The Destiny Series Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by Christine Grey

  Dearra rested her head against Darius’s chest and splayed her fingers over the spot where his heart beat. His large, calloused hand covered hers, and squeezed gently.

  “I’m made of pretty tough stuff, Dearra,” Darius said. “You’ve seen me beaten, drowned, and almost torn to pieces by horses. I think I can handle the blood of one arrogant dragon.”

  Dearra didn’t say anything. She didn’t feel as confident as Darius sounded, but then again, her options were limited.

  “Not tomorrow, though,” Darius said, stepping back from Dearra. “Tomorrow we will talk to Jacob. I want to see what information we can get out of him, and I would rather be at my full strength when I speak to him.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Jacob? He’s in the king’s dungeon. I have no problem going to His Majesty’s cells to pay Jacob a visit. For one thing, I am curious to find out how a Maj comes to be adorned with a Breken tattoo.”

  “What?” Dearra asked.

  “You can’t mean you didn’t see it! It covers the whole side of his face! It’s over-the-top, even for a Breken.”

  “I guess, with everything that happened, I didn’t pay any attention. After spending time in Parsaia, maybe I got used to seeing the tattoos, and Jacob doesn’t feel like much of a Maj to me. Did you get anything from him, Brin?”

  No, nothing. That’s not entirely unusual, but with him so close, I had hoped to get something. Once the Breken landed on the island, I expected to hear them all, but mostly what I got was a feeling of cold. Ice to be specific.

  “It’s been so warm, Brin. Why would you be feeling ice? Do you mean like fairy ice?”

  No. With the fairies I hear and feel them, not their magic. This was different. It was…cold, like hate made tangible. It was probably just the result of so many Breken all bent on our utter destruction. I haven’t felt it again since.

  “You haven’t heard any Breken on the mainland yet, have you?”

  Do you think I would keep something like that a secret? Believe me, when they come, you’ll be one of the first to know.

  That’s enough for one night. You both need to get some sleep.

  Darius gave Dearra a light kiss, and then went to the chest to retrieve the blankets stored there. He arranged the bedding on the side of Dearra’s bed, nearest to the door. He figured if he were going to sleep there, he could, at least, place himself between her and any possible threat. The room darkened to pitch when Dearra blew out the candle, and Darius put his arm behind his head and stared into the blackness.

  “Darius?” Dearra whispered from the bed above him.

  “Yes?”

  “Where’s Reo?”

  “Pardon?”

  “I just realized I haven’t seen him. Where is he?”

  “I left him with Phillip and Zusia. He has been upset, well, upset in a wolfy sort of way. He misses Royce. He seems better when he is with the other children, and I like the thought of him watching over them.”

  “I’m glad,” Dearra said, after a moment’s pause. “He should be happy, then.”

  “He is. I can sense him. Right now he’s nestled in bed and resting comfortably on top of a down mattress and under Zusia’s comforting arm. She’s stroking his ears.”

  “You almost sound disapproving,” Dearra said, commenting on the tone Darius had used.

  “Not disapproving. Jealous. The wolf gets to sleep in a comfortable bed while someone showers him with affection. Meanwhile, I am relegated to the floor. Now, if you wanted to invite me to your bed and offer to stroke my ears, that would be okay with me.” Darius’s voice held a hint of laughter. He thought it was obvious he was joking, but when she didn’t immediately respond, he worried she might have gotten the wrong idea.

  “Darius?” Dearra whispered in the dark.

  “Yes, Dearra?” His mouth felt as dry as ten Breken deserts. He waited expectantly for her next words, but then two pillows plopped onto his face, instead.

  Darius laughed heartily, and stuffed the pillows under his head. “Good night, Dearra,” he said.

  “Good night, Darius.”

  Chapter 22

  Darius was disappointed to discover that the dungeon in the castle was much nicer than the one in which he had spent time in Darak. He was sorry there weren’t at least a few rats to keep Jacob company. On second thought, they would probably recognize him as one of their own and find a way to help him.

