by C. A. Worley
“You and Viktor did what was necessary, Luka,” Mariana contended. “When you were old enough and knew things could not continue, you saved Prajna from a wicked man.”
“We did not do it alone. Others were not as lucky to live long enough to see it through.
He opened his palm and ran his finger along the edges of his cicatrice. His had an irregular shape. It was serrated, somewhat similar to a lightning bolt. Or, it had been.
Nikolai had purposefully defaced it by forcing Luka to hold the wrong end of a blade. He’d splayed it open and refused to allow Luka to seek the healer. His father had laughed maniacally, taunting him by saying Luka would never find the match.
“Sometimes I wonder if it was worth the price,” he mused remorsefully.
Dmitri’s death. The lack of sievas. No live births. It was a hefty fine to pay. Luka didn’t regret assisting Viktor in usurping the throne. It didn’t mean he rejoiced in it either. Patricide was a ghastly deed, no matter the circumstances.
Eden moved close to Luka and put a hand on his shoulder.
“I’d like to think you were the flames, as well,” she said. “After a fire, everything is blackened. Charred. Lifeless. However, under all the devastation, under the ash and ruins, life blooms anew. It might only be the tiniest of seeds, but it can grow and thrive. A life that would never have stood out among the invasive weeds had the fire not extinguished what should never have been allowed to take root.”
She held up her palm, showing her crescent-shaped birthmark. “It’s taken a century, but this might be the start. Let us have hope, Luka. Without it, life becomes inundated with weeds.”
Luka’s mouth twisted. “You’ll not allow me to wallow, will you?”
“No. It’s not in my nature to put up with such nonsense.”
Mariana giggled, enjoying how easily Eden pulled Luka out of his forlorn reverie. The Prajna simply did not speak to the royals like this. Eden was special.
“Well, I for one …” Mariana began when a commotion of voices echoed into the room. Three heads swung towards the opened doors.
“She’s kept me waiting for hours. I’ll not be blamed for the disaster this dress shall become!” a male voice boomed.
“Stay here,” Luka ordered and jogged towards the entryway. Just outside was a good-sized space where people typically congregated while waiting to enter the throne room.
Eden followed and Mariana grabbed at her arm.
“We should stay in here,” she firmly suggested.
“I’m not leaving. I just wanted to see what was going on. It sounds like some male crying over a dress.”
“Then we really should stay put. I’m serious, Eden. You shouldn’t follow Luka.”
Eden’s eyes narrowed at her friend’s reproach. Her head twisted towards the door. She could see Luka and two others arguing quietly. She wrote off Mariana’s suggestion and strode towards the doors.
One of the men was rather portly, waving a blood-red dress around in both hands. His face was ruddy, giving him an even angrier appearance. The thick leather belt around his large midsection contained a variety of scissors, threads, and other tools for sewing.
The other two, Luka and a palace guard, had their hands up in a placating manner, but the dressmaker was having none of it.
“Please don’t go out there,” Mariana implored, tugging on Eden’s hand.
“He’s not going to sew me to death. Calm yourself,” Eden reprimanded, deciding not to leave the doorway since Mariana was getting so worked up. The female’s grip tightened.
“Tis the Queen’s dress. I’ve not finished it because it needs a final fitting. She was to meet me here and I’ve seen neither hide nor hair of that female. How can I finish this before the ceremony if she’ll not give me the time of day?”
Eden stilled. Someone had made her a dress? While thoughtful, it was not something she’d expected—and she’d never have chosen to wear such a garish shade, not with her coloring.
“Prajna has not crowned a Queen, Gorlind. Do not refer to her as such until it is done.”
Eden flinched at the vehemence in Luka’s tone. Maybe he was still upset about earlier?
“Forgive me, Sire, but the ceremony is in two weeks. I only meant this is the dress for the wedding which will give Prajna its new Queen. I need to finish it.”
Eden cleared her throat and Luka spun around.
