Enthroned by Amethysts (A Dance with Destiny Book 3)

by JK Ensley

  Munenori stepped back and all the Dragons gathered around as close as they dared. She closed her eyes. Her mind was running wild with thoughts of the coming war, her recent guardianship, her beloved sons—and the soul-jarring revelation that one was not. She took a deep breath, pushing it all away.

  I don’t know exactly what it is You wish of me, but I am ready. Use me as You will. Make me what You wish me to be. I will no longer fight against my fate. I wish now only to embrace it. I’m ready to dance with my destiny.

  She felt that same invoking, loving warmth she had experienced before. First, on the day of her Pyrolysis, again on the day her epiphany came whilst in exile on layer eight… and then the time she was remade, during her epic visit to hell.

  Jenevier slowly opened her eyes and beheld her glowing palms. When the light exploded, it was the same as the moment she had said aloud those healing words to her loving brother Vanir, Vittorio. Time and the world around her stood still.

  Well done, little one, little Kagi Naga. Know this. You must accept the Blessing I have already bestowed upon you, tiniest of Angels. And now, accept what you are… what you have always been. Thrice I have named you, cherished among My daughters. Go in peace. You are now whole.

  When the millions of fireflies fluttered away, she was left holding two completely different blades, confidence she had never believed possible, and an all-encompassing feeling of just knowing.

  Munenori gasped. “Ahh, Naga. You… are… glorious.”

  “As are you, Brother.”

  “Gratitude, Sister.” He inclined his head toward her. “You have been blessed with weapons as rare as you are. When will you cease to amaze us?”

  “It is not I, Brother. I am but a vessel.”

  “You say it true, Sister. Come. Let me see your blades.”

  It was then Jenevier noticed the gleaming hilts in her hands. “Are mine not made of Prisalyn?”

  “They are, Naga. Yet they glow with their own ethereal color. I have been blessed above all our kind for having witnessed this. Let me see their names.”

  She looked down at the smaller blade. It was about a foot and a half in length, including the hilt, and was doubled edged like a dagger. It bore two names, one on each side, Iole and Máni.

  Munenori laughed. “Ah, it suits you well, Naga. Perfectly named.”

  “What does it mean? I know not these words.”

  He sounded them out. “Iole, eye-OH-lee, which means violet. And Máni, MAH-nee, which means moon.” He snorted out a slight laugh. “When we have the time, lovely sister, I will share with you the whole story. But for now, know these names not only represent your two favorite things—the color purple and our nighttime guardian, the blessed moon. They also correspond to the legend of a great woman. One who was loved by the wrong man, transformed into a beast by her jealous rival, and secretly hidden away from his heart. Wandering, cursed and alone, she made her way to an enchanting foreign land where she eventually became its Queen.” He lightly ran his fingertips across the engraved words. “As I said, Naga, perfect. This is your Violet Moon, little one. Your killing secret.”

  “What do you mean, killing secret?”

  “Notice how this blade has a pommel? See how the guard comes out on both sides, pointing back down to the tip? It’s similar in design to the ninja’s Sai blade. You’ve seen those, have you not? Yui keeps two within his belt.” He continued without waiting for her answer. “Now, the pommel will help secure your grip. And the guard serves you twofold.” He held up as many fingers for emphasis. “They can be used to deflect or trap your opponent’s weapon. And they also ensure your hand doesn’t slide up the blade, slicing open your palm while you’re stabbing.” He made a lunging motion as he spoke. “A rather easy mistake to make, once the knife is slick with your adversary’s blood. See where your sheaths have been placed?”

  Jenevier looked down to see a strap running between her breasts, disappearing over her right shoulder. She turned slightly and saw the opening of one scabbard there. The second hung just below her hipbones, as a belt. The scabbard lay straight across her butt, its opening on her left side. Munenori placed his hand over hers, slowly guiding the smaller of the two blades until it was fully sheathed there.

  “When cloaked, this blade will be hidden.”

  She looked down and behind her. The violet glow was now concealed.

