Leaving his back exposed!
Luthar sees it too, and a distant light of hope flares in his dark eyes. From beneath his cloak he pulls a long, dark blade and slinks towards the emperor.
Trithar, unaware of the danger, continues speaking with Trish. She doesn’t notice the approaching warrior either.
Luthar lunges at Trithar’s back, pointing his sword arm straight out in order to push the blade deep.
There is no time to cry out a warning.
A great roar, like a wave crashing on the beach, shatters my eardrums and rolls down my arms, lashing out into the room with violent claws. Luthar’s sword flies from his hands, turns, and stops in mid-air. He screams – too late – and impales himself, through the head, on his own weapon. Blood – red and thick – splatters the ground.
Trithar turns around slowly.
Luthar remains standing, held in place by my power, a sword where his face should be.
My arms tire. The pulse fades.
Luthar falls.
His blood flows in a thin, red line between Trithar and I. We look at one another.
The dawning truth strikes me sharper than a blade.
I killed a man – to protect him!
Trithar smiles.
He knew, I realize. He knew Luthar would attack him. He wanted to know if I would stop him.
Trithar holds out his hand.
And, in this moment, I have a choice.
I can cross that red line between us and take his hand, accepting who I am and embracing it. Or – I can turn away and return to a world that will never understand or accept me because of what I am.
“She doesn’t belong in any world but ours . . . They will destroy her for what she is.”
I can return with Shade. I can choose to hide what I am.
But can I force myself to hide the abilities that long to be unleashed? Can I ignore the fact that I am an heir to the blood-line throne of Ebonia? That I am, in fact, a step away from ruling? A step away from having the chance to change all the mistakes and fix all the wrongs?
I am not a Kelban.
I am not an Ebonian.
I am someone for whom there is no place in this world.
But I can make a different world.
I have a chance.
I have a choice.
“We want peace. We want respect. We want justice. But you, of all people, know that world is nothing but a dream, don’t you, Kyla?” Trish’s words.
“I want a world where justice is served.” Shade’s words.
“I want a world where peace abounds.” My words.
We all can have our dreams, can’t we?
But what if it didn’t have to be a dream? What if I could make that dream a reality?
I make my choice.
I take Trithar’s hand.
Chapter XLIII
I know I should return to my rooms, and check up on Shade, but I can’t bring myself to head in that direction. Maybe it makes me a coward. Maybe it makes me pathetic and weak and frightened. But every time I turn down that long hallway and stare at the door, guarded by two, armored Ebonians, my stomach twists.
A dark shadow paces behind the door.
You should go to him, that little voice inside of me whispers.
And tell him what?
Shaking my head against the hammer pounding inside, I walk in the opposite direction – towards the library which Trithar so kindly guided me. Perhaps he knows me better than most absent fathers usually knew their estranged children.
Once the library door closes behind me, I close my eyes and lean against one of the shelves, letting the moments, scenes, and scenarios of the past few days play across my mind. All the questions that have haunted me for a lifetime are finally answered. Even the questions that I had not deigned to ask.
A great weight no longer burdens my chest.
And my identity . . .
Ebonian. Heir to a throne. Heir to an empire.
An empire of killers.
That burden grows a little heavier.
I shove it away.
“Open your eyes and look for the truth behind what you’ve been told about us.”
The stories about the Wilds had been lies. The stories about this place – this place to which half of me belongs – could very well be lies as well.
But Axle. Mama Opal. River. Otis. And Shade . . .
The thought of them brings tears to my eyes. I take deep steady breaths but it does nothing to quell the emotions rising within my throat, threatening to break free. I clamp two hands over my mouth and sink to my knees. I shouldn’t be crying. I shouldn’t be hiding. I shouldn’t be feeling like I’m about to drown.
Slowly, slowly, I push the tears – the screams – the pain – back.
I made my choice. I chose to let go of the past. Of Kelba. Of the Wilds. If I don’t let go I will never move on. I will never see what I can become. I will never see what I am meant to be – and I know I’m meant to be something. Deep down, I’ve always known.
The realization fills me with a new hope – a new feeling of empowerment and confidence that I haven’t felt in a long time. The same feeling that flowed through me when I defied a ruler. When I defied the Burnt Forest. When I defied any sort of barrier that attempted to cage me.
I cannot spend my life in fear any longer.
I will let go – even if it means letting go of him.
The idea threatens to deflate the energy pulsing inside of me, but I push it from my thoughts.
I have a purpose. As an heir of this deadly empire I have a power that most people do not possess. The power to change things. The power to make a difference. The power to tell all those other powers that threaten to frighten and degrade me to go to hell.
I open my eyes, staring at the hundreds of books shrouded in the faded light of dusk, and smile.
I don’t have to run anymore.
I don’t know how long I remain on my knees, but the library is dark except for the fire burning loyally, when the door creaks open and a dark figure steps inside. He searches the perimeter of the room before his eyes finally meet mine. He gently closes the door and bows.
“I’m to escort you to your room,” Roke explains, his deep voice no longer raspy to my ears. A trick. To frighten other races, perhaps?
I don’t move.