“What ceremony?” she asked.
Eden had never broached the subject of a binding ceremony or a wedding with Viktor. He had a lot to deal with and she’d put it off, accepting the soul-bond was far more significant than any legal commitment.
It was sweet he was planning something. Though, she would like to have been involved. She’d need to reach out to her family and make sure they could attend if it was only two weeks away.
Butterflies fluttered and she suddenly felt very excited at the prospect of walking down the aisle towards her love.
“Mariana, take Eden back to her rooms.”
Mariana pulled on Eden’s hand, but Eden shook her off, confused over the sharpness in Luka’s voice.
“What ceremony?” she repeated. Everyone was acting very strangely, like she was not to know anything of her own wedding.
“The King’s wedding, of course,” Gorlind chuffed. “It’s been planned forever, nearly a century. Why people plan these things so far in advance is beyond me, but to each their own.”
“But … I’ve only known Viktor a short time.”
Gorlind coughed, “Yes, well—"
“Eden. Go back to your chambers.” Luka’s voice whipped through the air, interrupting the dressmaker.
“Absolutely not,” she denied him, the fluttering in her stomach turning to apprehension.
When Luka made to step towards her, she raised her hands, wiggling her fingers in silent challenge. She was already edgy, her powers itching and pulsing to be released. If he touched her, she’d scorch him.
“Gorlind, was it?” she said to the stout male.
“Yes, m’lady. Prajna’s finest dressmaker,” he boasted, adding a shallow bow. “And who might you be, mala kurva?”
Little lass he’d called her.
No queen on any throne would be addressed as such. No soon-to-be queen would be, either. He’d seen ‘neither hide nor hair of that female.’ He knew who he was looking for. It obviously wasn’t Eden.
Her synapses started firing, her shrewd intellect puzzling things out. The spokes and cogs of her psyche spun, outputting suppositions, pushing past conjecture and aligning with Gorlind’s words and her companions’ behaviors.
Her theories were barreling towards one cruel conclusion.
Eden’s heart pounded and the oxygen seemed to leave the room. In a way it did—she was inadvertently absorbing it.
“I am Eden, daughter of King Edward of Gwydion,” her voice rang true, not betraying the storm raging inside. Her iron grip on her internal tempest was dangerously close to slipping.
“You—you’re the King’s sieva,” he stammered.
“Eden, I beg you,” Mariana sniveled, pulling at her arm once more.
Eden remained entrenched in her internal war, refusing to be budged. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the red dress in Gorlind’s chubby hands. The lurid silk and tulle swished as he shifted uncomfortably, grating on her tremulous emotions.
“To whom does this dress belong?” she demanded.
His beady eyes darted around. Luka gave a subtle shake of his head. Gorlind’s gaze searched for a way out, settling on something beyond the royal guard.
“To-to the future Queen,” Gorlind panted.
Eden followed his line of vision to a figure down the hall. Long white hair framing a heart-shaped face. Red pouty lips. A body any male would kill to possess—or, perhaps, in this case, marry.
“Gorlind?” Bianca called, halting when she saw the tense group circled around him.
The future Queen of Prajna had come to meet her dressmaker.
> The revelation could not be reconciled with what Eden knew Viktor felt for his mate, with how he treated her, the extent of care he’d shown. The bond could not lie.
Locked away in his chambers, kept away from the Prajna for her own safety? Or to keep his sieva away from his precious fiancé? her inner voice taunted, chipping away at Eden’s confidence.
Something in the back of her mind told her she needed to pay attention. Eden needed to think rationally, to sort through the evidence logically.
Viktor did not love Bianca, of this she was sure. As she zeroed in on the serpentine pattern of rubies sewn into the bodice of that abominable gown, Eden realized it did not matter.
The truth was in front of her, striking her right in the chest, taking a lethal swipe at her heart.
Eden’s blood thundered through her veins. The vampires surely heard it, probably mistaking it for fear of Gorlind’s answer.
