Between Imminent Fates (The Immortal Accords #12)

40. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Derikles

A week after they received Isaiah’s last wishes, they interrogated Rayn.

Derikles sought permission to enter Nero’s territory, joining Remmus, a Judge who could discern truth from deceit, and Zia, Nero’s second and someone who could validate Rayn’s memories.

Drake, Aidan, and Jeremiah also stood solemnly in the massive dome that functioned as Nero’s gathering space. Much to everyone’s relief, Zeke had elected to stay away. That man seemed to be fighting a losing battle with grief, and he was driving himself into the ground as a result. One sovereign over more than thirteen hundred minds was an unenviable role.

The Sylth clan had nowhere near that number, and still Derikles found himself overwhelmed by the network. An influx of grief poured through the bonds to his clansmen, weighing on the crudely developed valve he had created. At times, he couldn’t discern whether the continual fog of the grey emotion was his or someone else’s.

Rukia’s grief was the sharpest. No matter how many times he reinforced the block between them, it sliced through. After seeing Isaiah’s message, her emotions had twisted. A swell of bitterness and anger had risen alongside her grief.

It made being away from Sylth clan lands harder. Though every one of Isaiah’s lieutenants were supporting Rukia and Isaak, they continued to deal with their own emotional fallout. Derikles’ absence simply shined another light on the gaping hole Isaiah had left behind.

“Shall we?”

All of them entered the room where Rayn was handcuffed to a chair. Nothing but contempt rolled off the traitor as he sneered at them. The flesh wound he’d received on the battlefield had mostly healed, even without much treatment from a Raeth healer.

Rayn was young for a Raeth, probably no more than a century and a half old, but strong nonetheless. Derikles could discern it based on his psychic signature—and the fact that he’d psychically poisoned Remmus nearly to his death.

“We’re going to start simply, Rayn,” Nero began. “Why did you turn against your own kind?”

“What has my kind ever done for me? And who are you to question my decisions?”

The sound of his own grating teeth echoed in Derikles’ ears. Rayn, with his pitch-black hair and clear blue eyes, had the type of arrogance that only came from a lifetime of selfishness.

“We know who you are, Rayn,” Nero lied.

“Do you? Then do you also know that Isaiah, your beloved hero, murdered my entire clan? That he came and killed them all in cold blood?”

Derikles reeled in shock. Nero was better at disguising his reaction, but the claim clearly took him aback as well. They all turned to Remmus, who spoke in low tones.

“He believes that to be the truth.”

“Of course it’s the truth!” Rayn barked. “I was twelve when he murdered my sovereign, my parents, my brother—I watched as that psychopath executed them all.”

One look at Remmus confirmed the words were true.

“You say it was in cold blood,” Nero probed. “That your clan had done nothing to provoke him?”

A hard stare was Rayn’s only response, the look of a man who’d shut down and would allow no further discussion. Zia strode forward to stand beside her sovereign.

Rayn’s glare settled on her dismissively. “What, you going to pull it out of my head? I’ll warn you: whatever you’re hoping to find, it won’t be Isaiah’s innocence.”

Derikles bared his teeth, ready to confront the traitor. Before he even got a foot toward him, a hand gripped his shoulder. “Stay, Derikles. We need him alive if we’re to pull the memories from his head.”

Shrugging off Aidan’s grip, Derikles seethed.

His sovereign wouldn’t have butchered an entire clan without provocation. Isaiah wasn’t heartless, no matter what the traitor said about him. The only time he’d ever wrought that type of destruction was—

Derikles froze.

Circe .

“You were part of the clan that abducted Circe and her mother,” he growled, stalking forward to stand in front of the traitor. “The monsters who forced an adolescent to find merjhas for their own sick purposes. Then when she went into energy drought, your people killed her mother in front of her as punishment. She had nightmares for years!”

Fisting a hand in his shirt, he jerked Rayn taut against his bindings. “Isaiah took vengeance because your clan abducted two of his people and tortured them. That blood was on their hands.”

Derikles shoved him back against the metal chair, unable to look at him any longer. He stalked back toward the wall and leaned against it with a growl. Realizing how much evil had come about because of Rayn’s twisted interpretation of Isaiah’s actions made his blood boil.

“You were a child, yes?” Nero asked.