  Jacob sat on a thin mattress and picked at a tray of food that had been left for him. It was plain food, but wholesome and fresh, and someone had been kind enough to pour a hearty gravy over the bread.

  “I wondered when you’d get around to stopping by. I must admit, I suspected you’d leave me waiting much longer.” Jacob tore off a mouthful of bread dripping with gravy and put it into his mouth without looking up from his food. “Where’s Dearra? I would have thought the great Lady of Maj would want to be present for this little interview.”

  “I told her we would come see you after lunch. I believed it would be better if we had some time without her.”

  “So, just the two of us? How cozy. You realize I’m a married man.”

  Darius quirked a grudging smile. The man had guts. If he was very, very fortunate, Darius might even let him keep some of them. “We’re not completely alone,” Darius said nodding in the direction of Shanks who leaned against the wall, picking casually at his nails with his knife.

  Jacob leaned forward to get a better look down the hall, saw the king’s guard, and leaned back on his bunk. “So, you’re a bit of a prisoner here yourself.”

  “Not a prisoner, Jacob. I’m more like a…special guest. They take great care to make sure I have someone nearby should I need anything, or lose my way in the castle.”

  Shanks laughed quietly, and continued to clean his nails.

  Jacob’s stomach rumbled loudly, and he pushed the tray away. “You know, Darius, I should really be thanking you. To think I was almost saddled with Dearra for a lifetime…well, her lifetime, anyway. It’s unfortunate that my aim was so poor, or I might have spared us both some grief. Not that I’m overly fond of you, mind. It’s just that I feel a certain kinship with you now.”

  “I wondered how you came by your facial tattoo,” Darius said nonchalantly, leaning against the bars of Jacob’s cell.

  “It’s a magnificent story. I wouldn’t believe it myself, had I not been there. After you so hastily departed my fair city, there was quite an uproar. Lord Falco was dead, everything was in disarray, and the nobles of the other houses were not in the best of moods. There was no heir to Falco’s house, and everyone was fighting over material goods, slaves, and the like. I was to be killed. I can’t say I was surprised. I was dragged to the same platform you and Dearra had occupied but days earlier. Their plan was to burn me alive, a simple but effective solution. Dearra would have enjoyed the irony.

  “One of the Breken priests lit a brazier and strode forward, knife in hand, to collect some of my blood for their twisted ritual. Everything Breken is about the blood, have you noticed? Anyway, the priest cut my hand and collected some of my blood in a bowl.” At this statement, Jacob held up his hand for Darius to see the long-healed line that ran the width of his palm. Small droplets of sweat had formed on his forehead and upper lip, and after showing Darius the wound, he wiped the back of his hand across his brow before continuing.

  “The priest took the bowl, sprinkled some type of powder over the surface, and then lit the mixture on fire with a stick from the brazier. It was quite impressive. There was a flash of light followed by thick green smoke that billowed forth in copious plumes. It didn’t mean a damn thing to me, but it surely meant something to them, and you as well, I see.”

  Darius shrugged, and tried to school his features into a mask of indifference, but he knew Jacob had already seen his look of shock.

  “There was a great deal of commotion and whispering, and then I was untied and hurried back to House Tempestas. Once there, Lord Tigre and Lord Tempest
as were joined by Lord Vipera. I had never seen the pathetic man before. His skin was sallow, he’s withered and ancient-looking, and he’s incredibly short for a Breken. I’m stunned no one’s killed him off yet.”

  “Don’t be,” Darius said. “He still has a great deal of power. He may look weak, but that’s only the result of working with poisons for all those years. I’ve learned quite a bit from that house. I was apprenticed with them briefly, until it was decided I’d make a better instructor.”

  “Fascinating,” Jacob said, and his stomach let out another loud rumble.

  “You feeling all right?” Darius asked.

  “Me? I’m just fine. Your concern is touching.

