by Keri Arthur
His expression shut down hard and fast. But he was angry. I might not be able to see it, but I could both smell it and taste it in the air.
“Give me your hands, Princess.”
His voice was cold. As hard as his expression.
I obeyed. I had no other choice.
His fingers wrapped around mine and then he said, in an almost angry tone, “Princess Nyx, I cede my rights and my power to your will and your word. Let no one ever again force their desires on you.”
I could only stare at him.
Twenty-five words.
Twenty-five simple words.
That’s all it took to give me my life back.
Four
Blue fire flickered across the bracelets, something I felt more than saw.
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t.
A myriad of emotions tumbled through me—not just disbelief and hope but, rather weirdly, fear and confusion.
I licked my lips and dropped my gaze to the bracelets. They gleamed in the fading light of day, a bright evil that had blighted my life for too many years.
“Why?” I whispered.
“The people of Westal Ranges may be considered little more than savages by the gentle folk of Divona, but even we do not believe in slavery.” His voice remained harsh. “I do want your help, Princess, but I also want your willingness.”
My gaze shot back to his. He must have seen the question in my eyes, because he immediately added, “With what comes, nothing more. And no matter what does happen—in the near future and beyond—the choice to deal with it or not is now your decision alone. As it should always be.”
“Choice.” My gaze dropped to the bracelets again. “A rare jewel indeed.”
He didn’t reply, but his anger bled into the air, filling her with heat and turbulence even if it barely touched me.
I tentatively ran a trembling finger across the intricate patterns that adorned the left bracelet—patterns that vaguely reminded me of the runes that ran down my knife’s blade, and that I suspected might now be forever burned into the skin around my wrists.
I could find out, if I wanted.
I could release the bracelets and examine the scars that lay underneath. Scars I’d only ever felt.
If I dared.
The truth of the matter was, these things—and the restrictions that came with them—had become so much a part of my identity that I wasn’t entirely sure who or what I’d become if their lock on my life had truly lifted.
I might have dreamed of this moment for a very long time, but now that it was finally here, part of me was very reluctant to take the final step—to the say words that would release the shackles and give me freedom.
I closed my eyes. Felt the turbulent air caress my skin, as if in encouragement.
Felt the pounding of the earth under my feet, an impatient heartbeat that silently begged me to get on with it. To reconnect.
I could do this.
I had to do this.
I took a deep breath and released it slowly. Then, very softly, I said, “Bracelets, unlock.”
Once again, blue fire ran across their surface. A soft click followed and then, with little fanfare, my silver shackles released their grip on my wrists and fell to the table.
Free.
Something I’d long wanted. Something I’d long despaired of ever achieving.
Freedom.
To do what I wanted, to go where I wanted. To be with whomever I wanted. Or not, as was more likely.
Tears stung my eyes and I rapidly blinked them away. There’d been no tears in twelve years. There would not be tears now. Not here, in this place, where others might be watching.
I took another deep breath. It didn’t do much to halt the trembling in my body or the turmoil still threatening to overwhelm me. I frowned and concentrated instead on my wrists. They were indeed scarred. Layer upon layer of successive burns had forced healing skin to follow the bracelets’ pattern, so that it now appeared as if I wore leather imitations.
For now and forever, these scars would be a permanent reminder of the evil that now stained the might of the glass throne—an evil that might yet throw this land into darkness.
My frown deepened at the thought, but I had little time to wonder at its origin. Unhindered now by the restraint bracelets, the earth’s energy surged, hitting me with so much force it blasted me from the bench seat down to the ground.
Where I remained, on hands and knees, my body shaking as fiercely as the earth under my fingertips. The ground grew so hot it felt like my hands were pressed against a furnace—one that didn’t burn—and the night’s scents and sounds sharpened almost to the point of pain. Still the power surged, a force I could not deny—didn’t want to deny. But the earth was intent on reclaiming every part of me—every hair and cell—and she stormed through my body so fiercely it felt as if I was being stretched beyond the limits of life.
But oh, it felt so beautiful, so enriching, to once again be a part of such a force, to hear the welcoming cries of all those who had gone before me. Those cries pulled me deeper and deeper into the earth’s warm embrace, until my mind spun, my connection to life weakened, and the desire to leave flesh behind and become one with them was a pulse that beat through every part of me.
It was tempting.
So very tempting.
“Princess,” a distant voice said. “You must pull away.”
No, a silent part of me screamed. Not after twelve years of only hearing her heartbeat, of never truly feeling her touch or hearing her advice.
But that other voice would not give up. Would not let me be. “You have to control it, Princess, or you’ll destroy us all.”
Destroy? The earth only ever welcomed; there was no intent to truly destroy in either her voice or her actions. Not unless I wished it.
“Princess, do you hear me?”
I hear. Not just his voice or his words, but the alarm that ran through both. It cut through the power haze, brought me back to myself.