He sees the expression on my face. “You’re staying.” It’s not a question.
“That bother you?”
“No,” he says, a little too quickly. “No. Just creates . . . tension, that’s all.”
I don’t have to inquire about the meaning of his last sentence. We both know who waits impatiently in my room.
“What will happen to him?”
“The boy is responsible for the deaths of a hundred soldiers, several captains, a Darthan on the court of your father, not to mention many others that we don’t have on file; guards, spies, slavers, and simple hunters.” Roke lists of the casualties, name by name by name, as if he’s studied Shade’s violent history for years. He notices my surprise and adds, “All Ebonian soldiers in a high position like mine are required to know and assess threats against our ranks. But even the common Ebonian housemaids know that your lover is a great danger to anyone roaming outside our borders.”
“What will happen to him?” I repeat firmly.
Roke’s shoulders tense but, to his credit, he still has the balls to ask, “If you were in my place, my lady, what do you think would happen to him?”
“He would be executed.”
Roke nods and that’s confirmation enough. They’re going to kill Shade.
“The idea doesn’t sit well with you, does it?”
I glare at him, making words unnecessary.
After a couple moments of silence, I whisper, “When?”
“Tomorrow.”
I gasp. “So soon.”
“‘The sooner the better,’ one of my men said to me.”
I don’t miss the sudden softness in his voice
and tilt my head in his direction. “But you don’t think so?”
He shrugs. “He’s killed Captain Lavon, a prestigious member of our ranks, and a very great loss for Ebonia. That makes his existence intolerable to a great many fellow Ebonians.”
“I killed Grag. What does that make me?”
“T-that . . . that’s different. Grag was a traitor. You were within your rights to kill him.”
“Lavon was under Grag’s command and met his death while hunting for me so Grag could kill me. I would call that conspiracy to murder and a good enough reason for execution, wouldn’t you?” I stand up, no longer willing to look up at the Ebonian when I could look him in the eye. “So, if we’re being honest, Shade did you all a favor by saving my life. If it weren’t for him, I’d be dead.”
Roke grimaces. “That doesn’t excuse the countless others he’s butchered.”
“The countless others involved in attacking peaceful villages like Agron and innocent civilians? Yes, I could see how devastating their loss must be to your army, but they knew the consequences when they chose to act so foolishly. Or perhaps they thought it would be easy – conquering another race.”
“We don’t want to conquer anything,” Roke snaps, his calm demeanor disappearing. “The Ilkanari will find our borders eventually if we don’t keep them at bay. They will discover the towns, the cities, the people we fight to protect. I, and my kindred fighters, are willing to bare the stories that paint us as nightmares if only for the chance to see our loved ones live one more day in safety and happiness. It’s a shitty existence, I agree. This empire has gone to hell. Pretend to be a nightmare and, sometimes, you become that nightmare. Honestly, I regret the loss of life on both sides. I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I wish . . .” He stops, realizing he’s said to much to someone like me.
“Go on,” I prod. “What do you wish for?”
He doesn’t say anything, continuing to stare at me from behind his ebony mask.
“What do you wish for?” I repeat, slowly, taking a step towards him with each word. Until we’re standing so close I could put out my hand and touch the emblem on the breastplate beneath his cloak.
“I want an empire where peace exists. Where peace isn’t just a word that we say, but a word that we feel. That we know. That we love. This empire . . . it doesn’t know the value of such things anymore. If it did, I would fight – fight with everything I have – for it. I swear by all the damned gods and the ancestors.” Beneath that mask, I think I see the glint of tears.
“Then you’re in luck,” I whisper, stepping close, so I can whisper in his ear. “You and I share the same dream.”
He doesn’t say a word as I pull back. As I smile at him. As I gently rest my hand on his shoulder and make him look me in the eye. “But so does the boy who’s made himself a monster to protect what he loves.” Even if what he loved died years ago at the hands of men like Roke.
I step back, leaving Roke to ponder my words and stare at the fire, crackling with brilliant sparks.
The soldier sighs. “What do you want from me?”
“His life.”
“Is he worth it?” Roke holds up a passive hand when anger crosses my face. “I only mean what do you plan on doing, my lady? Do you really think that he will remain by your side when he learns what you are?” He pauses, allowing the words to sink in. “Do not misunderstand me? I know what you must feel for him. But when he learns what you are will he share those same feelings? Or will he take that blade of his and run you through, avenging his past? Think, my lady! Think about this Ilkanari warrior – will he stay or will he kill?”
“I would destroy every last shadow, I would raid their land, I would slaughter the monsters . . .”
He would kill.
I steel myself against the pulsing ache in my chest and meet Roke’s gaze. “His life. Just his life is all I ask of you.”
Roke stares at me, as if he’s seeing me for the first time, and shakes his head. “It’s a waste, Excellency, if you ask me. His life, I mean.”
“You don’t know that.”
He sighs, glancing around the room, as if he’s afraid the books are documenting our every word. “An hour is all I can give you, my lady. Make good use of it.”
“I will.”
He turns to go.
“Thank you.