Rayn still clung to his sneer. “Twelve.”

The only redeeming thing about Rayn was that he’d been a youngling at the time of Circe’s capture—only a few years her junior. He likely hadn’t participated in her torture or abduction. That fact alone kept Derikles from eviscerating him where he sat.

Derikles remembered when Isaiah had returned from retrieving Circe that day. She had curled into him, hiding her face and shaking like a leaf. His sovereign’s armor had been covered in blood, and the burden of his responsibilities seemed to weigh on him more than ever. It had been one of the occasions Derikles remembered clearly thinking he never wanted to lead a clan of his own.

Isaiah had paid the price for what he did that day. Not only in the vicious wounds he bore, and the recoil that put him down for nearly a week, but emotionally. He had devoted himself to raising Circe and healing her mind, but had never been the same man, nor the same leader from that day onward.

“And Isaiah didn’t take your life?”

“He didn’t even know I was there,” Rayn spat.

Jeremiah interjected, “Rayn’s a Shield. He must have manifested that day.”

That would have been the only way Isaiah wouldn’t have noticed. Had he known a child was there, he’d have taken a much different approach.

“He never would have let you witness the sentence if he had known you were there,” Derikles stated, “nor would he have abandoned you after. You would have had a home with us. Been shown kindness and taught right from wrong. He wasn’t— isn’t —a monster.”

“You didn’t see him murder twenty of your own family, did you?” Rayn shot back. “Isaiah is the monster of my childhood, and he got what he deserved. I don’t care that thousands died— I finally got my revenge .”

***

The moment he returned to clan lands, Derikles began debating how to inform the lieutenants of Rayn’s history with Isaiah.

Over the previous week, they had watched the message Isaiah had left. Connected to them on a psychic level, Derikles could feel their reaction—even if they’d been outwardly stoic. None of them wanted to admit that their sovereign was gone.

The prevailing thought seemed to be that Derikles was simply keeping the throne warm for when Isaiah returned. Part of him refused to believe that his sovereign was incapable of recovering. Despite a lifetime of knowing that psychic burnout led to psychic death, their generational knowledge had been wrong before. Key had proven that on the battlefield.

Isaiah had been larger than life: a gifted swordsman, a talented leader, and a loyal friend. If Derikles examined himself in the same way, he came out wanting. The clan was struggling under the unprecedented change in leadership, and though he was trying to meet their needs, it was difficult to find his footing. He just didn’t believe himself worthy of the position he’d usurped.

Reopening the wound by revealing Rayn’s history could destabilize the clan further. Circe would be deeply affected. She had just lost a father figure in Isaiah, and now he’d reawaken trauma from her past.

It was a delicate situation, and he’d have to consider how to best approach it. Lucius, her mate, would be essential. Perhaps it would be better to tell him first and partner together in revealing the truth to Circe

A telepathic ping from Jaeda pressed against Derikles’ mind. What is it, Jaeda?

Rukia wants answers.

He was unsurprised. Rukia had known he was going to audit Rayn’s interrogation today. The water Elemental would demand to hear what happened, and he wouldn’t keep them from her. If Circe was there with her, it would complicate matters.

Who else is there?

Just Lucius and I, Jaeda replied.

Without delay, Derikles teleported to Isaiah and Rukia’s home. It functioned as a meeting space for them even with their sovereign indisposed, and he didn’t see that changing.

He knocked once on the door before letting himself inside. Jaeda was already there, sitting in the armchair reading a book. Though outwardly, she looked relaxed, there was a stiffness in her shoulders that revealed far too much about her state of mind. Lucius nodded in greeting, but Rukia’s arrival made him flinch.

“Why did Rayn want to kill Isaiah?” Her eyes narrowed. “Is he dead now?”

“No, he’s not dead—not yet,” Derikles replied. “Nero interrogated him, and we discovered that when Rayn was a child, he witnessed his clan being killed. He was the sole survivor. The clan—”

“What does that have to do with Isaiah?” the water Elemental interjected. “With the Citizens ?”

“Rayn’s sovereign abducted two of our clan members and murdered one, Rukia,” Derikles said softly, “Isaiah teleported there in response and was attacked. He defended himself—and the one he went there to save.”

Jaeda’s mouth dropped open as she put the pieces together.

