A Lair So Sinful

by Zoey Ellis

  I’mya turned to look.

  In the distance, four dragons were coming toward the tower, getting bigger as they approached. A breath caught in her throat. How many brothers were there? Was Nyro with them? Had they come because of her summons or because of the king’s use of their magic?

  She didn’t know, and she wasn’t sure she cared. She just wanted to know that Nyro and his dragon would live. There was no doubt he would kill her for what she’d done, but that was all right. It was only fitting that she joined I’yala. At least, in her own mind, there was some honor in what she’d tried to do. And she was grateful that in her lifetime, she at least knew the kind of pleasure that could exist between an alpha and omega. So many did not experience that, ever.

  As the dragons came closer, they spread out, flanking the tower. There were men on their backs, and on one of them there were two men, but I’mya could not identify them.

  Fire and magic began raining down on the tower, shaking it to its core. I’mya stumbled, grabbing on to the door frame as the whole building shook. The jolts were so powerful, they sent earthquakes along the ground in a circular perimeter. I’mya watched as nearby buildings shook, and the ember that was close to the tower also jolted.

  But the king was not defenseless. Magic exploded in the air around the tower, random bursts targeted at the moving dragons. The dragons swerved to avoid them. They were quick and agile, nothing like the smooth, gentle ride that she’d had on Nyro’s dragon. They twisted and looped upside down to avoid the explosions in the air. She was surprised that the alphas didn’t fall off.

  With every explosion, ember sprouted immediately, clouds of charcoal hovering midair. I’mya screamed a warning to one of the dragons as ember sprouted just before it, but it tilted sideways, swerving just in time.

  Soon the air was filled with ember, and I’mya could see that the king’s intention was to protect the tower with it. However, just as the ember began to fill the sky, a stream of fire from one of the dragons pierced through it, burning the ember into nothing.

  I’mya stared at the disappearing ember in shock. Dragorai fire could destroy it. The king was right. All the ember that had caused him much damage all over the northern cities could be gone and loved ones could be properly buried if the dragons got rid of it.

  She watched in amazement as the four dragons burnt all the ember in the sky, leaving the tower once again open to a full-blown attack.

  Their attack on the tower increased until the walls began to crumble. This was it. This was going to be when the tower was destroyed, and the King of the North would see his end. I’mya moved to stand in the middle of the balcony, trying to hold her balance. This was where she was going to die.

  She dropped to her knees, picking up I’yala’s doll and squeezing it; she closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable. But a whip of beating wings came closer, hovering over her.

  Opening her eyes she saw the dragon, the same one who had hovered over her sister that day, the same one who had been summoned by her magic, and on his back stood Nyro.

  He looked glorious, dressed for battle in black and gold, matching his dragon, his stance fierce. His face was contorted in both anger and determination as he stared directly at her.

  I’mya didn’t move. She looked up at him, expecting that he would wield some kind of magical attack at her or allow his dragon to tear her to shreds.

  The dragon hunched its back and a stream of fire uncurled from his mouth, heading directly at I’mya.

  It was a fitting end. She would leave this life the way that I’yala left it, in fire and heat. She closed her eyes.

  As the fire touched her, she said a prayer for I’yala and her parents, praying to the goddesses that they were treated well in the seven heavens.

  The intense heat melted her clothes almost instantly and tore at her skin, burning her so intensely it was like being smothered in hot agony. But in the midst of that, her claiming bite burned hottest. A heat like she’d never felt before erupted on the bite, and spread over her shoulder, up her neck, and down her back. It covered her entire left arm and scorched down her chest, over her left breast.

  For a moment, I’mya couldn’t figure out why the intense burning that spread from her bite was covering parts of her body, but the pain became too intense. Darkness came for her as she tried to finish her prayer, praying also for Nyro and his dragon, and all the women at the lair.

  Her last thought before the blackness came was of her sister.

