have trusted her to head the Advisory Council. Instead, he’d let his own insecurities cloud his vision.

  Chayce’s laughter brought him back to reality. “Ahh…Jackson. You always did have to do things the hard way.” He lifted a sword from a long table at Jackson’s side, a table filled with various instruments of torture.

  Jackson stared straight ahead and braced himself for the blow.

  “Familiar?” Chayce held Ryleigh’s sword pointed directly at Jackson’s chest.

  Pain pierced his heart. “Where did you get that?”

  “From Ryleigh, of course.” Chayce pressed the tip of the sword to the mark Kai’s sword had left on Jackson’s chest. A wound that had only partially healed.

  This time, Jackson had no armor to protect him. He wore nothing but his jeans. Even his boots and socks had been removed.

  Chayce leaned close to his ear. “Don’t tell me you don’t wonder, Jackson. How could I have her sword? Did she betray you? Or is she dead?”

  Every nerve ending Jackson’s his body screamed in protest. Pain burned in his gut, exploded in his chest. She couldn’t be gone. The ache in his heart consumed him. The knowledge that Ryleigh would never betray him would surely kill him, since it could only mean… He lunged at Chayce, the shackles biting into him, holding him back. A blaze of hot rage—

  Chayce shoved the sword into the hole and through Jackson’s chest, the tip clanging against the stone wall behind him. “Now my dear brother, pay very close attention. Because if Ryleigh is still alive, this is your one and only chance to save her. Do you understand me?”

  Could she be alive? Was it possible she was a prisoner in Chayce’s dungeon as well? Jackson stilled as hope flared.

  “You were with our father just after he died. In that moment, he would have passed knowledge on to you.”

  Could that be true? How could Jackson not know that? A haze of confusion warred with the pain.

  “No king can assume the throne without that knowledge. It must be passed from the dying king to his chosen successor at or just after the moment of death.” Chayce grinned. “You will now pass that knowledge on to me.”

  Jackson tried to think. It was too hard. Fear for Ryleigh outweighed everything else. But if he couldn’t escape Chayce’s torture chamber, she was as good as dead anyway. Or worse. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He cursed the strained croak that emerged, searching for strength.

  Chayce wrenched the sword upward, barely missing Jackson’s heart. If the blade penetrated his heart, it was over. The mortal wound would claim him instantly.

  “Think, you fool.” Madness contorted his features, twisted his face into a mask of hatred. “At the time of his death, he had to have passed on all of the knowledge needed for you to rule Cymmera.”

  Jackson struggled to make sense of what Chayce was saying. Just after his father’s death, Kiara had come for him. Jackson had gone to his father, sat by his side, and held his hand. Memories had played through his mind. Images of his father throughout the years. He’d pressed his father’s hand to his lips. He couldn’t think through the pain of the memories. His father’s lifeless body. The fear that had gripped Jackson so completely. The uncertainty.

  All caused by Chayce.

  Fury erupted in a primal roar of pure rage. Jackson fisted his hand and swung with every ounce of his strength. The shackle held, but the chain gave a little, ripped partway free of the stone.

  Chayce jumped back, yanked the sword free.

  Jackson swung repeatedly. Tiny pieces of shattered stone rained down onto the floor as the wall began to release its hold on the chains. A shock stiffened Jackson’s body. He froze, then his arms and legs turned to rubber and he collapsed, caught only by the shackles holding him up.

  Chayce shoved his hair back. “If you’re done with your tantrum, brother, let’s continue our discussion.” He tossed the device, similar to a cattle prod, onto the table amid the o
ther tools.

  The smell of his own flesh burning sent a wave of nausea crashing through Jackson.

  Chayce stood with his feet apart and his hands clasped behind his back, but stayed far enough away that Jackson had no hope of reaching him, even if he could escape one of his bonds. “You have ten seconds to figure out what I’m talking about, and then I’ll kill you and have Ryleigh brought in to take your place. If you refuse to pass the legacy on to me, I’ll simply take Ryleigh as my queen. She has every right to ascend the throne.”