“Isaiah never knew Rayn was there,” Derikles continued. “Rayn manifested as a Shield and hid, staying out of sight until it was over, but that doesn’t change the fact that he witnessed our sovereign claiming the lives of everyone he loved.”

Turning to Lucius, Derikles confirmed, “Rayn was a part of the clan that abducted Circe and her mother. We need to talk about how to tell her.”

A sudden, sharp sting of pain stabbed through Derikles’ clan bonds. Spinning, he found Circe in the doorway, her own Shield engaged—and keeping him from registering her presence.

“That’s why he hated Isaiah,” Circe breathed.

“Circe—”

She shook her head as her pain overflowed, covering her face and sobbing. Brushing past Derikles, Lucius drew her into his chest.

Cursing himself, Derikles reached out and gently squeezed her shoulder. Though he couldn’t forgive himself for making the error, the least he could do now was offer her support.

“There is no way he could’ve known,” Rukia said. “If Isaiah had sensed a child there, it would’ve played out differently.”

He nodded. “Those were my thoughts as well.”

Derikles, Rukia, and Jaeda moved into the kitchen to give the couple time to process. Circe’s pain stabbed at him through their clan bonds, but Lucius was her mate, and that relationship was far more important.

“There has to be something more we can do for him, Jaeda,” Rukia growled. “He’s been comatose for more than a month now, and he’s not getting better.”

“We’re trying, Rukia,” came the healer’s kind words, “but every text I’ve read says there’s no coming back from a psychic wound of this magnitude. It’s not something I can heal—and even Luna hasn’t had any success with Key or Nina.”

“Jaeda is doing everything in her power to help Isaiah.”

“And yet, it still isn’t enough.” Releasing a frustrated huff, Isaiah’s mate turned on him. “Did he give you any indication that he was going to give you the sovereignty? That he was going to his death?”

A thread of guilt. “He tested a transfer once before, but at the time, I had no way of knowing what it was—or would become.”

Immediately outraged, she hissed, “He tested it on you, and you didn’t think to say anything?”

“Rukia, for millennia, there has never been any indication that such a thing was possible,” he explained. “The only way out of a sovereignty is death: that was the truth handed down to us for generations. If I had known his intent, don’t you think I would’ve stopped this madness?”

Teeth bared, the water Elemental stormed out of the house. The sound of cursing outside made both of them cringe, but the healer looked defeated. Walking over, he drew her into his arms.

“It isn’t your fault, Jaeda.”

“Or yours, either.”

For a moment, they simply stayed locked together, comforting one another through a pain that would seemingly never end. Soon, they’d have to discuss what Isaiah’s injury meant for the long run. It wasn’t a conversation he looked forward to.

The floor creaked overhead. Immediately, he scanned the room above him and realized that Circe had stayed back. Excusing himself, he went in search for the red-haired Raeth where Isaiah lay sleeping.

Guilt radiated off her in waves.

“This is my fault. Rayn became our enemy because of what Isaiah did to protect me. I’m the reason the Citizens got as far as they did.”

“That absolutely isn’t true. Wicked men don’t need a reason to practice evil, Circe. Even if Rayn had been saved by Isaiah, this was still a possible outcome.”

She sniffed. “But it’s still my fault. He saved my life and now he’s dying because of it.”

Her pain drew him closer. “He saved us all, Circe. You, me, and everyone on the field that night. Key wove the tapestry, but we all played our parts. For better or for worse, each of us had a hand in what went down that night. We won, Circe—and that is what matters.”

“Is it a victory if not all of us were saved?”

Silent for a long moment, Derikles fought against the part of him that’d been wounded by Isaiah’s sacrifice. There was an element of deceit in what his former sovereign had done, but he didn’t doubt Isaiah’s intentions for a minute.

After pulling himself together, he asked, “Do you think Isaiah would’ve given his life if it hadn’t been worth it to him? Do you think he would regret what he did? Him, or Key, or Nina?”

Circe tearfully shook her head. “No.”

“That’s right. Isaiah would’ve given his life for any of us that day, Circe. That’s just the type of man he was. He wouldn’t want you to live in sorrow and regret.”

“I miss him.”

“We all do.”