He pauses, hand on the knob, and turns around. The glitter of tears are still in his eyes. “There is no need to thank me, Kyla. I owe you a debt that I was afraid I would never be able to repay.”
“You owe me a debt?” I try to remember every moment with the strange Ebonian but can think of nothing remotely responsible for the favor he has offered me.
“Grag murdered my brother in cold blood. I owe you for killing him. My brother was one of the bravest young soldiers ever to enter the ranks. He had passion. Brains. And a dutiful, loyal spirit that inspired those around him. Grag blew him to oblivion because he questioned him. All because he dared to say what everyone already suspected – that Grag was a traitor.”
Holy gods! Holy gods! My lungs feel too tight in my chest. My vision – the one in which Grag shattered a fellow soldier for asking if he’d switched sides – I watched it. I watched Grag slaughter Roke’s brother.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t have done something,” I whisper.
Roke shakes his head. “He died bravely. That’s all that matters, I guess. In the end, he won’t be remembered for it. Another name written on the wall – another number to remove from the books.”
“I’ll remember him,” I say fiercely.
Roke tilts his chin in the opposite direction, hiding his face from view. His hand trembles on the knob.
“What was his name?”
“Rev.”
I repeat the name, committing it to memory, before saying, “I’ll make sure everyone knows. Everyone will know that he died bravely.”
“Thank you,” Roke whispers, his voice breaking. He quickly exits the room, shutting the door securely behind him.
I glance around the room, blinking tears from my own eyes.
No, not all Ebonians are demons.
The stories about my people aren’t true.
I have an hour to save the one boy who may never understand that truth. Frantically, I search the corner of the library that contains articulately designed maps until I find what I’m looking for. Squaring my shoulders, I head down the hall, no longer afraid of my future.
No longer afraid of anything.
I stand in front of the door, watching that black shadow move across the bottom of it with furious movement, and try to steel myself for the scene I am about to play – the act I must uphold. Only for one more hour. One more hour I must be the strange Kelban girl with a mark on her shoulder and no place in the world. I accept that commitment and step inside the room, allowing the two guards outside to pull it close behind me.
Despite my resolution, it still hurts like hell when strong arms envelop me in a comforting hold and the smell of smoke and pine needles tickles my nose. And, as hard as I try to hold them back, tears trickle down my cheeks.
“Gods be praised. Gods be praised,” Shade whispers, more to himself, than me. His hand gently cups the back of my head. “Are you alright? Kyla?” He pulls back, lifting my chin with gentle fingers, despite the tremors of loose control evident on his face – his body. A body bruised and beaten for what, I promise, will be the last time. My eyes meet his and a whole new cascade of tears and feelings burst out of me. I wrap my arms around his neck, forcing him to hold me, to not look at my face as I weave lies between us once again.
“They took me to a room. It was so . . . so dark.”
Shade trembles beneath me. “What did they do to you?” His voice is deadly quiet, raising hairs along the back of my spine.
“N-nothing. They asked me questions, but one of them . . . one of them tried to kill . . . tried to kill . . .” I don’t finish the sentence, leaving Shade to fill in the blanks with his own idea of
what must have occurred. “They didn’t want me dead yet so they . . . they sent me back. Said they’d continue when I was more inclined to t-talk.”
“They didn’t hurt you?” I can sense the struggle in him as he tries to discern whether I’m lying to him – lying to protect him from what he thinks they must have done to me. “Tell me, Kyla. Tell me what happened. What they did to you. Don’t lie to me.”
Those last four words break me completely, and I let out my first sob. In an hour he’ll be gone. In an hour he’ll no longer be in my arms.
In an hour he’ll hate me.
Gods, I can’t do this.
But I have to.
I won’t let them take his life when he hasn’t even had the chance to decide who he wants to be or what he wants to become. When he hasn’t had the chance to live a life for himself.
At least, even if it tears me apart, I can give him that chance.
I can give him that choice.
He deserves it.
“It’s alright, Kyla. It’s alright,” he whispers softly, cradling me, protecting me, in his arms. I shed tears for his gentleness – a part of him that he wasn’t afraid to show me and would become a part, within an hour’s time, that he would never show me again.
Frantically, I look at the clock. Forty minutes remain. Forty minutes to get him to safety. Forty minutes to save his life.
I pull away from him, despite craving his touch, his warmth for a few more minutes.
“We have to get out of here tonight. Before they come and . . .” I don’t finish, opting to grab his arm instead. He flinches at the touch – the urgency within it.
That glitter – the thrill of life – that I’ve missed in his eyes, reappears. “Don’t be afraid, Kyla. It doesn’t become you. I’m not going to let them touch you. Hear me? They’re never going to touch you again.” He palms my face. “Don’t be frightened. Please.”
He doesn’t know who I’m really frightened for.
“While you were gone, I came up with an idea. There’s only two guards outside. I can easily take care of that. But finding a way out of this palace is going to be . . .”
I gently place a hand over his mouth and pull up the hem of my shirt. The map I took from the library is tucked into the waistband of my pants. I hand it to him. “Will this help?”
Ostracized (The Ostracized Saga Book 1) Page 64