  13

  Nyro carried I’mya’s steaming body to his bed and placed her down gently. She had burned beautifully, just like how he knew she would, but he could not be distracted by that right now. She was a betrayer, and that had to be dealt with before he could allow himself to fall for her again.

  He summoned the stewards and barked orders at them to set things in motion. The steward who was in charge of the kon’ayas, Dayatha, took one look at I’mya’s body and her mouth dropped open.

  “What happened?” she said. “How could this…. Does this mean?”

  “Yes,” Nyro confirmed.

  The woman’s mouth tightened. “I will sort everything out,” she said, charging around the room to clear the space for her potions.

  “Brother.”

  Tyomar stood in the middle of his chambers as the flurry was happening around them. He didn’t look happy about their battle, but then neither was Nyro. The king had used his soldiers, who were protected with magic, to shoot magical arrows against the clan. Nyro had been completely unprepared for how sophisticated the king’s use of magic was.

  “How bad was the damage?” he growled.

  “A number of magical arrows hit Yorgynel’s underbelly,” Tyomar said somberly. “The rest are working on him now. There were some who hit Ornendor and Ryndross’ wings, and Sethorn was grazed with ember, but those aren’t as serious.”

  Yorgynel was Zendyor’s dragon. Nyro exhaled heavily. He couldn’t let anything happen to his brother’s dragon because of him. They all knew the risks when they went to battle, but this was different.

  “I’ll come over to assist as soon as I’ve stabilized I’mya,” he said.

  “You don’t need to,” Tyomar said. “We can deal with it.”

  “I want to,” Nyro muttered. “I should be there. You all helped with Sanderyll—we cannot lose any more dragons.”

  Tyomar dipped his head and understanding. He gestured to I’mya. “How did it go?”

  “Exceptionally well,” Nyro said, trying not to sound proud. “We just need to treat her now.”

  “Good,” Tyomar said, smiling. “I never thought you would be the one of us to discover a mate.”

  “I never thought so either,” Nyro remarked. “But… being with her is unlike anything I’ve experienced. I hope it is something we can all experience.”

  “I doubt it,” Tyomar said dryly, looking over I’mya. “I’m still waiting to speak to the Mheyu, but I’m doubtful that we will learn anything new from what we learned last time. If there was something for us to know, we would know it by now.”

  The nearest Mheyu sanctum was on Tyomar’s range, and as such, he had a direct line to the guardians there. They weren’t exactly an enthusiastic associate, but having communications with them meant that the dragorai didn’t have to spend their time scouring through documents and learning history from centuries ago to put into context now.

  “We have time to figure things out,” Nyro said. “I don’t think we should rely on anything right now until we know how I’mya is able to do the things she has done.”

  Tyomar nodded. “I must warn you, Khyros is understandably angry.”

  Nyro nodded. He couldn’t blame him, and he would have to face whatever was coming. It was very likely that Khyros wasn’t the only one.

  “A clan meeting will be called a soon as Yorgynel is stable. Prepare yourself,” Tyomar advised. He glanced at I’mya as he turned toward the window and then jumped out.

  “Pardon me, Mas
ter,” the steward said. “We need to move her to somewhere dark and cool and empty, maybe one of the old rooms in the lair where there are no windows.”

  Yes, that made more sense. Nyro glanced around the room thoughtfully. “Have you located one?”

  “Yes, we just need your permission to move her.”

  “You know the process?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “You manage my kon’ayas,” Nyro said. “What do you know about I’mya?”

  “Only that she is different from the other kon’ayas. Her first day here did not go that well, but we have been able to strike up a friendship since then.”

  “Why not?”

  Dayatha thought back. “She lost her memory. She didn’t remember how she got here or anything about her past life, not even her own name. I cast an incantation to try to heal her mind, and she was so terrified of magic, she ran away from me.”

  Nyro nodded. So that was how she ended up with magic in her face, and why she said she didn’t belong in the lair. He’d never even thought to ask her about that day. “Do you know the process for I’mya?”

  “I do, Master. I have done it many times in the past.”