  “Back to my story,” Jacob said. He stood to pace the confines of his cell. “Once all the lords had been gathered, they called on the priest of House Tempestas and demanded he bring the journals of Hathel. I had no idea what they wanted with those musty, old books, but anything that kept me breathing a while longer was a good thing, so I stood silent and waited. They pawed at the journals, looking for something. I thought the priest was going to have some sort of fit, wincing every time they handled the pages, because they weren’t very careful about it at all. Finally, Tempestas found what he was looking for. They crowded around and read and reread the same sentences before turning to look at me.”

  “So, you’re a descendant of Hathel? Amazing. I always wondered if there wasn’t a little Breken in your bloodline.”

  “It is amazing, isn’t it?” Jacob paused in his pacing to take several slow, deep breaths.

  “Jacob? You sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes! Fine!”

  “Just checking,” Darius said, not showing any real concern.

  “The journals confirmed what the blood and fire had already suggested. I was a Breken noble. Hathel had several sons, and when the Sword of Hathel—”

  “Sword of Cyrus,” Darius corrected.

  “Whatever. When the sword was taken, Hathel sent those sons to find it and bring it back. Evidently, at least one son had enough time on his hands to do a little more than search Mirin Tor, but then, he was a man, and men have needs. Am I right?”

  Darius shrugged.

  “I got my Breken tattoo that very day, and now we’re all just one big, happy family.”

  “How did Tempestas manage to unite the cities? Falco was the one who had the power. With him gone, I would have thought there was at least a chance the invasion plans would be abandoned.”

  “Oh, Darius. You can’t think I would answer all of your questions. I told you about my heritage because it amused me to do so, but I’m not going to give you more than that.” Jacob affected a smug grin.

  “I think there’s a good chance that you will talk, Jacob.”

  Jacob winced, and his hand shot to his stomach before he doubled over in obvious pain.

  “Are you really, really sure you’re feeling well, Jacob?”

  “Why do you keep asking that?” Jacob said as the cramp eased, and he was able to stand upright again.

  “Because I poisoned your food,” Darius responded coolly.

  Jacob blanched and his mouth hung open like a fish caught on land. “You poisoned me?”

  “Absolutely. The gravy was good, though, right?”

  Jacob dropped to his knees and clenched his stomach again. “You realize that now you’ll never get the information you’re after. It’s a little counterproductive to kill me before you get what you need.”

  “It would be,” Darius said, “but I don’t intend to kill you…yet.” Darius pulled a small flask from an inside vest pocket. “I just so happen to have something that will save your life, if you’re interested.”

  Jacob let go of his gut long enough to reach a hand out.

  “Even you aren’t that stupid, Jacob. Information first.”

  “We don’t have time for that!” Jacob screeched before doubling over again.

  “Sure we do…I think. It’s always tricky to get the timing down exactly right. Mathematics were never my strong suit. Probably another reason my apprenticeship didn’t last that long.”

  “You act so high and mighty. You can pretend to be Maj all you want, but you’re just as twisted as the rest of the Breken,” Jacob said, grimacing in pain.

  “Think what you want, but you’re wasting time, Jacob.”

  “Fine! It was just as you said. No one trusted anyone else. The invasion plans were on hold, and most of the city were jostling for position. There was some talk of having me take over as Lord Falco. With my lineage verified, I was within my rights to lay claim as the heir of Falco, but it wasn’t likely to be a smooth transition. The guards had no reason to follow me, and Lord Tigre wasn’t very happy about it either.”

  “No, I imagine not. As lord of the fourth house, my father saw a chance to move up into the third position and become one of the ruling houses of the city. Your assumption of the lordship would definitely put a damper on that.”

  “Lord Tempestas suggested a compromise. If Lord Tigre would not oppose his taking over the majority of the guards, slaves, and goods of House Falco, then he would take me into his house as his adopted heir, and Lord Tigre could slide into the third position he coveted. Lord Tigre happily agreed. Lord Vipera seemed indifferent to the whole affair.”

  “But what about the war on Mirin Tor? With Falco dead, the other cities should have been more resistant to the idea.”

  Jacob dropped to his knees. The sweat was pouring off of him, soaking his hair and shirt. “Give me the antidote!”

