Between Imminent Fates (The Immortal Accords #12)

37. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Derikles

Though the problems continued to mount, answers weren’t forthcoming. Everything about the night of the battle was speculation. The survivors sat around in a town hall, attempting to piece together a puzzle that’d been broken, burned up, and put through a grinder.

If they never discovered the truth, it’d kill a part of Derikles. A part that he desperately wanted to save.

As talks of immortal social reform petered out Zeke’s attention turned to Nero. “When were you going to tell us you were a Lock?”

The Hawaiian sovereign looked Zeke dead in the eye when he said, “Never.”

“Why did you Lock me on the battlefield?”

Neither of the centuries old Raeths rose in confrontation. Derikles remained ready, the antagonism enough to make him primed for violence. Nero remained calm, and he would’ve applauded the other man had it not be in direct contrast to Zeke.

“Key had instructed me to prior to the battle,” Nero said. “She was adamant. I trusted her.”

“If you ever Lock me again, friend , I’ll kill you.”

At the threat, Nero simply nodded. “Understood.”

Moreso that ever before, Derikles found himself admiring the Osé sovereign’s poise. If Derikles was to maintain his position, he’d need an ally—and a mentor to truly benefit his people. Nero had just risen to the top of the list.

“Can we actually discuss Rayn now?”

Derikles’ attention shifted back to where Rukia sat beside him. Her voice was frighteningly hollow, so unusual for a woman of her fierce spirit.

“Why did Rayn want to kill Isaiah?”

“We haven’t interrogated him yet,” came Nero’s gentle reply. “It’s been … low on our list of priorities.”

And it had been. Derikles hadn’t even remembered the traitorous Raeth existed until they’d brought him up at the meeting, but his blood boiled at the mention. He thought back to the field of battle, remembering how Rayn had attempted to assassinate Isaiah as he saved their species.

“I volunteer,” Derikles spat, the edge of his voice sharp enough to cut bricks. “I’m more than happy to interrogate him myself.”

Nero shook his head. “We need someone who’s capable of being objective towards him—and doesn’t want to kill him—not the new sovereign of Isaiah’s clan.” His head gave a jerk, his lips tightening. “Your clan. Apologies.”

Derikles felt the exact moment in the attention of the room shifted to him. The questions followed almost immediately.

“How did that happen, Derikles?” Kaien asked. “How are you now the sovereign of a clan you never challenged for?”

“We believe Isaiah was searching for a way to shift the sovereignty,” he replied. “Apparently, he found it.”

A quick survey of the room found that the vampires, werewolves, and Elementals looked at him with something akin to begrudging acceptance. The Raeths wore looks of bewilderment, pity, or scrutiny.

All except one. The pink haired one.

She studied him openly as though she was trying to figure him out. He allowed his gaze to linger on her slightly longer than was socially acceptable in turn.

There was killer seduction in her curves and fire in her gaze. Purple lipstick stained pouty, plump lips, and a row of piercings glinted in her ears. Fishnet stockings covered her shapely legs until they met calf-high biker boots. From the moment she’d arrived, she had watched everyone with a hawk’s keenness. Nothing escaped her notice. Even more impressive was that when she spoke about the issues of their race, she did it with class and determination.

She intrigued him.

And then Nero ruined his moment of fascination. “He’s been given a bottle of water and several RTE meals every day, but no expense was afforded for his comfort. We need to interrogate him and figure out what he knows and why he partnered with the Citizens . I won’t have that scum on my island any longer than I have to.”

Derikles leaned back in his chair. “Set the day. If my involvement is frowned upon, I’ll audit.”

Nero nodded.

“Have Isaiah or Key shown any improvement?” Zeke asked.

When Derikles spoke, the word was poison on his tongue. “None.”

There was no change in Zeke, but Derikles couldn’t help but notice the fatigue that plagued the other man. He was barely holding on.

“Key has made no progress either. We are—” Nero’s features pinched, “—I am not hopeful.”