  “Good. We will stabilize her over the next few days and then I need to see my brothers.”

  “Yes,” Dayatha said. “You are welcome to leave it to me. She will need specialized care for the first few days, and then time to rest.”

  “I will not be restricted access to her,” he said firmly.

  “No, of course not,” she said. “You will be able to see her any time you want.”

  Nyro nodded. “Then let’s move her.”

  The clan meeting was a somber one, not that Nyro expected anything less. He braced himself as he entered the temple. This was not going to be an easy discussion, but he had his mate and as far as he was concerned that was the most important thing about everything that had happened. His brothers had been going on and on about ensuring their clan survived—what could be more beneficial than knowing they could mate?

  All the brothers were there except Khyros, which had to be the first time that had ever happened.

  Nyro dropped into his chair. “How is Yorgynel,” he asked Zendyor.

  “He is recovering well,” Zendyor said, inclining his head. “Not as quick as Sanderyll, but we know San is smaller and more delicate.”

  Nyro shot up in his chair, his eyes flashing at such an offensive suggestion, but then he saw a smirk on Zendyor’s face.

  “It is good to see you passionate about things again, brother,” Zendyor said, a laugh in his voice.

  Nyro relaxed, shooting Zendyor a scathing look while Tyomar laughed.

  “Let’s begin,” Khyros said, marching into the room.

  “What happened to the king?” Nyro asked immediately. The king had somehow escaped their attack, sliding out from underneath them among all the soldiers that he’d had attacking us. It was a coward’s move, but Nyro couldn’t expect anything more from him. Even I’mya stood her ground and took whatever was coming for her. “Where did he go?”

  “Reports are that he fled to one of the other cities,” Sethorn said. “He has many buildings in each city. He’s been in that one now for the last two years, but he could potentially cycle through them so that it would be more difficult to find him.”

  “I want him found!” Nyro demanded. “He levied an attack on my dan askha. He declared war on us.”

  “He has always been a threat to us, brother,” Zendyor said. “He is the one who is in war with the omega queen of the south. He is the one we have been discussing for decades since the war started. You have not been interested.”

  “I understand that,” Nyro said, his annoyance blaring through him. “But I’m interested now.”

  “That doesn’t mean you can dictate what we do next,” Tyomar said. “We have a plan in place to ensure that we can eliminate the threat of war to us. We can’t just move everything now because you are offended.”

  “I am not simply offended,” Nyro bellowed. “He attacked the clan. Before now, neither of them had done this. And whatever plan you have, why hasn’t it been executed? Why have you waited so long? This war has gone on for decades.”

  “We were dealing with this as the four of us, with three dragons!” Sethorn bellowed back. “Where was your support then? Were you and Sanderyll helping to find a way through this? You wanted to stay out of it and eat, fuck, and hunt to your grave. You could have been a significant support for us to get the results we needed, and you refused! You cannot decide now that because you are the one who happened to be targeted that we must all drop everything we are doing to go after the king, unprepared, unplanned, and with no idea what we may face! We did that and look what happened to Yorgynel!”

  Nyro couldn’t argue with him. He had been adamant about his lack of support for the plans, which he’d considered pointless.

  “I understand what you are saying,” he said tightly. “But I did not expect for a lesser-mortal to have the arrogance and the stupidity to attack us—to go such drastic lengths. The king is so insignificant, and so weak, yet he found a way to get through to me through my mate.” He glanced at all his brothers. “There was no way he didn’t know that I’mya was unique. He taught her that magic, knowing she had the capability to use it.”

  “Yes, which makes him dangerous,” Sethorn said.

  “And makes me wonder what else he knows,” Khyros muttered.

  “Why wouldn’t he attack us, Nyro?” Tyomar asked. “You have always said it, brother. In some ways, we are vulnerable. There are only five of us, and we have four dragons between us. It is only a matter of time before our weaknesses are found and we are eliminated. Your decision has been to sit around and wait for that to happen.”

