The Destiny Series Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by Christine Grey

  I never saw the Mirin Tor girl again. We were aware of one another, but little more. She existed in her world, and I in mine. Cyrus and I, however, did form a kind of friendship. We were both trapped under Hathel’s rule, and we found a camaraderie in our shared misery.

  Hathel had no idea that we could speak to one another, but even if he had known, he probably wouldn’t have cared, seeing as the concept of friendship was beyond him. Cyrus searched every moment he got for a way to free me from my prison. He genuinely cared about me, and wanted to see me unbound.

  It took years, but Cyrus finally found the spell we needed. It was written in Hathel’s own hand. Hathel was pretty useless when it came to magic, so we couldn’t imagine him writing anything of worth, but there it was.

  Knowing that the spell would disappear after it had been performed, Hathel had made a copy. His replica didn’t carry the power of the original scroll because the parchment of the original was part of its power, and he could have said the words a million times with no effect because of it.

  Cyrus and I poured over the wording of the spell, cross-checking it against similar spells. We concluded that there might be a way to reverse the spell, but we were going to need the exact same blood again. We had Cyrus’s blood, of course. The problem was the Mirin Tor girl. She hadn’t remained pure for long after playing her part in the spell. We were going to have to find another. Preferably someone with the same bloodline. We didn’t even know for sure that it could be done, and, if attempted, what would happen to the people whose blood we used? Would they survive the ordeal? Would I? Casting the spell might free me, but at what cost?

  One thing was certain—the chances of us finding another Mirin Tor, untouched and in Darak, were pretty slim.

  Cyrus had long since decided that he wanted a new start. He wanted to see if there was another way to live other than the one he’d grown used to in Darak. His desire to help me was just the push he needed to make him take action.

  We went to Maj where he’d hoped to find a Maj woman to join with. We needed one for the spell anyway, and he was a man, after all, lonely for a mate and a family. Neither of us expected to find Dyanna, and Cyrus fell in love with her, heart and soul.

  It worried me, because I wasn’t sure if she would be willing to try the spell. I knew Cyrus would never place her in harm’s way, but when she was attacked by the pirates, none of it mattered anymore; she was no longer pure. But when their baby was born and they saw its eyes—

  “What do you mean its eyes? What about its eyes?” Dearra asked.

  Did I not mention that before? Well, it’s like this: that golden ring around your eyes is a side effect of the dragon blood you carry. It has been diluted over the generations, until it’s become hardly more than a flicker of light. In some generations it has been a little stronger than others in one child or another, but it’s never enough to manifest.

  The blood tie you and I share began with Cyrus. I thought for a while that your blood alone would be enough to complete the reversal spell, Dearra. You are a direct descendant of Cyrus and you are also a Mirin Tor maiden, though you Maj like to think of yourselves as a people apart. Then there were your eyes. I hadn’t seen such a strong sign of my presence since Dyanna’s child. So, there was a chance. I suspected that Tolah had other plans when I felt Darius and heard him coming, but Tolah doesn’t tell me what He’s thinking. Even when Darius arrived, and I could feel the pull of the magic, still I wasn’t sure. I had to find out. I had to check. I’m sorry Dearra, but that’s why I cut you when you were chasing the she-wolf. I saw an opportunity, and I took it. I never dreamed you would become so ill. Cyrus recovered much more quickly, and you already carried some of my blood, so I thought it would be safe. My blood is there, and the Breken blood is there, but the Mirin Tor link is weak. It doesn’t seem like it should be that way, as so many generations have passed, but the Mirin Tor is not dominant in you. No, it’s Darius who carries that blood.

  “Me?” Darius asked. “I am no Mirin Tor.”

  Ah, but you are, my friend, for slave girls can have children as well.

  “Come on, Brin,” Dearra said, shaking her head. “That sounds a little coincidental to me. I just happen to be a descendent of Cyrus, and Darius just happens to be the descendant of the same slave whose blood was used in the spell to trap you? The chances of that are pretty small.”

  Even after all this time, I think I recognize the call of the blood that was used to cage me. It’s not something you forget.