It wasn’t Eden’s fear driving her pulse. It was rage. Deep-seated and fierce, white-hot from her magic. If they cut her open her blood would boil to the surface.
She fed on it, welcomed it. It was a far better substitute than the total annihilation of her heart. She could feel her magic eating at the soul-bond, pummeling it in punishment for the betrayal she could not comprehend.
Eden’s breaths came faster and faster. Luka’s muffled voice started barking orders. She couldn’t hear it over the roar of blood pounding in her ears.
Soul-deep pain traveled up and down the bond as she continued the assault, desperately trying to sever it, to break free of the anchor that would surely hold her down and drown her.
Something hot kissed her cheeks, crackling next to her ears. It was familiar, soothing, enveloping her entire body in its warmth. Eden handed her sorrow over to her fury, feeding it, consenting to its control.
“Luka, do something!” Mariana screeched, watching in horror as Eden went up in flames.
A vice clamped around her waist and she felt the familiar compression of traveling through space with a vampire. The accompanying wave of dizziness lasted only a moment as they reappeared under the frigid waves.
Luka had ported them to the bottom of the ocean.
Chapter 23
Western Forest of Prajna
They were moving slowly, sacrificing time for the sake of thoroughness. The group had agreed it was worth the loss of daylight.
Yuri was with Alec and another wolf, a half-mile away, while Kellan and Viktor stayed close to Bran.
It was painstaking work and they hadn’t made much progress. Vampires could port, so there was a good chance whomever they were seeking had simply disappeared and gone someplace far away.
Their hope was that they would find a cave or shelter where Agatha had been hiding. If she was with anyone, the dwelling or her things might have a scent they could track.
No one had spoken since they’d started.
As Viktor followed behind Kellan, he pressed on the skin above his heart. It had started with a dull ache a minute ago and was now becoming painful.
He reasoned he might be experiencing some level of uneasiness, hunting one of his own. He rarely felt such emotions, but since he’d met Eden, he had started to feel more and more.
He pictured his little mate in his mind and stumbled, catching himself on the trunk of a tree.
Kellan whipped around. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” Viktor lied. He didn’t know the answer, but he was struck with the need to check on Eden.
Two howls erupted from the other group and the three of them sprinted towards the sound. They came upon a section of thick thorn bushes growing under the darkened canopy.
Viktor sniffed the air. Agatha’s stench was strong here.
“Look,” Alec pointed into the brush.
Between a small cluster of trees there was a hovel, fashioned out of branches and tall grasses. Viktor was considering porting into it when agony burst through the soul-bond, powerful enough to bring him to his knees.
Kellan reached for Viktor’s shoulder. “What’s wrong? Do not lie to me again.”
“Eden,” Viktor croaked.
Kellan looked at the shack then down to the vampire, torn. Yuri stepped forward and the Vampire King held up his hand.
“No,” Viktor ordered. “Stay here, both of you, and find what we need. I have to get to Eden.”
Kellan held onto Viktor’s elbow as the male rose to his feet. “Take Bran with you. He’ll be able to scent the bastard, if he’s there.”
Viktor reached for Bran and ported them both to Castra Nocte.
* * *
Coastline, Eastern Prajna
Luka grunted in pain as the boiling water ate away his skin. Eden fought furiously to surface, but he held her under, fearing the air above would fuel the flames.
He wouldn’t be able to keep them here for long.
Eden opened her mouth to cry out and her lungs filled with salt water. She thrashed and kicked, panicked by the deadly burn in her chest, but Luka did not let go.
She grabbed at his arms, desperate for oxygen. They felt slippery and … wrong. She didn’t have the capacity to question what it meant.
Her heart started to slow, unable to continue its sprint without a supply of air. The fight inside her bled out into the sea as her mind began to blank.
Compression clamped down on her again and she landed hard. Luka rolled Eden to her side, scraping her face on the rough sand under her cheek. Her lungs resisted the water and she retched onto the beach.