  So she was alive. The relief was short lived. That changed things. If Chayce could ascend the throne another way, he would simply kill Jackson and be done with it. The fact he hadn’t could only mean Ryleigh had refused to co-operate. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He blanked his mind, sought the state of emotional emptiness he’d known so well before…well, before Ryleigh had intruded on his life and awakened emotions he didn’t understand and had no hope of controlling.

  Jackson closed his eyes and searched for the memory from just after his father died. He’d been sitting beside his father, holding his hand. Jackson’s hands had begun to warm. A tingling had begun in his fingers, traveled up his arm to explode in a burst of heat in his chest. Knowledge broke free from some part of his sub-conscious he’d kept effectively blocked. Perhaps it had been there all along, and he’d simply been too stubborn to listen. He rummaged through and discarded bit after bit of information. Information stored in the memories of the ancients, the past kings of his ancestors, even those who ruled before Cymmera had come into existence.

  “You remember.” A euphoric grin split Chayce’s face.

  Jackson said nothing. He simply held Chayce’s gaze. With the information in Jackson’s head, Chayce could invade Cymmera, take over the people, and assume control. He could rule effectively, as Jackson could have if he’d only taken a moment to search within himself, instead of letting the weight of responsibility scare him, instead of allowing fear to defeat him. Because he would certainly die now. There was no way he could pass this knowledge on to Chayce. No matter what. Not even to save Ryleigh.

  She was the love of his life, his one true mate, the woman he should protect above all else. The woman he would have pledged his heart to for eternity. The woman he would lay down his own life for in a heartbeat. But he couldn’t betray his people to save her. Emptiness began in his heart. It fought back the fear, the regret, the anger, the pain. Healing energy flowed to his chest, weaving through his injuries. He would heal himself. It would take time he might not have, but he had no choice. He wouldn’t betray his kingdom, couldn’t sacrifice the people who trusted him. Including Ryleigh. He’d have to find a way to save her. Any other outcome was unacceptable.

  “Here’s how it’s going to work.” Chayce sorted through the weapons spread sporadically across the table. “I’m going to kill you, quickly if you co-operate, and you are going to pass the knowledge to me as you die.” He smiled. “Got it.”

  Jackson remained silent. He focused every ounce of his being on healing, pictured the healing light fusing the broken pieces of his body back together. The hole in his chest filled with warmth. Heated. Burned. The searing pain helped him concentrate.

  The door creaked slowly open.

  Chayce sputtered, his face turning nearly purple.

  A guard entered.

  “What are you doing here?” Chayce spoke with a deadly calm. “I told you I was not to be disturbed.”

  The guard must not have noticed the rage in his eyes, because the fool continued. “Sir, it’s of the utmost importance that I speak with you.”

  “Is it?” Chayce lifted a flail from the table.

  The guard sank back but didn’t retreat. He swallowed a couple of times before working up the courage to go on. “Yes, sir. It’s extremely urgent.” He spared Jackson a look from the corner of his eye.

  “Don’t worry about talking in front of my brother. He won’t be around long enough to repeat anything.” Chayce laughed and swung the weapon, the spike covered ball missing the guard’s head by only an inch. He gripped the wooden handle tightly, ran his hand along the chain in a loving caress, and waited.

  Jackson almost felt bad for the guard, even thought about trying to save him, but there was no opening for him, no way for him to intervene. Then the man spared him a look filled with hatred, and Jackson left him to his fate.

  “Your Majesty.” The guard bowed, obviously stalling.

  “Spit it out already. I don’t have the time or the patience for your games.”

  “Very well, sir.” He cleared his throat. “The prisoner is gone, sir.”

  Chayce’s eyes widened. His mouth fell open.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I came as soon as I noticed she was missing.”

  Wait. She?

  “We’ve searched everywhere, Your Majesty. She’s nowhere to be found.”

  Ryleigh?

  Chayce’s right eye twitched. One hand fisted tightly around the wooden handle of the flail. The other shot out and gripped the guard by the throat. He spoke through gritted teeth. “I don’t care how you do it. You put a patrol together, take a group of savages, and you find that girl. Do you understand me?”

  The guard nodded frantically, his bobble head bouncing around like it wasn’t even attached.