  “Not quite yet. How did the Lords of Darak convince the other cities?”

  “The White Witch!”

  “Who?” Darius asked. He knew of no witch, and couldn’t imagine what Jacob was talking about.

  “There was a woman. She was all in white. She didn’t give a name, but she was powerful. One of her hands is clawed and scaled, and she usually keeps it covered. Whenever she is near, the air turns icy cold. She has a tiny creature who does whatever she says. It’s always sneaking around, watching, and hissing. She approached Lord Tempestas, and then the lords of the other cities came, and they all sealed themselves away with her, and when they came out, the plans for war went forward. That’s all I know! Give it to me! Give me the antidote!”

  Darius tossed the flask between the bars, and Jacob fell on it immediately, ripped the stopper out with his teeth, and drank the contents in hurried gulps.

  A white witch. Darius sifted through his memories, but there was nothing he could remember about a witch, white or otherwise. Brin? Darius waited, hoping for a response. Nothing. Dearra must be outside the castle. No matter. He would ask the dragon later.

  A loud retching noise came from the cell, followed by a wet, splattering one as the contents of Jacob’s stomach made a reappearance on the stone floor of the cell. Again and again, he heaved up the contents of his stomach until there was nothing left, and still he continued.

  “You lied! Jacob panted between waves of nausea. You gave me more poison.”

  “Not at all. The flask I provided was a purgative. All you really needed was to vomit, and what I gave you assists with that. Of course, you could have brought up the poison on your own, but this will ensure we really give you a thorough cleaning out, especially once it does its work on the other end. Speaking of which, it really is time for me to be going. This is really not pleasant to witness, and it’s almost time for lunch.”

  “You bastard,” Jacob half whimpered. His stomach had begun to rumble even more loudly than before, and his limbs had begun to quiver.

  Darius smiled a cold, cruel smile, and squatted down so he could look Jacob in the eye. “You live because it is not for me to end your life. Dearra will make that decision, but never doubt that, should she give the order, it would be my great pleasure to end your filthy existence, and if that day comes, what you are experiencing now will seem like afternoon tea and cookies.” Darius stood erect and glared down at Jacob, who had collapsed into a pil
e of his own vomit, and then turned and strode from the dungeon.

  Shanks had not spoken or interfered in any way throughout the proceedings. When he saw the look on Darius’s face as he passed, he decided he was very glad that was one man he didn’t count as an enemy.

  Chapter 23

  The circle isn’t even! You can’t be doing this half-way! Brin definitely sounded upset.

  “We’re doing our best, Brin,” Dearra said, trying to soothe the anxious dragon.

  They hadn’t been able to try the spell the next day as planned, or the day after that either. Jacob had become suddenly ill, and Dearra thought it best to try to keep him alive for the time being. Maybe they could use him in some way. She wouldn’t mind seeing him dead. As a matter of fact, she had given the idea more than a little thought, but then her father’s voice echoed in her mind, reminding her to think of her people first. If there was any chance that Jacob could prove useful…well then, she’d have to put aside her own wishes for the time being, and wait to see what the future would bring.

  She had no idea what ailed the man, and Darius and Brin were no help—all they told her to was to leave him be. She’d tried every remedy she could think of, but they all had no effect. Even the tiniest sip of water would send him to the corner of the cell where he would vomit bile followed by nothing at all, as his body continued to twist and spasm. When, after three days, he finally quit vomiting, they had to move him to a new cell—his stank to high heaven, and no amount of soap and water seemed to clear away the stench.

  “Instead of screaming at us, Brin, you might offer some suggestions,” Darius said, tossing aside the piece of twine they had been using to draw the circle. “It’s not my fault it stretches and makes the circle uneven.”

  If you wouldn’t yank on it so hard, it wouldn’t stretch!

  “Can I help it if I’m strong?” Darius said, feigning innocence.

  Strong? When I get out of this sword, I’ll show you strong, you overgrown, muscle-bound, pain in the—