The Legends of Regia Box Set: The Complete Series. Books 1-7

by Tenaya Jayne

  “Fight!” Samuel yelled.

  She moved forward, raising her arm again. She’d expected him to hold on to his weapon, but she miscalculated. Urhal’s axe came flying across the arena at her. She moved to the side, but the blade clipped the side of her arm. He ran toward her.

  She lashed out. The hooked tip of her whip snapped into Urhal’s eye and tore it out as she pulled back. As he yelled and held his face, she ran and slid next to him and out of his sight. He tried to look around as he drew his longsword. Coming up behind him, drawing her katana, she sliced deep into the soft place behind both of his knees in one fluid move.

  He fell back, his legs now unable to hold up his weight. He thrust his sword clumsily at her from the ground. She kicked the sword from his grasp and caught it. She jumped onto his chest and stabbed clean through his hand, pinning him to the ground with his own sword. Crouching down, she held her katana to his throat.

  “No! Please!” A terrified plea reflected in his eyes.

  She flinched. “Do you yield?”

  “Yes! Yes, I yield!”

  She stood up and looked at Samuel. “I win.”

  When he scowled, she turned to the crowd. “Say it again, Urhal!”

  “Sabra wins!” he shouted.

  “Did you all hear him?” she demanded.

  Half of the crowd booed, but the rest, the women mostly, began chanting, Sabra won! Sabra won!

  She turned back to Samuel. “There’s no need for me to kill him. The match is mine.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “All right,” he said slowly. “Prepare for your next match.”

  She moved to the edge of the arena, sheathed her sword, and recoiled her whip. Urhal was lifted and taken away. She touched her arm gently, testing the severity of the wound. Blood saturated her sleeve all the way down to her wrist. She sighed, feeling the chill creep into her arm as she continued to lose blood.

  Sabra leaned against the ropes, the crowd pressing in behind her. There was too much congestion, people packed in too closely, that no one noticed what happened to her. Her breath caught as she felt Shreve touch her shoulders. Still invisible, he tied a strip of cloth around her arm. He said nothing, pressed a kiss against her temple, and absorbed back into the crowd.

  Gahu came into the arena and faced her from the other side. Now the hard part.

  His weapons of choice were a broadsword and a mace. She felt the lingering trace of Shreve’s kiss on her temple. He was watching, she reminded herself. She would make him proud. She would win this for him.

  “I’ll have no mercy on you, bitch,” he yelled. “You’re going to die. The pack could never be led by a traitorous whore like you.”

  The men in the crowd cheered at his statement.

  “You’ll be begging for my mercy, Gahu. I guess we’ll see if I give it.”

  “Enough!” Samuel yelled. “Fight!”

  He charged instantly. Everything slowed for her. She stepped forward, the whip spiraling around her body as she spun in a circle and then rolled her arm out in a snap. The whip uncoiled in the distance between them. The end wrapped three times around his neck, the shards in the leather biting into his flesh. She pulled the handle with both hands as hard as she could. He went down on his knees, dropping his mace and pulling his sword. In a downward strike, he cut the whip with his sword, the end of it still clinging around his neck like a constricting snake. He quickly unwound it.

  She ran full force into him, before he could get off his knees, knocking him onto his back. She tried to dart away, but he grabbed her ankle, pulling her down, dragging her back to him. His sword flashed through the air. She grabbed his wrist with both of her hands. They strained against each other, pushing. He brought his hand up and grabbed the wound on her arm. She cried out as he dug in his fingers. The pain caused her grip to slacken, and he yanked his sword hand free of her grasp.

  Her leg got twisted wrong under him as he rolled to get up. He tackled her flat on the ground under him, knocking the air from her lungs and pinning her arms straight down between them. He snarled in her face. She remembered her first training session with Asher and the advice he’d given her that day. She stretched her hands down a little farther and grabbed Gahu’s crotch, digging in her nails.