  If the rage coloring Chayce’s face was any indication, it wouldn’t be attached for long.

  Chayce released his hold.

  The guard fled.

  “Well, well, well, brother dear. Looks like you’re going to have to relinquish the throne to me after all.” He stepped closer to Jackson.

  Ryleigh had escaped. She must have. It was the only thing that made sense. Unless Chayce had taken Mia. He had to know. “What’s the matter, Chayce? Lose something?”

  Chayce lifted the flail.

  Laughter bubbled up and out before Jackson could restrain it.

  “You think you’re funny?” Spittle sprayed from Chayce’s mouth.

  Jackson braced himself, stiffened his body, called on the light that would help him heal under even the worst of circumstances.

  Chayce took two steps forward and lunged, gaining momentum as he swung the spiked weapon.

  Pain slammed into Jackson’s ribs.

  Rage contorted Chayce’s face as he swung the weapon again and again.

  When the merciful blackness finally claimed him, Jackson surrendered.

  Chapter 8

  Ryleigh pressed her hand against Dakota’s chest, praying fervently for any sign of life, even the slightest flutter of a heartbeat. She tilted her head and lowered her ear to his open mouth.

  Nothing.

  Scalding pain ignited in her gut, heating her nearly to boiling. Power surged through her with an intensity she had no hope of controlling. Electricity arced from the hand she held against Dakota’s chest. She jumped, startled, but then pressed her hand back against his heart. It sizzled, then erupted in a ball of light, consuming his chest and her hand in a purple glow.

  A tidal wave of pure energy poured from her core, flowing into Dakota. Draining her. A circle of snow melted around them as the glow began to fade. The power she’d unleashed trickled and died, and she slumped across Dakota’s chest.

  The giant wolf licked her cheek.

  She opened her eyes, just for a moment. “Thank you, boy.” Her eyes fell shut.

  The wolf curled protectively around the two of them, lending warmth, head held high as if standing sentinel.

  Ryleigh snuggled into his fur, covering Dakota as best she could.

  “Ja…”

  Her eyes shot open.

  “Ja…”

  “Dakota?” She frantically patted him down, searching for any sign of life.

  “Jack…son.” His breathing was harsh, but at least he was breathing. His pulsed fluttered erratically, but at least his heart had started to beat.

  “Dakota. What happened? Can you tell me?�
��

  He moaned, mumbled something she couldn’t make out, and rolled over.

  “All right. Don’t worry. I’ll get you to Jackson. He’ll know what to do. You just have to hold on until we can get you there.” The young warrior obviously needed a stronger healer than her. Hopefully, she could keep him alive until they found one. She longed to lay back down in the warm haven created by the giant wolf but resisted the urge.

  The wolf stared at her, intelligence etched in his every expression.

  “Can you take me home, boy?”

  He studied her another moment, then rose gracefully to his feet. He pushed his nose beneath Dakota.

  Ryleigh stood to help. She half-shoved, half-dragged Dakota onto the wolf’s back. When she had him safely slumped over his back, she started forward.

  The wolf didn’t. He nudged her once, then lowered his head for her to climb onto his back behind Dakota. With Ryleigh and Dakota perched on his back, he stood and moved forward, his smooth, rocking gait similar to Nahara, but different. The wolf was sleeker, more muscular.

  A dull ache settled in her chest. She had no idea if Kalayah had been able to escape.

  “Ugh…How could I have screwed everything up so badly?”

  The wolf continued to walk, his pace steady, unhurried. Did he have any clue how to get them to Cymmera?

  A bolt of lightning shattered the peace, splitting a tree and dropping half of it into the snow to block their path. Ryleigh gripped Dakota tighter. Enough of this. If no one noticed the amount of power she’d used to—heal Dakota, she was probably far enough away from the castle to open a portal. And if she wasn’t…well…she’d cross that bridge when she came to it.

  She closed her eyes and concentrated on gathering energy. Static hissed around her, sizzled through her. She fisted her hands together, pictured the throne room, imagined Jackson seated on the throne, issuing orders, in control. She faltered, the need to be with Jackson too strong. Regaining her focus, she lifted her hands. When she could no longer restrain the power, she ripped her hands apart.