  Nyro looked away, annoyance, anger, and guilt churning in him. Nothing his brothers said was untrue, but he chose to deal with things the way that he chose to deal with them. There was no reason to believe that any of this would happen. “No one could have predicted that I would find my mate,” he said. “That changes things.”

  “We know,” Sethorn said. “And we are glad that you are on board with us now, but we must do things the way we’ve always done them—in agreement with each other as a clan. We cannot run headfirst, no matter how angry you are about it. I have been spending this entire time trying to temper Zendyor’s enthusiasm to attack the king and queen, and the same applies to you. We will find the king and attack him when we are ready.”

  “And to be clear, the queen is just as sneaky and arrogant and bold,” Zendyor added. “It is both of them we must deal with.”

  Nyro looked at each of his brothers like he was seeing them for the first time in a long time. They all knew what they were facing as a clan better than he did, and for the first time, he had to recognize that he had been wrong.

  “We need to know what your mate knows,” Khyros said. “No doubt she was trained by him. She knows him, so she can tell us what he knows.”

  “She is not in a position to do that right now,” Nyro muttered. “She is still suffering from the effects of the fire.”

  Khyros frowned. “It has been a week. She should have healed by now.”

  “She has healed,” Nyro confirmed. “But she is… different.”

  “She has no dan askha,” commented Sethorn. “She is bound to struggle.”

  “Bring her here,” Khyros ordered. “Maybe coming here will help.”

  Nyro nodded in agreement. It had been difficult seeing I’mya the way she’d been lately. Completely limp and unable to respond to him. At first he thought something had gone wrong with the process, but Dayatha had been completely certain her of her methods, and in fact, I’mya had reemerged stronger from the incident. Except it felt like she’d been hollowed out. His fiery, snappy woman had disappeared. And he did not know what to do to bring her back.

  14

  Her prison was dark, and cold, and quiet.

  That suited I’mya just fine. It reflect
ed how she felt inside and out.

  The room was oval, with charcoal-grey rounded walls and a mostly rounded floor, more like a cave than a room. Pillows, sheets, and bedding cushioned the floor, and she lay on them, limp as she attempted to keep her mind as empty as possible.

  Her whole body was bandaged, from her chin all the way down to each of her toes, and moving was painful and restrictive, so she didn’t bother. She already knew her hair had burned away completely—she looked and felt nothing like herself.

  Dayatha came in and out, bringing food, plumping her pillows, and talking to her. I’mya never listened. She blocked everything out. She was surprised to be alive, and that the dragon’s fire hadn’t killed her. Three times a day, Dayatha poured hot, stinky liquid over her body, saturating the bandages, causing a flaring pain beneath them, as if she was burning alive once again.

  It seemed a torturous procedure, but they didn’t question her or make use of the pain she suffered. When Dayatha spoke it was conversational, as if they were having another talk in her office. No one questioned her, and yet they tortured her multiple times a day. It didn’t make sense to her, but maybe this was simply her punishment. Regardless, she would endure whatever she had to endure—it was unlikely she would be alive much longer. She had been fooled by the king into causing both her sister’s death and then attacking the most lethal beings in the Twin Realms. She’d betrayed the other kon’ayas, especially Elora, who’d tried so hard to help her fit in.

  Now she was the prisoner of a man who was willing to hurt her, as he always had. He’d literally burned her alive and then found a way for her to survive so he could punish her again. She wouldn’t last long, and she accepted it. Sometimes memories of I’yala or her time blissfully knotted with Nyro would skip into her mind, but she pushed them away. She didn’t want happy memories—she didn’t want any memories. She just wanted nothingness until the end came.

  She lost track of time in the room, but it seemed as though Dayatha was entering every few hours to do something; poke and prod her body, check her joints, examine the inside of her mouth, stretch her eyes open to check her eyeballs… It was a constant examination. She also fed her, starting with soups and liquids, and then moving up to more solid foods. I’mya ate dutifully and didn’t say a word.