  He cried out and scrambled to get out of her hold. She clung as they rolled over and over. He was pale and out of breath, flat on his back. She turned to the side, grabbed his arm, and wrapped her legs across his upper body. Crossing her ankles by his head, she pulled his arm down, breaking it over her thigh.

  She let go and rolled away from him as soon as she felt the bone snap. He lumbered to his feet, his broken arm hanging uselessly, his sword in his other hand.

  She pulled her katana and brandished it at him. He blocked her strike, and she knew instantly that he was a better swordsman than she was. They circled each other. She thrust at him, but he wound his sword in a circle around hers, the metal sliding together. With a perfect twist of his wrist, her sword flew out of her hand.

  “Now, you die,” he said smugly.

  He swung his sword at her in a wide sideways arc. She ducked it, rolled past his legs, and jumped up behind him. She reached over the top of his head as her hands stretched out into beast form. She hooked her claws into his eyes and pulled him straight down to the ground. Blinded, he let go of his sword, his body going limp. Sabra jumped onto his chest and wrapped her viscous hands around his throat. She allowed him to breathe, the pressure she applied more of a threat.

  “Say it, Gahu. Tell everyone I won. Tell me you yield.”

  Silence fell over the crowd. Everyone held their breath.

  “Live or die?” Her claws bore down.

  “I’d rather die than submit to a woman,” he wheezed.

  His unbroken arm came up, and he grabbed her hair, yanking her head back. Her talons sank through his neck. Gahu choked to death on his own blood.

  She stood, blood dripping from her hands, looking out at the crowd, the shock on their faces mirroring her own. Samuel came up beside her, bent down and touched the ground next to her foot. Everyone followed his lead, bowing to her and touching the ground.

  “Well done,” Shreve whispered in her ear.

  She held still and closed her eyes as the man she loved enveloped her in his invisible arms. She breathed him in, feeling his hair against her cheek.

  “I will love you always, Sabra.” He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, and very briefly her mouth, before releasing her. “Farewell.”

  She was a statue; she felt as if her soul left her body, taken away with his.

  Everyone stood upright again and waited for her to speak, to act.

  I did it. I really did it.

  She swallowed. “Today will be a day of mourning… For Asher.” She had no other words. She picked up Gahu’s mace and strode toward the entrance of the mountain. The people followed, murmuring. She ignored them. She entered the mountain and went straight for the tunnel leading down to the underground.

  There were five women chained in cells down there. Using the mace, she broke open every cell door.

  “Unlock their chains,” she ordered the guard and then turned to face those watching her. “This disgraceful practice is over!” she shouted. “As are many more that have become common place. Go to your homes and finish the day in mourning. Tomorrow, things will be clearer. Tomorrow, I will show you the new direction of our culture. Go now.”

  The crowd funneled out until, finally, she was alone. Sabra’s heart hammered painfully against her ribs as she left the underground and climbed the stairs, past the door of her old home, all the way up to the top. Two guards stood on either side of the double doors. She nodded at them and pushed the doors open.

  She bolted the doors behind her and stood in the center of the vast, stone room that had been empty since Philippe died. To get through it all, she’d held herself perfectly still inside. But now it all broke loose. She sank to the floor, shaking. After Sophie was killed, she’d b
elieved it was impossible to cry harder than that, but at that moment, she proved herself wrong.

  Sabra broke into fragments as she felt everything. She’d won the tournament! That was disbelief and ecstatic joy. She’d lost everyone, her parents, her siblings, and Asher. That was bitter grief and loneliness. She was in love. That was life and oxygen and soul fire.

  Shreve. She said his name over and over, swallowed whole in the anguish of losing him.

  ****

  Shreve watched her as she broke open the cells, feeling pride, and knowing she would be all right. When she sent everyone away, he was the last to go. He could have touched her again. He could have kissed her and told her how much he loved her, but he had already done that. She would have clung to him, and he would have lost his will to go.

