by Anna Carven
Please be safe.
Fear for them consumes my waking moments, but when I sleep, euphoria is never far away, because sometimes I find him in my dreams.
He comes to me during brief snatches of his own sleep, when he’s so utterly exhausted he can barely put one foot in front of another.
At first, he’s high in the mountains, and then he’s on the bleak, gravelly plains of the Kalabar. I see him in the leafless winter forest, then in the lower parts of the Komori, where the tree trunks are all blackened, having been burned by the Midrians.
Curse them all for their mindless violence.
I find him beside streams and deep underground in the terrifying cavernous place we travelled through together when we first escaped from the capital; the place he calls Talamurana.
It was confusing at first, trying to understand what he was doing, where he was going, but then he explained it to me that precise, succinct way of his, and I started to picture it in my mind.
Between those brief periods of sleep, he freezes time and runs across the continent, crossing plains and frozen streams, trudging through snow and the bitter cold, climbing up mountains and descending precarious cliffs.
He’s relentless.
Nobody and nothing can stop him now.
I can just imagine him in my mind’s eye; a pale, intimidating, solitary figure running through the still, silent world, which crawls along at less than a snail’s pace.
To our ordinary mortal awareness, he’s just an imperceptible blur, moving faster than the eye can see.
He stops the world just to get to me.
But when he starts to fall asleep, the world moves forward again. The sun and the moon dance in lockstep, and he dreams.
That’s where I find him.
He’s always filled with terrible cold anger when I first see him, but somehow, I manage to calm him down with my invisible presence.
And when he finally softens; when he realizes that it’s me who’s holding him and nobody else; when he realizes that the demons of the outside world can’t threaten us in our dreams, he becomes most deliciously warm and growly, like a big, sleek mountain cat that’s in a playful mood.
His anger never really goes away—I can feel it thrumming deep within his powerful body—but he suppresses it for me, murmuring sweet things in that deep, rumbling, toe-curling voice of his, telling me of all the wickedly naughty things he’s going to do to me when he has me in his clutches again.
“Your body has been through so much,” I tell him admiringly on one occasion, when I find him leaning against the wide trunk of an ancient bluewood tree. I marvel at his flawless alabaster skin, which has become imbued with the most subtle hint of a shimmer, reminding me of snow in the sunlight. The terrible wound on his cheek has healed, and Vyloren’s corrosive magic is no longer. He feels cool to the touch. I let out a deep sigh of relief. “You’ve been through so many changes… but this is your true form, isn’t it?”
He frowns in consternation, in irritation, his brow creasing in the most adorable way. “As usual, His Infinite Cryptic Darkness doesn’t ever really explain much,” he snorts. “I suppose I have shed the last of my human pigment, then. I must look slightly monstrous.”
“Not monstrous,” I murmur in his ear, enjoying the way he becomes tense and aroused as I run my ghostly hands over his powerful arms. I explore his hands in wonder, fascinated by the perfectly obsidian skin on his palms and fingers and his pure black, slightly clawlike nails; the way the inky skin of his wrists bleeds into the empty scales of his serpent tattoos, making them complete. “Never that. I can’t wait to see you in the flesh again, Kaim. I’m just counting down the days until you take me away from these idiots.”
“If I didn’t need to rest now and then, I would be there already,” he rumbles, “but unfortunately, I’m not omnipotent in this world. How close are you to the capital?”
“I don’t know for sure. They transferred me to a riverboat. I think we’re on the big river that goes into Daimara.”
“The Syal.”
“Yes, that one. They’re taking me straight to this so-called emperor Krogen. I think he wants to stage some sort of execution. A public ceremony to mark the beginning of his reign, or something like that. It all sounds very theatrical.” I let out a disdainful snort. “They’ve always been pompous asses. Runs in the family.”
For a moment, he goes very, very quiet. The anger he radiates is cold and terrifying. “Who is responsible for your suffering, Amali? Give me a name.”
I hesitate, knowing without a doubt that any name I utter will be a death sentence for that person.
“I need to know, Amali,” Kaim insists. “Something like this… I can’t let it go.”
I know. “It’s Commander Trise,” I say simply, after thinking long and hard. Not because Trise tortured me, but because he killed Iyen.
I could have them all killed, but the other soldiers and sailors… they’re just following orders. People aren’t just good or bad. They’re all shades of grey, and some of them have families; loved ones.
I would not wish for so much death on my account.
I’m still alive, after all.
“Thank you,” Kaim whispers, his deep, delicious voice wrapping around me, drawing me deeper into his spell, in which I’m already hopelessly drowning. “I will make this right. I swear to you.”
Oh, Kaim. Even when he’s terrifying, he’s so sweet.
“I think you’re only days away from the capital now,” Kaim growls, his aura becoming cold and dangerous. “So am I. We will meet soon, Amali, I promise. I’m not going to let that man take your life.”
I slide into his lap, curling my arms around his neck, savoring his heady presence. “Even if he does, I would simply depart this world and go into your… father’s kingdom. That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?”