  “It is your killing blade, Naga. Iole Máni has but one purpose. When locked in combat, it is your unseen secret. Use it well.” He took hold of her other wrist and she turned the blade. “Amatiste, ah-mah-TEE-stay, it means amethyst. And it is not named such for its deep purple glow alone, no. Amethysts have been used for centuries as sort of a protection charm by men going off to war, hoping they will return home triumphant. Amatiste is used to protect soldiers in battle—your soldiers, Naga—and is meant to ensure victory.”

  This one was a much longer blade, doubled edged only at the tip, and single edged up its length. It was as light as a feather. She liked the feel of it in her hand.

  “Amatiste is your fighting weapon, your protection, and your defense.” He again slowly guided her hand and didn’t remove his until her sword rested in its sheath across her back. “Amatiste will ensure your victory and Iole Máni will ensure your kill.” He placed his hands upon her cheeks. “I am brought low in your presence, Kagi Naga, my little sister.” He kissed her forehead.

  The overwhelming cheers of her Dragons echoed through their minds.

  She giggled. First, it was my unborn babes, then little Mika, and finally Angels spoke inside me. Now, countless Dragons play about in my mind. I shall go mad from all this company.

  “Fear not, lovely sister. It will all seem natural very soon,” Munenori assured.

  The world vibrated, literally.

  She looked down. Her feet actually left the ground with each thunderous boom. Jenevier looked to her new brother and then followed his gaze behind her. Turning slowly, dreadfully, she saw an enormous Dragon coming toward her. He dwarfed his kinsmen by almost twice. Stopping in front of her, he regally bowed his sapphire nose low to the ground.

  Welcome, Mother Naga. I have long awaited your arrival.

  The voice was as deep and otherworldly as one would expect from such a magnificent creature as this. Jenevier placed her right hand in the half-praying manner Munenori had used with Adalin, and returned his dignified bow.

  “Namaste,” she said.

  I am called Nilakanta. NYE-la-khan-tah, he said again, slowly. And I present myself before you to be tested.

  “Tested?”

  Munenori placed his hands on her shoulders. “Fear not. You are Kagi Naga, Mother of Angels and Guardian of Dragons. It is written within their accords… you will hold an extraordinarily special bond with your Dragon. Nilakanta offers himself up to start the ceremony. It is a great honor, little sister. Do not take it lightly.”

  “I am more than honored and I would never take it lightly. They are all my children, are they not? Why would I bond with only one?”

  “They are, yes. But one will match you perfectly. One Dragon will be your constant protector, ally, and right arm in battle.”

  “I see.” She paused and then shook her head. “No, I don’t see. I can understand the pink ones and even the golden ones, sort of. But how am I connected with one as great as this magnificent sapphire one?”

  In answer to her question, Nilakanta snorted hot air in her face. Her single blue curl fell down over her eye.

  “Oh, but this wasn’t part of my blessing.” She touched the curl. “This came from—”

  Everything happens for a reason. The noble Dragon’s voice boomed within her heart.

  “Touch him,” Munenori urged.

  She did as she had before with Adalin, placing her hand upon his soft, warm nose. She immediately felt as if she were spinning through space. Not out of control, but helpless to stop. Lightning bolts shot through her tensed muscles, while molten lava pulsed within her eager veins. Her
wings, absent her for years, spread forth from her sides, humming loudly with the vibration of their joining. All these amazingly mind-reeling sensations collided into one heightened moment—exploding forcefully between them, throwing her backwards.

  Munenori snatched her out of the air, wrapping her up in his protective arms before she could crash into the rock facing. Nilakanta roared, shaking the very stones around them.

  Both beast and woman stared at each other, chests heaving.

  His rumbling laughter seemed to roll through her.

  Was it as good for you as it was for me?

  “It was,” she rasped. “Will it be like that every time we touch?”

  Do you wish it to be? The Dragon laughed again. Could you handle such a thing, tiny Angel?

  “No, Naga,” Munenori whispered in her ear. “That will only happen with the initial bonding, when you are first joined.”