  He walked through the Lair and out, only dropping his invisibility once he reached the wilds. His pulse fluttered unevenly, and he gasped as needles of pain shot through his heart and flowed through his veins. Not yet! Not here!

  He had to get to Kyhael as soon as possible. He wasn’t going to make it if he walked. It was the last of his power, the very last drop, he used to open a portal.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Rahaxeris, Merhl, and Tesla all sat around the cube, working on it. To Rahaxeris, she was calm that morning, seemingly pleased that she was there and a part of the process. Merhl was as good as his word and had learned sign language, or enough that he could understand most of what Tesla said.

  All of a sudden she grabbed Rahaxeris by the arm, shocking him with her hand. Her eyes were huge and urgent.

  “What?”

  Shreve is here! Come on! She signed at top speed.

  She jumped up from her chair and bolted from the room. He got up and rushed after her into the main chamber. Shreve was lying on the floor. He looked dead. Rahaxeris picked him up and hefted him to the lab, where he laid him on the operating table. Rahaxeris checked his pulse. He was on the edge.

  Closing his eyes, Rahaxeris put his hands flat on Shreve’s chest. He exhaled, sending a wave of power into his body.

  Shreve gasped and opened his eyes. “I made it…I made it,” he rasped.

  “What happened to you?”

  “Out…of time. You have to take my blood now.”

  Rahaxeris allowed himself only one second to feel, then he gathered his instruments for the extraction. Tesla stood next to the table and took Shreve’s hand. He glanced at her for a moment, then his eyes rolled back, and he fell unconscious.

  Rahaxeris came back to the table, tore open Shreve’s shirt, and swiftly cut open his chest with a long scalpel. He grabbed another instrument with many points, about to insert the end into Shreve’s heart when Tesla ran around to him and knocked the instrument out of his hand.

  Are you crazy? She signed. That’s not right!

  “Tesla, I know what I’m doing. I have to separate all the strands of DNA in his blood.”

  You’re going to kill him!

  “I don’t have time to argue with you! He’s almost dead already. He knew he was giving his life for this. I can’t save him.”

  Maybe you can’t, old man, but I can.

  “Tesla…you don’t…”

  Are we back to that, Grandfather? Remember the cube? I can get what we need for the blood lock and save his life.

  “How?”

  She smiled. Just watch.

  “Don’t call me old man,” he grumbled.

  She put her hands inside Shreve’s chest and operated on him with nothing but her fingers. The red light in her hands extended beyond her skin, stretching and twisting, slicing, or pulling as was needed. She combed through his blood, separating all the parts and races like shafts of hair through a comb. She grabbed a vial, tipped it into the stream, and handed the elixir of Regia’s salvation to her grandfather.

  Shreve was submerged in the darkest currents of death sleep. She didn’t know if he could ever be roused, but she didn’t tell Rahaxeris that she had even a shred of self-doubt. She would have liked to ask Shreve his opinion at that moment, but she had no choice but to select one race for him and discard the others.

  So much of him was taken away. When she closed him back up, his life still hung in the balance. His fate now rested in his own will.

  ****

  In the middle of the night, after an entire day of pouring their talent and magic, along with Shreve’s distilled blood, into the tesseract, Rahaxeris, Merhl, and Tesla all sat back, exhausted. Merhl closed the cube, now glowing a vibrant red. The blood lock was ready. It wouldn’t be active until Journey placed it inside the flames of the Heart and Tesla turned it on.

  Chapter Twenty

  Sabra braced her hands on the railing of her balcony and watched the evening sky dance. After being the leader of the pack for only a week, she’d learned that her gut had been right all along. This was the work she was meant for. It was wonderful and exhausting, and there was already a sense of hope building in the people. There was still much that had to heal, and she recognized it would take considerable time. But time was all she had.