The women beside him—Eden and Zia—both displayed signs of distress. It’d been three weeks, and they’d had little time to focus on anything else, but there would be benefit in aligning on treatments. What worked and what didn’t, though it seemed like everything was falling in the latter category.

Derikles extended the initiative to Zeke and Nero. “If Isaiah sees any improvement from treatments we attempt, I’ll inform you.”

“That’s why Celeste is here,” Zeke said. “You can speak with her.”

When his mouth opened to confirm the assignment, Nero spoke first. “Thank you, Derikles. You can let me know if you have any signs of improvement, and I’ll attempt the same with Key.”

“Cheers.”

The soft sound of footsteps greeted their ears. Derikles recognized Tyee from the time he’d spoken at Gideon’s funeral. The man’s words had stuck with him, and he never forgot a face.

The water Elemental drew gracefully to a stop just outside their ring of chairs, and to Derikles’ shock, looked directly at him. “Derikles, I have something for you.”

But he made no move to rise. “What is it?”

“Instructions,” was the woefully brief response.

“About what?”

“About your situation,” Tyee replied evenly. “Isaiah asked that I refrain from giving this to you immediately. He recommended I wait several weeks until things had calmed, and you were more stable. It’s best viewed alone at first, Derikles. Then, once you’ve watched his message, you can make the decision as to whether or not to share it.”

An uneasy feeling hollowed Derikles’ gut. Beside him, Rukia had stiffened.

The Elemental handed him the small USB drive. As he carefully clutched the prize in his hand, Derikles’ gazed at him with narrowed eyes.

“When did he give you this?”

“A month ago.”

Before Derikles knew what his sovereign was planning, but after the man had attempted his psychic test on the clan’s network.

It was Gideon’s incredulous voice that pulled him back from the brink. “You knew something would happen a month ago ?”

The hint of viciousness in the Elemental monarch’s voice was something Derikles had never previously heard. Seeing the living saint splintered just like everyone else gave him hope that one day, Derikles would be able to mend his own wounds.

“I did, but not to the extent it played out.” Tyee faced his friend with a neutral expression, as if Gideon’s reaction hadn’t surprised him. “Key’s methods may not make sense, Gideon, but they work—as should be apparent by now.”

It was a dismissal if he’d ever seen one. Tyee’s attention returned to Derikles before he gave a simple command: “Watch it.”

Agonizing over what the USB contained, he said, “Gideon, I need a laptop.”

“You can use my office.”

Derikles shadowed the Elemental down a long hall. The last office was undoubtedly Gideon’s, based on the verdant jungle of plants inside it. Derikles almost didn’t notice the way the greenery reached for the Elemental as he opened his laptop and keyed in a password to unlock it.

“Stay in here as long as you need.”

After a nod, Gideon closed the door behind him.

Allowing himself a steadying breath, he plugged in the USB. As he hit play, he held himself still. His breathing evened out. His shoulders relaxed. His focus became absolute.

Isaiah’s eyes were weary, but sharp. Seeing his closest friend awake and aware was jolting. For a moment, Derikles’ skin grew hot, and he had the urge to sob.

“Please forgive me, Derikles. It’s never been my intention to unfairly hoist responsibility on your shoulders, but I did it anyway. Too many in our clan would have been harmed by the catastrophic loss of a sovereign. I would never take that risk.”

Tilting his head slightly, Isaiah continued.

“ You know I’ve been searching for something, and you’ve most likely guessed by now what it was. While I won’t go into details about what Nina and I will attempt to do, the second piece of the puzzle is far more important to you now.”

Derikles allowed himself to breathe.

“I know that a sovereign’s life was never one you desired; you’ve been explicit in that regard. But you’ve proven yourself strong and resilient, and I trust you to see to the good of the clan.

“I don’t believe anyone is more capable of leading them than you, Derikles. Your desire to remain out of the spotlight, never chasing power for power’s sake, shows just how suitable you are for the role. I sought a sovereignty for the wrong reasons, while it was forced onto you. Your intentions will be pure, and our clan will prosper with your leadership.