  “So… he’s mine? Nilakanta is mine?”

  As you are mine, Princess. I fear I have hopelessly ruined your future satisfaction with all men. Their touch will no longer please you. Never will you know such ecstasy with another.

  Jenevier looked at him in stunned silence for a moment. She burst out laughing, running to him, wrapping her arms as far around his snout as she could. He lowered one wing invitingly and she immediately scaled up it, straddling his neck at his shoulders. The majestic Dragon felt as soft and smooth as the finest velvet.

  “How can you be covered in hard scales yet feel so good to the touch?”

  Only with you do I feel thus, Naga. Any other being would’ve been sliced in two had they attempted to mount me, as you now do.

  She hugged his neck. “I love the way you feel.”

  And I love the way you feel, Little Fire. Your tiny body puts out enormous amounts of heat. And your scent, Naga, your scent is… mind altering.

  “Nilakanta, do not insinuate such vile things to your bonded Guardian,” Munenori scolded. “She doesn’t even comprehend the awful things you’re implying. She is yet innocent in that regard. Not vulgar, as are you. Act proper with her. She is your Kagi Naga.”

  “Oh poo. Don’t listen to him, Nilakanta. He’s just jealous. That handsome Angel down there is upset because lightning did not strike when we first touched.” She smiled down at Munenori and winked.

  Oh, but it did, Naga. Remember you not how he trembled when first he tasted you? The sapphire Dragon vibrated under her with laughter. His jealousy comes only from you not responding in-kind. He wishes your play with him was real. Wishes your teasing touches were laced with want. Can you not see it plainly within his head? That old Angel desires you, Milady.

  Munenori rolled his eyes and made a snorting sound before he stomped off. “Ugh, Dragons.”

  Jenevier laughed. Nilakanta, you are horrible.

  You have no idea, little Naga.

  Spreading her priceless wings, she flew from her Dragon’s back, landing lightly in front of her brother Angel.

  She smiled. “I got my wings back.” She turned from side to side, showing them off.

  Munenori admired them. “I can see that.” He placed a soft hand upon her cheek. “You never actually lost them, Jenevier. They were simply weighed down with grief.” He stroked her with his thumb. “The only thing you truly lost was your confidence, Milady.”

  “You called me Jenevier,” she whispered.

  “I did.”

  “Why?”

  “You said you yet claim that name.”

  “I do.”

  “I am glad you do.” He smiled softly. “It is beautiful.”

  She fell silent, staring at the ground between them. He reached out, gently lifting her chin.

  “What causes such trepidation in a Death Angel?” He lightly tapped the tip of her nose. “I like it so much better when you smile.”

  “Munenori?” Her voice quivered.

  “What is it, lovely Angel?”

  “I have been too afraid to ask, but… will you tell me what has happened to the universe while I was hiding in my peaceful little valley? I am not so foolish as to think a war is headed my way without it burning a wide path to my door. Do you know where the war’s been? Do you know who all it has touched?”

  Munenori lowered his head. “Speak a name upon the wind, Naga. Draw out any name that may come to your mind. Speak it. This war has touched them. Brutally, lethally has it touched them.”

  Tears spilled down her trembling cheeks. “All of them? The whole of creation?” She grabbed his hands and held them tightly to her aching chest. “Has my Vindicus returned to the creature he once was?”

  She could see great pity in his eyes as he spoke.

  “With a vengeance, Milady. With a gruesome, horrible vengeance.”

  “So… my heart, my essence, it didn’t change him after all. Our unfathomable love wasn’t strong enough.” She felt hollow, empty inside. “Our immaculate tie did not bind.”

  Munenori pulled her into his arms and held her, comfortingly, protectively.

  “Once again you err, Little Fire. It’s because your love was too strong, too powerful. He could not forget the way you made him feel… the way your smile melted him, the way your giggles enveloped his heart, the way your kiss was his utter undoing. No matter how many eons he would have to wait, he would gladly do it… just to gaze upon you from afar. He will never be able to resist your pull. No, Milady. He is changed. It’s now because of you, not in spite of you, he rains down such fury.”