  She threw herself fully into the work, giving her people all of her strength, energy, and mind. But now the day was ending. She looked out from the lofty place over the land. It was an amazing view, one she would never share with anyone. She knew bitterly that her life would be solitary. Only when she was alone did she allow her tears to flow freely, as they did at that moment.

  She was waiting for him. He’d said he would come back to haunt her. He was late.

  The air was thin and cold around her. She went inside and closed the balcony doors. Her new place was most agreeable, since she’d cleaned out all of Philippe’s stuff. The pelts he’d used to wear on his cloak and the ones that were used as rugs and blankets, she’d taken down to the square the morning after the tournament. The dead were identified and claimed by their family members and given proper funeral rights.

  She didn’t see the need in replacing the furniture. The massive bed was terribly comfortable now that she had new bedding for it. But again, despite the softness, its size made her feel alone and adrift at night.

  Tucker had tried to reach out to her. Since she refused to see him, he sent letters of apology, passed to her by her guards. He seemed sincere. She just wasn’t ready to let him back in her life. Not yet. She sat down at her desk with the dinner plate that had been brought in earlier and began reading over the requests the people were starting to send her.

  A knock sounded on her doors. She got up and walked over to them, about to gently give her guards a piece of her mind. It better be urgent, whatever it was, because it was well past the time she allowed anyone to reach her, and they knew it.

  “What is it?” she asked through the door.

  There was no answer. Annoyed, she pulled the long sliding bolt to the side and opened the door. “This better be impor—“

  Her eyes dilated, fire and storm burning through them. The force of an explosion hit her in the chest, and she was thrown backward. The fire storm in her eyes filled her whole head and then spread through her extremities. It burned for one second of agony and then turned to a bright ecstasy. The force pulled her to him. Invisible, immortal cords of light and heat tied them together. Hands, hearts, lungs, eyes, and souls all bound.

  “What just happened?” She was breathless.

  Shreve was trying to catch his breath as well. “If I’m not mistaken, I think you’re my destined life mate.”

  She shook her head, trembling. “Makes no sense… You’re dead.”

  He took her mouth, hot and hard, stealing the little bit of breath she had. “Do I feel like a ghost to you?”

  “Not at all. But how can we be destined life mates? After all the contact we’ve had before?”

  He smiled. “Look closely at me. Do I seem different to you?”

  She looked. He was different. His face was close, very close to what it had been, but he was, unbelievably, even more beautiful than before. The green of his ey
es was clearer, as if his spirit had been cleansed and the past purged from him.

  “Perhaps, some of it was there before. A trace. When we ran together?” she asked.

  “Maybe. I feel as though I have never truly been me, until now. I am changed. I’m healthy now, with a long life ahead of me. I am no longer mixed. My blood has been purified. I am only a shifter now and nothing else.”

  She framed his face, adjusting to the slight difference in his appearance. “If you’re a shifter, and you’re my destined life mate, then this is your true face, Shreve.”

  A single tear slid down his cheek. “I suppose that’s right. This is my true face.”

  She pressed her lips against his tear. “I always saw you.”

  She dragged him inside and bolted the doors. They wound around each other, the ties that bound them pulling tighter until there was nothing between them. They demolished each other’s innocence of physical love throughout the night, using every inch of the considerable real estate of the bed, vast areas of the floor, and even out on the balcony, brazenly under the moon.

  One Month Later…

  The evening was pleasantly warm. Shreve kissed Sabra’s hand. “You look beautiful tonight.”

  She ignored his compliment as though she hadn’t heard it. “Do I look nervous? It’s obvious, isn’t it?”

  “What are you nervous about?”

  “What if your family doesn’t like me?” She fidgeted and smoothed her skirt for the fifth time in a row.

  “They would have no reason to not like you,” he said pragmatically. “If they accept me, after everything I put them through in my previous life, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  She blew out her breath as they entered through the gate into Forest and Syrus’ garden. “I still can’t believe the Hailemarris is your sister.”