“No,” Kaim snaps, searching for me with his hands. “Do you so easily forget what you learned when I first took you away from the palace? This life—your life—is precious. There is only one.” He closes his eyes and leans back against the tree, letting out a deep, weary sigh. “I do not take anything for granted anymore, Amali. Not even time. Every moment I have with you is precious, whether it’s on this earth or beyond the veil.” His eyes snap open then, drawing me into their infinite star-pricked darkness. His intensity burns through me like molten lava. “Besides, I still have to give you our children.”
Children! Once again, he surprises me.
I swoon.
Even now, when we’re suffering and apart, he plans our future life together.
My emotions spill over, and I weep silent tears in my dreams. To think there was a time when I never thought I would have children, because no man would dare bed me.
Now, to think of having his…
Before I can say a word, Kaim stirs. “I think I’ll wake now, Amali. You’re torturing me far too much, and if I don’t get moving soon, I fear I’ll want to stay here in my dreams with you forever.”
I become highly aware of the insistent bulge of his cock.
Almighty gods, this man…
“You’d better not dawdle,” I murmur, gently teasing him. “Because for every day that you’re late, I’ll make you beg for my favor a thousand times over.”
“That won’t happen,” he replies, staring right through me at the dark, misty forest beyond. “I won’t be late, and I never beg. That will be you, when I’m just about to make you climax so hard that you won’t know any other man’s name but mine.”
Sweet Celise, you devious man. For a moment, I’m unable to speak. He has this way of saying the most startling things sometimes.
Warmth blossoms in my chest. Make me beg? That’s already how it is, my sweet man. Out loud, I chuckle. “Don’t get too cocky, Kaimeniel. Just because you’ve discovered you’re a demigod all of a sudden, it doesn’t mean you can do whatever you—”
“I want to fuck you so badly,” he growls, sending a jolt of pure desire through
me.
“Oh gods, Kaim…” I reach out to him, but I can’t touch him anymore. I can only go through him.
He’s fading.
He’s waking up…
And the world’s going to freeze over again.
To the hells with Krogen and Trise and their Midrian arrogance, thinking they’re the only worthy beings upon this earth.
Thinking they can trample over me and my people.
When I’m here with Kaim, they can’t touch me.
In my mind, in my heart, they can’t fucking touch me.
They can’t do a thing.
“Just you wait, Amali,” he whispers, his tone deliciously dark and dangerous. “Wait for me. Everything’s going to be all right. I promise.”
Thirty-Two
Kaim
At last, I reach the wide, dusty road they call the Imperial Highway. There’s only one, stretching from the southern port of Lygol up to Daimara, then extending all the way up to the Komori Forest in the north.
I run along frost-covered muddy tracks, passing traders’ horsecarts and lone travelers on foot and the occasional small platoon of soldiers trudging through the mud. Several times, I come across a large military convoy, with many soldiers on horseback and big war-cannons being drawn by horsecart. Alongside the big war horses, battalions of poor infantry bastards make their way on foot, their expressions drawn and miserable.
I pass them all; a silent ghost in the night.
From now until after I’ve rescued Amali, there will be no more rest. By my calculations, it’s been several half-moons since I started my trek from the Black Mountain. With all the rest stops I’ve taken, with the way time trickles past even when I’m holding it at bay—and it seems to move slightly faster whenever I’m tired—I’d estimate that days have passed in Amali’s world.
I don’t think I could sleep anymore anyway, no matter how hard I tried. Ever since her last visit in my dreams, lust has been burning through me like wildfire.
I can’t stop thinking about her.
She consumes me entirely.
I’m utterly obsessed. It’s probably unhealthy, but I don’t care.
And the Midrian fools who keep her locked up; those who hate her with such passion just because she is something they do not understand…
Well, they really don’t understand a thing, do they?
In my world, things are going to be different.
I’ve had enough.
Some of them are going to die, very soon.
And the rest of the fucking Midrian Empire will bow to my will.
See, my father has finally unlocked my power, and I fully intend to use it.
Thirty-Three
Amali
All of a sudden, the boat comes to a stop. Men shout above decks. Heavy footsteps pound above me. Shrill whistles penetrate the cold wooden walls.
And after days of sitting in that cloying, stinking cabin, they finally come for me.
Voices reverberate down the passageway.
A key rattles in the lock.
The door bangs open.
“Get up, woman. Time to go. Elar’s teeth, you stink like shit. We’ll give you a bloody wash on the way out.”
I rise unsteadily to my feet, glaring at my captors with hatred even though I’m secretly excited at the prospect of a bath.
They march me out into the cold hall, down narrow passageways, up a creaking ladder and onto the decks, where the bright sunlight floods my vision, momentarily blinding me.
I stumble forward, propelled along by a heavy hand at my back. Suddenly, hands are all over me, holding me back as they tearing the rough cloth shirt from my body.
Splash!
I gasp as freezing water cascades over me, numbing the welts on my back.
Some asshole has snuck up from behind and doused me. Bastard! The rough-looking, bearded boatmen laugh as I wrap my arms around my naked torso, trying to ward off the cold.
They’ve cut the shirt from my body.
My breasts are exposed.