I reached for my knife and drew it from the sheath. The glass hilt felt cool in my grip, and it tore past the final veils of heat and madness. The earth meant no harm, but in her exuberance, she would cause damage if I didn’t control her.
I thrust the knife’s sharp point into the hard ground, creating a channel through which the energy could reenter the earth.
It was as if a switch had been flicked. I was in full control and aware once again.
Around me lay destruction, and its cause was those few vital seconds in which I’d been at the earth’s mercy, unable to control the energy that surged through and around me. That force had been so strong it had radiated out in waves, causing the ground to heave in response. The hauler seemed to have escaped with only minor damage, but there were tents, equipment, and people down everywhere else. No one paid any attention to us. They were too busy climbing to their feet and looking at the mess.
Donal knelt in front of me and, though his expression was concerned, he made no move to touch me. Which was good. I might now be in control, but that hyperaware state still lingered. A touch, no matter how gentle, would feel like a blow right now.
A fact he was no doubt very aware of. Earth and air might be very different mistresses, but the aftershocks of such a power surge were nevertheless similar. It was undoubtedly why he’d so quickly recognized what was happening.
“Are you all right?”
Even though it was softly said, it sounded like a shout. But that didn’t stop the smile that touched my lips. “For the first time in twelve years, I can honestly say that I am.”
“Good.” He sat back on his haunches. “Why didn’t you mention you’re an earth mage?”
“Because you didn’t ask, and because I’m not.” I hesitated. “At least, I’ve not trained as one. I took the initiation ceremony, but the restraint bracelets were placed on my wrists not long afterward. I know the theory of control—I’ve read every old book about it that I could get my hands on—b
ut I’ve never really had the opportunity to put that theory into practice.”
“The more I learn about your father,” he muttered, “the more I want to kill the bastard.”
“That’s my task, not yours. Promise you’ll not take it from me, highlander.”
“An easy promise to make, though I do hope you’ll allow me the pleasure of watching it happen.”
“If I have my way, the whole damn court will bear witness.” I pulled my knife from the ground then grabbed the edge of the nearby seat and pushed upright. The earth stirred past the thin soles of my shoes and curled up my legs, but there was no heat, no anger in her touch. It was a simple caress; it was almost as if she feared to release me lest something separate us again and she once again became mute in this land. “Do you think anyone will realize I was the source of this quake?”
“No, and not just because they see you as little more than palace fluff. Mauvaissia is often beset by quakes—Rodestat itself sits between two volcanoes.”
I grunted. I guessed being seen as palace fluff was better than being considered the palace trull. The contempt with which I was viewed within royal circles had to be the worst of the king’s actions against me. But both the unwanted suitors sent to my bed and his whisper and ruination campaign had been designed for one purpose only—to shatter my spirit to such an extent that I would do the one thing they could not.
In the bleakest hour of many a long night, I might well have contemplated ending my life, but never once had I actually taken a step down that dark path. I was far too stubborn to make things that easy for them.
And while none here would have heard the rumors about me, it didn’t mean much. Princesses were generally considered little more than blue blood breeders or bartering material by those who both lived within and without royal tier—and it was an honest enough view given that was generally our lot in life. At least it was in Divona.
“We’d better go help clean up the mess I just made,” I said. “The last thing I need is to be seen standing here doing nothing.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And you think I can afford that? Have no doubt that these men will test me as thoroughly as they test you.”
Yes, but his tests would be ones of weapons and strength. Mine would no doubt be of a more intimate nature.
But at least now I could fight back.
At least now, I could say no.
I found the two bracelets, clipped them onto my belt, and then helped Donal right the tables and benches and sort the cooking area into some semblance of order. Thankfully, the damage wasn’t as widespread as I’d first feared—only the camps on either side of us had been caught in the power backlash. The rest of the convoy remained intact. No one suspected the true cause of the damage, either. Most had, as Donal had said, placed the blame on a localized quake.
Once order had been restored, I dragged a sleeping roll from the rear of our hauler, retrieved my backpack from the front pod, and then retreated into our tent. I didn’t unroll my bedding on the platform, but rather on the ground. I was too used to listening to the heartbeat of the earth to separate myself from her now.
But before I stripped off, I unclipped the bracelets and studied them. These things had ruled my life for the last twelve years and a part of me—a very large part of me—wanted nothing more than to open the earth and bury them deep inside. But that other part—the part where hate and anger still festered so fiercely—dreamed of returning these bracelets in kind to the king and my brother.
To force on them what had been forced on me.
I grimaced and shoved the bracelets into the pack. In truth, no matter how sweet such a dream might be, there was very little hope of it ever eventuating. Aside from the fact I only had control over the one set of restraint bracelets, the king would order me dead—and to hell with the god’s anger—long before I got anywhere near him.
I stripped to my underwear and then climbed inside the bedroll. And went to sleep to not just the earth’s heartbeat, but to her gentle assurance that none would come near without her forewarning me.