  “So, that’s what you meant? When you said this whole thing comes back to me. I’m the starting point.” She buried her face deeper into his chest. “How is it I cannot even love without causing mass destruction? What is wrong with me, Munenori?”

  He stroked her hair. “Because, beautiful lady.” He smiled at the memory of her self-deprecating description. “You’re a delicious poison.”

  He felt her laughing in his arms, chuckles shaking her shoulders.

  Munenori lifted her chin and gently kissed her. “It is as it should be,” he whispered.

  She smiled at him and squeezed him tighter. “Where were you going just now, Senpai? Where were you stomping off to like that? And minus a proper farewell, I might add.”

  “Ahh, my lovely Little Fire.” He held her at arm’s length and looked her in the eye. “You have your weapons, your Dragons, your wings, your name, and even your claws. I go to bring your odd little family here as well. The time has come. Hell is upon us.”

  Tears burned her ethereal eyes.

  Munenori leaned forward, placing his mouth close to her ear. “Tell me true. Are you ready, Kagi Naga?”

  “…I am.”

  Chapter 47

  Jezreel

  (zhez-REEL)

  “Who are you, really? And don’t try to bear false tongue with me—I will know. Who are you? Where did you come from? And more importantly, what do you want?”

  “I am Kias… really.”

  Jezreel sat down at the table and accepted the fresh tea she hadn’t even noticed he’d prepared.

  “Milady,” he said, as he sat the cup in front of her.

  She finally looked at him then, really looked at him for the first time. There was no real way she could possibly guess his age. He looked as young as a boy and as old as an ancient. His skin was fair and flawless. His long hair was glistening white but looked as soft as a babe’s. Yet, it was his eyes that threw her the most. They were clear and vibrant, wise and deep. They were terrifying and beautiful, dangerous and kind, loving and cold.

  How can one man’s eyes speak with so many different voices?

  Her continued silence caused him to look up from his tea. Here, out of the daylight, now that the sun had set and the moon had risen, those eyes were beyond haunting. She had seen their terrifying beauty while they sparred on the lawn. Now, they were just terrifying. Never had she seen eyes such as these—absent color, no whites, black as a starless night, and utterly unnerving. Only when he blinked did she notice the faint flash of
gray. He did have pupils. His solid black eyes held a soft gray circle at their very center. She squirmed in her seat but dared not break their gaze.

  Kias had lowered his guard, dropped his guise. Or perhaps he didn’t even realize what it was he now allowed her to glimpse. Jezreel was intrigued, more so than she should have been. She was enamored, mayhap. Kias was, for lack of a better word, curious. Ah, curiosity, her one true weakness.

  “And?” she prodded.

  “I hail from this layer, Sharna.”

  “Oh, so you know about layers, do you?”

  His porcelain cheeks flushed at being caught so easily off guard. The rosy glow made him look ever younger, softening her unease.

  “I do,” he confessed.

  “And of Guardians? Do you know about the Guardians?”

  “Yes. I know of Guardians and Angels and demons and four-legged creatures who can speak as we do.”

  “I see. And why have you come here? You’re not using an illusion, not donning a mask.” She couldn’t imagine anyone choosing this form as a disguise. “You care not if you blend in or look as we do. Kias, what do you want? Know you not I am broken? Have you come to strike the final blow upon my soul? Just tell me. What is it you wish from me? Why do you insist on torturing me with your very presence?”

  “Is my appearance torturous to you? Apologies, Jezreel.”

  She couldn’t tell if it was a trick of the candlelight, or if it was tears that caused the wavering glint in his black eyes. A painful lump formed in her throat. Suddenly, her sharp words left her feeling miserable.

  I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings, she thought. Wait… Why would my opinion of his appearance hurt his feelings?

  Kias softly cleared his throat. “I would rather die than add to your pain. I wish only to sing to you… if you will allow it. That’s why I’m here, in hopes that you would.”