Thank Celise I still have my trousers on.
Goosebumps dance across my skin.
I start to shiver, my teeth chattering loudly.
Heavy boots thud on the wooden deck behind me, and someone throws a rough blanket over my back. “That’s enough now, lads. You’ve had your fun. Get her down into the fucking carriage. Krogen’s waiting, and he’ll all have our heads on a stake by next morning if she arrives at the palace a moment too late.” Perhaps—perhaps—there’s just a hint of pity in this man’s voice, or maybe I’m just imagining things.
I brush my sopping wet hair away from my face and glare at all of them. You’re all fools. I can’t even imagine what Kaim would do to you right now if he saw this. Even I feel uneasy at the thought, because I don’t truly know what he’s capable of, especially now.
At the same time, a wicked thrill of anticipation courses through me.
He’s coming.
I keep glaring at them.
Several of the Midrians avert their eyes.
“Yes, Sir,” a man with a thick golden beard and long hair mutters. He was the ringleader of that cruel little stunt, wasn’t he?
I wrap the blanket around myself as they lead me across the decks and down the gangplank, grateful for the common sense of that gruff old man.
At least they leave my hands unrestrained this time. They must think I’m so weak and broken that I can’t possibly put up any sort of fight.
It’s true. After spending almost an entire moon at sea, I’m a little worse for wear. I feel tired and sickly, and my back aches something awful.
I’m sure I look terrible.
When Kaim sees me, he’s going to go crazy.
That’s why I don’t even have the energy to be angry with these Midrians right now.
I look around. We’re in some sort of busy river dock, where various river vessels are anchored against a stone wharf. Horse-drawn carts of traders lumber past, laden with various goods; colorful silks, sacks of grain, ornate furniture, even woven reed baskets containing live chickens.
It’s only early morning, but already the noise of the dock is already deafening.
We must be in Daimara already. No other place in the empire is this chaotic.
People stream past; soldiers, traders, even dung-pushers. Some of them are gaunt-faced and hollow-cheeked, their eyes hard and suspicious.
Several people stop to stare at me as I walk barefoot across the muddy ground, until a group of soldiers appears from behind.
“Move along, or you’ll be spending more than a bloody night in the watch-house.” The soldiers raise their black clubs threateningly.
“Kill the witch,” a portly trader with florid red cheeks yells, his face turning even redder as he raises his voice. “Kill that fucking Tieglander bitch.”
I look up, meeting the man’s rabid grey eyes.
I give him my sweetest smile.
Looking spooked, he falls quiet.
“She’s mad!” another onlooker exclaims.
Behind me, one of the soldiers lifts the blanket that rests on my shoulders and drops it over my face, hiding my Mark.
“They’ll be seeing you soon enough,” he says sarcastically as they bundle me into a waiting horse-drawn carriage.
To my disappointment, that bastard Trise is sitting up the front with the driver. He looks me up and down, his eyes cold and disdainful. “You don’t look like much, Tieglander. You certainly don’t look like one who could kill an emperor, but then again, desperation can make people do extraordinary things. Don’t try and put up a fight, darling. You’ll just end up prolonging the humiliation.”
I glare at him. I don’t even know what Kaim’s going to do to you when he finds out what you’ve done to me.
The thought alone gives me strength.
My legs threaten to give way as I pull myself up the steps, but somehow, I manage to make my way inside the small wooden cabin.
The door slams shut behind m
e. I look out the window, which is lined with thick metal bars.
So I’m in a prisoner transport, then. I suppose being notorious has its perks.
“Get her out of here,” a man shouts. “We’re bloody behind schedule it is. Clear the roads ahead.”
“Yes, Sir!”
A whip cracks. With a creak, the cart starts to lumber forward.
Outside, people stare through the window, trying to get a glimpse of me. A dirty-faced street urchin runs alongside, hurling stones at the wheels. He raises his middle finger.
I make a face and stick my tongue out at the kid.
He stops dead in his tracks, confused.
The boy retreats, looking spooked.
I’m locked behind bars, weak and defenseless, but they’re still afraid of me.
I laugh.
It’s all I can do right now.
Even though fear snakes its way into the pit of my belly, even though I’m dreading going back to the same place where the Midrians tortured and enslaved me, I can still laugh.
It’s because I meet Kaim in my dreams.
He’s coming for me.
I can’t wait.
Thirty-Four
Amali
The horse cart lumbers and lurches as we roll through the streets, and hostile Midrian faces stare back at me from the bustling city.
If I weren’t being dragged to my potential death, I would find the city fascinating. The streets are crowded. Everyone seems to be out today; men, women, children, nobles in their gilded carriages, soldiers on horseback, serving maids in their distinctive blue calico dresses, hems dragging in the dirty snow.
Some are carrying small flags and pennants bearing the symbol of the black dragon in front the golden sun.
It’s the same flag they were flying on the ship.
A chant starts up from somewhere deep in the crowded alleys, growing louder and louder.
“Death to the witch!”
“Death to the bitch!”
“Tieglander filth. You don’t belong in our land. We’ll put you all to the sword!”