  Do not discount this, Dearra. Nothing ever just happens when Rah and Tolah are involved. I would like to think it’s Tolah who is the author of this tale, but it is more likely Rah as it seems more his style. Also, it did take a thousand years to come full circle, and a lot can happen in a thousand years. All you need to do is to take a look at his eyes; the flecks of gold are pretty unusual for a Breken, don’t you think? That’s my blood shining through. It must be.

  “So if Darius is the Mirin Tor in all of this, then the whole thing in his room when you burned him—” Dearra felt Darius tense again, and she swatted him on the shoulder. “Stop it! It’s over! As I was saying, that whole thing in his room, that had nothing to do with protecting my honor. It was Darius who needed to remain pure. So that would mean he’s—”

  A virgin? Oh, yes, most definitely! Pure as the driven snow. Completely untouched. Never been with a woman. He’s totally—

  “We’ve got it, Brin! Thank you!” Darius shouted. The horse they rode bolted forward a few strides, startled by his yell, before settling.

  Dearra rode in silence. Brin had given them a lot to think about. They had a chance to free him!

  Maybe.

  That was the thing: it all came down to maybe. Also, Dearra didn’t really like the idea that Darius, not to mention Brin, himself, might be in danger if they tried it. They might be able to free him, but would he survive the effort? How long did dragons live, anyway? Would he be another thousand years older, or would he be the age he had been when he was trapped? While Brin had shared more with her than he ever had before, she thought that all it had really done was create about a hundred more questions.

  He had definitely given her a lot to think about.

  Chapter 52

  “There! I can see the beach!” Hugh called out. “We’re going to be all right, Pip. Aesri said the boats should be waiting for us.”

  “I can’t wait to be home again, Father,” Pip said. “It seemed like forever. In the beginning I was so sure you would come, but then…well…I started to worry.”

  “I will never leave you, Phillip. No matter what, I will always be with you. I love you, never doubt that for a moment.”

  Phillip hugged his father tightly. “I love you too.”

  Hugh pulled his horse to a stop and helped Pip to the ground before dropping to the sand himself. Two boats stood ready to take the Maj back to their ship and see them safely on their way. A few of the Etrafarian helpers had materialized to take the reins of the completely spent horses and lead them to the water and rest they so desperately needed.

  Aesri was quietly giving instructions to one of the men, when Carly shouted, “No! He has to come with me! Khan needs to stay with me!” Carly’s eyes were wide with panic.

  Daniel placed a hand on her shoulder trying to calm her. “Carly, sweet, how would we get him on the ship? The Breken are surely close behind us. We have to go. The animal can’t come with us.”

  “The animal?” Carly raged. An unnatural wind blew sending her hair swirling around her face. “Khan is not ‘the animal’. He’s my friend! He’ll die without me!

  “I’ll find a way; am I a fairy or not?

  “I’ll—I’ll freeze the water. He can walk on it and get to the ship!”

  “Carly, stop. Think it through. Even if you could do it, how would we get him on board? He has to stay here. Aesri will keep him safe, you know she will.”

  “But—”

  “Enough, Carly,” Aesri said, gently
but firmly. You know he cannot go. You have always known, but you have been denying it to yourself.”

  “How can I leave him behind, Aesri?” Carly asked.

  “Do you really think this is the last you will see of me, dearest sister? Would my sisters and I abandon Brin now that we have finally found him? Would we abandon you? We will be coming. And when we do, we will bring Khan with us.”

  “Really? You promise?” Carly asked, feeling a thin slice of hope return.

  “I promise. I think Khan would try to swim after you if we let him. Have faith, Carly. All will be well.”

  “Thank you, Aesri,” Carly said, throwing herself at the tiny woman and wrapping her arms around her gratefully.

  Aesri was shocked for a moment, but then she regained her composure and returned the hug, though with less force than Carly.

  “That is quite enough drama for one day, my sister. You must keep control of those emotions of yours. I want you to keep practicing until we meet again. It is very important for you to gain greater control of your powers. Do you understand?”