Luka held her in that position until her heaving stopped. He removed his hands and fell to his back beside her.
They both laid there, panting. Eden lifted her eyelids, expecting to see a starry sky. All she could see was mist.
“I would prefer it, my dear, if you not do anything like that again,” Luka wheezed.
Eden twisted to look at him and gasped. She pushed herself up to her knees and reached a shaky hand towards his.
“It might be best if you do not touch me right now.”
Eden gaped down at Luka’s arms, or, rather, of what was left of them. Most of his shirt had been burned away, along with his skin. His hands and forearms looked as though they’d been peeled open, parts of his muscles visible.
Angry red welts where he’d been singed were swollen on his chest and face. Deeper burns coated his lower abdomen. Light pink liquid oozed everywhere.
“Luka, I—I am so sorry.”
“Nonsense. You didn’t burn me. I grabbed you while you were lit up brighter than the sun. Completely my fault.”
“No, I am the one to blame. I lost control of myself. I’ve never … I’ve never lost control,” she sniffled.
“I think you were well within your rights.”
“No, don’t move,” Eden scolded through her tears when Luka tried to sit up.
“Didn’t you know? We Prajna heal extremely fast and our healer is quite good. This will be completely gone in only,” he paused and looked at his injuries, “days.”
“Only days he says,” she mumbled, wiping her eyes.
“Faster if I get blood.”
Eden began rolling up her sleeve and Luka scooted back, like she was on fire again.
“Oh, no, little witch. I’ll not be courting the wrath of Viktor just yet.”
The fresh wound in Eden’s soul continued to seep at the mention of his name. She checked the bond. It was still there, as she knew it would be. Only death could sever it.
“I’m not sure he would care,” she countered.
“Then you don’t know him very well.”
“I’m thinking I don’t know him at all.”
“Come now,” Luka ridiculed, “do not be a bigger fool than he has been.”
“But aren’t I? A fool? Tell me, Luka, how long has he known he was going to marry Bianca.”
“I don’t think he will.”
“How long?”
Luka’s shoulders slumped. “Since the contract was made with Dmitri.”
Eden swallowed. “He has been betrothed to her, all this time? Is this common knowledge?”
“He doesn’t want her.”
“It doesn’t matter!” she snapped.
“It does. It matters greatly, Eden.”
“He’s played me for the fool,” she shook her head ruefully. “I won’t stay. I cannot stand by and watch him marry another. How could he possibly think I would?”
“How could you possibly think he would let you go?” he groaned as he lifted himself up.
Luka needed blood and he need to deal with the mess they’d left behind outside the throne room. Eden stood with him, holding her hands out like she’d catch him if he fell.
“It’s not his choice to make, Luka.”
“Fair enough. Best of luck getting home.”
“Excuse me?” she squeaked.
“Take a look at your surroundings.”
Creases appeared on Eden’s forehead. Slowly, she rotated in a circle. She’d assumed he’d taken her to the shore near Castra Nocte. As she spun, all she saw was water. They were on an island, and a tiny one at that.
She couldn’t see past the mist surrounding the island, so she had no idea how far from land he’d taken her.
“You’ll not leave me here.”
“I’ll be back. Hopefully with Viktor and you two can have a chat.”
“Luka, so help me—”
Her shriek cut off as he ported back to the entryway. He’d assumed Gorlind and the others would have scattered by now, but they were all there.
It seemed they couldn’t have left, not with Bianca’s neck currently in the jaws of a large wolf, and an enraged Viktor eying them like they were his next meal. Timing really was everything, wasn’t it?
“So, what did I miss?” he jibed, ducking just in time to miss his brother’s fist flying towards his face.
Chapter 24
“Where is my sieva?!” Viktor roared.
“Calm yourself, Viktor,” Luka placated, dodging a second blow. “Your mate is unharmed.”
“Where is Eden?” he demanded again.