For the second night in a row, I felt totally and utterly safe.
Watch duty came around entirely too fast. I wiped the grittiness of sleep from my eyes and climbed out of the bedroll. The air was cold and the night still. Captain Marx was fast asleep, but Donal was already up and dressed, studying some paperwork on the small desk near the door.
“Morning, Princess,” he said, without looking at me. “There’s coffee on the heating element if you want something to warm your insides.”
“I do. Thanks.” I quickly dressed, then strapped on my knife and walked over to pour myself a drink. The coffee looked like sludge and smelled burned, but it was better than nothing. “What are you studying?”
“Duty stations, criminal records and photos, and the captain’s dot-point thoughts of our teams.” He picked up a stack of notes and handed them to me. “You might want to have a look.”
I perched on the edge of the desk and did so. Three of my people—one woman and two men—had Sifft blood, which made sense given heightened senses would be a definite advantage in such a position. All three were nothing more than common thieves. Dravan, however, had nary a squirt of Sifft in his bloodline and was a murderous thug with a record eighteen years in the making. Given he was only twenty-five, he’d obviously started his bullyboy ways at a very young age. He also had a problem with authority figures—especially if that figure was a woman—with more than half of his convictions involving retaliation against those who tried to either tell him what to do or get him to conform.
Marx had added a “do not tread lightly around this man or pay the price” warning in big, bold letters at the bottom of his notes.
No wonder there’d been laughter when Dravan had been assigned to my team. He’d obviously already gained a fearsome reputation amongst the troops. If I couldn’t deal with him, the next six months were going to be hell.
Which made me suspect Dravan might be the bullet my brother had fired when we’d left Divona. Or, at least, one of them.
“The caliber of men and women in this squad is even worse than I’d imagined,” I muttered. “It’s a wonder the Mauvaissians haven’t complained.”
Donal shrugged. “Would it make any difference if they did?”
“No, but I can’t imagine it would be easy accepting scum like this into their society.”
“Given the Mauvaissian love of a good fight, it probably isn’t such a problem.”
“I guess.” I hesitated. “I think my brother has had some say in the composition of my unit.”
Donal’s gaze shot to mine, his concern evident. “What makes you think that?”
“The fact that he fired an imaginary gun at me when we left Divona.” I shuffled Dravan’s paperwork to the top and then held it out. “And the fact that this man is in the scouting division, let alone my squad, basically confirms my suspicions.”
Donal briefly scanned the paper. “He’s certainly an unusual pick to be a scout. I could speak to—”
“No,” I cut in. “I’d rather he was close, so I can keep an eye on him rather than have him floating around causing problems out of sight.”
“True enough.” He paused and frowned. “If your brother fears you taking back what he has stolen, why hasn’t he simply killed you? Even if he didn’t want to do it himself, he surely would have had ample opportunity to order it done.”
“Except that I’m cursed, and he fears the possible reprisals.”
Donal’s eyebrows rose. “You father did mention that, but in what way are you cursed? And why would he fear it?”
“I was branded at birth by Lokain, the god of war and the destroyer of houses. Neither the king nor my brother can kill me directly or even order it done, because Lokain’s wrath would fall upon them. Whether that’s true or not, I can’t say, but it’s the only reason I’m still alive.”
“Is there a history of your war god doing this? Because it’s rather interestin
g that you bear his mark at a time when change is coming.”
“To be honest, I don’t really know much more than what the legend states.” I shrugged. “It’s been both my bane and my savior, and I’ve never really thought about it beyond that.”
“So what does this brand look like?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Given it dominates the lower part of my spine, I’m surprised you didn’t notice it when we were both naked.”
“We were in the cell for most of that time and it was night. It’s safe to say I had other things on my mind.” Amusement twitched his lips and touched the corners of his blue eyes. “Which is not to say I was oblivious to your state of undress.”
I raised my eyebrows. “From where I was sitting, certain parts of your body did not reflect that notice.”
His smile grew. “We highlanders have supreme control over our bodies. Remind me to give you an intimate demonstration one of these days.”
I snorted softly. “If we survive the next six months, I might just consider it.”
“Good.” He motioned to Dravan’s papers. “I think it would be wise to mention the possibility of Dravan being a plant to the captain.”
“What if he’s aware of it? What if he’s in collusion with my brother?”
“I doubt it. The captain’s a career soldier—”
“Career soldiers can just as easily be corrupted by coin as thugs.”
“Yes, but in this case, I trust him. More importantly, so does the wind.”
“If the order for Dravan’s inclusion in my team came down from the commander—or even direct from my brother—there’s nothing the captain can do about it.”
“I still think he should be made aware of the situation.”
“Maybe. Let’s just wait and see what happens today. I might be wrong, after all.”
I doubted it, but the last thing I wanted was to be running to the captain at the first sign of a possible problem. It would only firm his belief that I was out of my league.