  “I understand, Aesri.”

  “Good. Now, everyone in the boats!”

  Aesri watched from shore as the small crafts pulled away and made their way back to the Maj ship. She smiled as she watched Hugh stand in the little boat and wave his exuberant farewells.

  ***

  Hugh saw the Breken as they broke through the thin line of trees near the beach and raced toward Aesri, who didn’t appear to have noticed them yet. He leapt to his feet, causing the small boat to rock alarmingly beneath him. He raised his arm and waved frantically, trying to alert her to the approaching riders, and was relieved to see her swiftly mount Khan just in time.

  Aesri dashed out of the path of the riders, but Khan seemed to resist her attempts to keep him moving, appearing, instead, to try to turn back towards the shore. Hugh was comforted to see that there were only about a dozen riders on the beach left to glare angrily in their direction. The Etrafarians must have done a very thorough job of throwing the Breken city into disarray for so few to be left to gather in their pursuit of them.

  They made their escape with very little room to spare, but they had made it nonetheless. He was surprised to see Jacob among the riders, wearing the crimson and black cloak of House Falco, and the two locked eyes. Hugh vowed he would never forgive Jacob’s treachery to his family.

  Dearra stood beside her father, having seen Jacob on the beach as well. “It’s over, Father. Let’s just go home.”

  Hugh turned away from Jacob’s glare, stepped in front of his daughter, and put his hands lovingly on her shoulders. He smiled reassuringly. “You are right, daughter. It’s over. Let’s get back to the ship and—”

  It felt to Hugh as if someone had shoved him from behind.

  “Father!” Dearra screamed, and the boat broke into chaos, everyone moving at once, which threatened to capsize the little vessel.

  Hugh looked casually down at his chest where Dearra pressed with more force than he could imagine from his little girl. A crossbow bolt protruded from just below his left shoulder. Dearra had one hand on either side of the shaft, already trying to staunch the flow of blood. It was the most remarkable thing for one to see—a piece of wood sticking out from one’s chest.

  He collapsed to his knees in the next instant, feeling several pairs of hands ease him back and support his weight. He heard Daniel yelling from the second boat, urging the oarsmen to increase their pace.

  “Father! Father!” Dearra continued to scream, as Darius tried to pry her hands away to get a better look at Hugh’s wound.

  “Shhhh, daughter. It’s all right,” Hugh said quietly. “It’s just through the shoulder. It will be all right. I’m fine.”

  Hugh was surprised that there was so very little pain. Mostly what he felt was cold. His shoulder felt like ice and the chill spread slowly outward from there. It was such an odd feeling. He felt Phillip’s small hands as they stroked his hair, over and over again.

  Darius was finally able to pull Dearra’s hands away and get a look at the bolt poking from Hugh’s chest. The tip was covered in a sharp metal point with minute black writing etched into the silver. When Dearra reached out to reapply pressure, Darius quickly grabbed her hands, unwilling to let her too near.

  “No, Dearra!” he said. When she looked at him questioningly he continued. “We don’t want to move it too much. The blood is already slowing. Just…just don’t touch it until we get him back on board.” She still looked a little confused, but she made no move to put her hands back. Darius looked Hugh in the eye and could see that the man understood immediately.

  The cold continued to spread. Hugh could no longer feel anything down his left side, and a strange bitter taste lined his mouth.

  “Hugh, we’ve got to get you on board, then…we can take a better look,” Darius said gravely.

  “I understand, Darius. It’s best not to touch it for now. We can get it out when we get to the ship.” What Hugh was trying to say was that he knew the arrow had been poisoned. The way the small boat bobbed and pitched in the water made it far too easy for Dearra, or anyone else, to cut themselves on the cruel tip.

  Darius nodded. He was all too familiar with Breken poisons. He didn’t know which one this was precisely, but based on Hugh’s quiet calm, he could guess. Whoever fired the fatal missile had wanted his target dead, but not to suffer overly much.