“Remember that it is the people who rise from the ashes who shine the brightest,” he continued. “I trust you with the people I love most: my family and my clan. I put them in your care, Derikles.”

A tight smile, as sad as it was apologetic, and he offered a ray of hope. “But don’t despair, my friend. If you’d prefer the mantle of this burden to fall on another, there is hope. In the archives, Nina and I managed to piece together what our forebears did before a sovereignty became a death sentence. It was knowledge lost to time, and a hope of what we can once more become. To my own horror, I believe it was those of my creed—those born of destruction—that purged the knowledge from the original texts.”

What followed was an intensive description of how to move the sovereignty to another within the clan. Derikles listened with rapt attention. He made mental notes about the complex process, astounded by the mind-numbing details his sovereign had captured.

Isaiah, who’d unfairly hoisted responsibility on him, had just as readily offered him hope.

By the time Isaiah’s dissertation on the sovereignty shift had finished, Derikles’ anger had abandoned him. What remained was a bitter sadness at the loss of a leader and friend, who’d seen his role through to the end.

But Isaiah wasn’t through.

“ Derikles, please know that if there was any other way, I would’ve taken it. I’m … uncertain what will happen to me after our attempt with Key, but I do know one thing. If, for some reason, my body survives, I’d ask that you end me, Derikles. It would only torment Rukia, and I can’t bear the thought of her unfounded hope.”

The man swallowed harshly, his features pinching with the many emotions running under the surface. As he reached to shut off the feed, Isaiah hesitated.

And then he asked Derikles for something that gutted him.

“I’m fairly certain Rukia will hate me for all of eternity—” Isaiah gave the recording a tragic smile, “—but please keep her from seeking the Light. She doesn’t deserve to die just because I did. She’s worth so much more than that.”

Isaiah’s voice wavered, the closest Derikles had ever seen him to a breaking.

“Please take care of them. Please take care of Rukia and Isaak. My mate will never forgive me, that much I know.” He chuckled, but the sound was more sad than anything. “ Please tell them I’m sorry and that I loved them. And when Isaak is old enough, tell him that I was so very proud of him.”

The feed shut off.

Derikles stared at the black screen: empty, broken-hearted, and fundamentally changed by Isaiah’s message. The silence that flooded the office was oppressive, a reminder that he’d never have another conversation with his sovereign again.

There was no doubt in his mind that he needed to show the video to the Raeth community. He squared his shoulders and made his way to the Great Hall.

Rukia was hovering near the entrance. Anxiety was written all over her face, but the moment she saw him, it vanished in a storm of determination.

“Give me that computer, Derikles,” she warned, “or so help me I’ll drown everyone here.”

He wasn’t surprised. “Do you want to watch it alone?”

“I don’t care who sees it, I just need to see him .”

By now, every immortal in the room was paying attention. Though Derikles would’ve loved to snarl and warn them off while Rukia grieved, he realized the importance of what Isaiah had detailed.

Rukia snatched the laptop from him before walking to the ring of chairs, using one as a makeshift table. When she pressed play, no one could look away.

Rukia stared at her mate, but not a single tear fell until he spoke about her directly. There wasn’t a single person who was unaffected by the personal note at the end.

Around the room, there were heads dipped in respect. On some bizarre level, Derikles thought he’d have to defend the choices his former sovereign had made, but that wasn’t the case. Even the other breeds of immortals knew enough about Raeth culture to respect his decisions.

It made Derikles proud to have called Isaiah his sovereign.

Understandably, Rukia was a mess. She’d retreated into the comfort of Gideon’s arms, Jeremiah rubbing her back while they both whispered to her. For a moment, Derikles was trapped by their grief, and he didn’t register the fact that he was no longer standing alone.

Her scent coiled around him. Spun sugar and peaches, it was a sweetness that tantalized his senses. He barely resisted the urge to bury his nose in Celeste’s neck and breathe deeply.

“What’s your poison?”