  He looked back toward the beach, now far out of range of any further attacks. Jacob was still there. In his hands he held a crossbow, its shape and size unmistakable, even at this distance. No one else paid any attention to what was happening on shore, they were all so focused on Hugh. Darius remembered how father and daughter had stood side by side in the boat, and how an instant before the shot had been fired, Hugh had turned and stood in front of Dearra. No one saw the flash of bitter hatred that marred Darius’s features, or the reflexive way his hand reached for the sword that wasn’t there. If it was the last thing he did, Darius would hunt Jacob down and destroy him.

  Dearra was too worried about her father to notice the look on Darius’s face, or the silence from Brin. Had she been thinking clearly, that silence would have frightened her more than anything.

  When they lowered Hugh to the deck, Darius was at least grateful that the man appeared to be in no pain. Dearra sat on one side of her father, and Phillip on the other. Hugh held a hand of each child while Dearra yelled instructions to the crew. When she reached her free hand toward the bolt, Darius once again stopped her.

  “What are you doing, Darius?” she said. “We have to get it out.”

  “Leave it,” Hugh sighed, his voice weak.

  “What are you talking about? Let me go!” Dearra shrugged away from Darius, but his grip on her arm did not loosen.

  “Dearra.” Darius’s voice was thick with emotion. He dropped to his knees beside her. “Dearra, it’s poisoned. If you try to remove it—”

  “Poisoned?” Dearra felt as though all of the blood had drained from her face.

  Phillip pressed his face against his father’s cheek, and Hugh stroked the boy’s hair tenderly.

  “Dearra, there’s nothing we can do. The poison is already racing towards his heart. If we try to take it out, all we will do is cause him pain.”

  “No, no, no, no, no! Oh, Cyrus, no!

  “Darius, do something!

  “Carly, get my bag!

  “Daniel! Bring me water!

  “If we can get it out there may still be time! Maybe we can draw out the poison! Maybe we could…maybe we could…”

  “Hush now, dearest child. Your mother has waited for me long enough. I would have liked to see you both grown with families of your own, but that wasn’t meant to be. You have both made me so proud, so very, very proud.”

  “Father, please! Don’t go! Don’t leave me! I need you father. Please don’t leave me alone. Please, please, please.”

  “Darius,” Hugh whispered. “Give me your hand
.” Hugh took hold, and then, with the last of his strength, he placed Dearra’s hand into Darius’s. “Never alone, Dearra. I will always be with you.”

  Chapter 53

  Dearra, it’s time.

  Dearra was dressed all in white, as all of Maj would be, to honor Lord Hugh. The month and a half at sea bringing Hugh’s body back from Parsaia had been the longest time in Dearra’s young life, and now there was the funeral to get through.

  She leaned against the stone wall and stared out of her window at the waves that crashed below her. The sun was shining. The whole island was rich with fall colors. The sea foamed and frothed and left little rainbows dancing in the shallows each time a wave retreated. The sky was cloudless, the kind of blue that drew your gaze and refused to let go.

  Wasn’t it bad enough that she’d had her father torn from her just as her brother was returned?

  Wasn’t it enough that Jacob lived?

  Wasn’t it enough that the Breken, even now, were making plans for revenge and war?

  Evidently it was not, for the gods had decided that, on top of all of that, Hugh’s burying day had to be filled with light and beauty. Dearra’s heart felt as if it were torn and bleeding. She was now the Lord of Maj, with no idea of how to proceed, or where to turn next.

  Why did the day have to be so damn beautiful? She wanted the world to grieve with her. She longed for a reflection of her feelings, the ones she was forced to keep buried, deep within her, to protect her brother, her friends, and her people from succumbing to the same terrible despair.

  Was it really too much to ask the world bend itself to at least reflect her pain?

  Dearra, Brin gently prodded once again. It’s time. They are waiting for you, dearest. Everyone will help you, now. You are not alone. Everything will be all right.

  Dearra felt as if she were drowning. Each breath she drew was painful. At times it seemed as though it were too much effort to bother, but duty demanded she try. She was honor-bound to keep trying, keep going, keep fighting, and keep…living.