***

By the end of the following week, every one of Isaiah’s lieutenants had all come to the same conclusion: his condition was deteriorating. Jaeda had observed a decrease in his body temperature of more than two degrees, and his reflex movements were almost nonexistent. His heart rate was stuttering, falling to a low of nearly forty beats per minute before rising back up to a normal rate.

Jaeda hadn’t left Isaiah and Rukia’s home for more than thirty minutes at a time in more than three days, and her mania was beginning to affect the other lieutenants. Something had to be done.

Regardless of his own wishes, Derikles would honor Isaiah’s.

When Rukia had taken Isaak to the clan’s lake, and Jaeda had left to refuel the massive amounts of healing energy she was using, Derikles quietly ascended the stairs. One look at his sovereign and he almost abandoned the quest. Isaiah’s grey complexion stretched over an emaciated frame. His cheeks were sunken and, while he breathed hard, he never seemed to get enough oxygen.

If Isaiah could see himself now, he’d wonder why Derikles had waited so long. Guilt crashed into him hard, and he physically staggered. He had a job to do.

Somewhere in Isaiah’s bedroom, amid the boxes of saline bags and warming blankets, sat a sculpture containing a merjha dagger. It was the only object capable of fully claiming Isaiah’s life.

Rayn’s words kept repeating in his head . I hope his mind rots and your clan crumbles from within. You’ll have no choice but to end his life because you can’t function without your precious sovereign.

Though Isaiah had asked for this, it would be Derikles’ hand that spilled his blood. He had no way of knowing if it was too soon or if he’d given Isaiah enough time to recover. Had they done enough to help the sovereign, had Rukia had a proper goodbye?

Was he making a mistake?

He squeezed the cool hilt of the merjha dagger tightly in his hand as his mind shifted back and forth. In the end, his indecision cost him the choice.

“No!”

Rukia’s shriek startled him away from Isaiah, and she threw herself on top of her mate protectively. “Stay away from my mate, Derikles. If you take another step, I’ll end you.”

The pure viciousness in her words told him just how much she meant it. The Elemental watched his every move. If he took a step to the right, Rukia shifted, forming a physical shield between her mate and Derikles.

“This is what he wanted.”

Though he wanted to cure the suffering of his clansman—and Isaiah—his soul was relieved at her interference.

“I don’t care what he wanted! Look where doing what he wanted got him,” she hissed. “It has been a month! My mate is still healing, and if you touch him, I can assure you, it’ll be the last thing you ever do.”

From the doorway, Jaeda echoed, “Derikles.”

Pity, fear, hopelessness, sadness—he could read all the Healer’s emotions through the clan bond, but still didn’t know whether she’d said his name in warning or support. The tears tracking down to pool under her chin were enough to make him admit defeat.

He teleported the dagger back to where it belonged. “If this isn’t what you want, I can accept that, but we need to discuss how to sustain him.”

A curt nod, and they all turned for the door—except Rukia. The water Elemental didn’t move from her mate’s side while Derikles exited. She didn’t follow him until after he’d stepped out into the hallway and had taken the first several stairs down.

Even before he’d gotten to the main floor, he’d reached out telepathically to Celeste, sending her a mental ping to ask for a moment of her time. Though they’d spoken briefly two days ago, he wondered whether Nina was faring just as poorly as Isaiah.

It took less than ten seconds for Celeste to respond. Derikles . How nice of you to call .

How is Nina? he asked. Has she shown any signs of improvement?

No, but we haven’t been able to think of anything new to try.

Sighing, Derikles gave Celeste the truth. Isaiah is showing signs of deterioration. Decreased heartbeat, losing body heat, rapid and shallow respiration. It doesn’t matter how often we install the feeding tube. Is Nina showing the same?

No, but we also have an IV line of blood . She’s a vampire, after all .

Thanks for the info, Celeste. I’ll ask Nero if Key is doing any better and pass along any updates.

For a moment, her presence lingered in his mind, as if she wanted to say more. He held his breath, wondering, but then she was gone, taking with her the light caress of her mental presence.

Having landed on the first floor, he silently called each of the lieutenants into the living room. Jaeda and Rukia appeared behind him, the healer holding Isaiah’s mate close. The Elemental’s eyes flicked between him and the stairs, and he could sense the nervous anxiety that pinged through her, courtesy of their clan bond.

A quick conversation with Nero proved similarly fruitless, further souring Derikles’ mood. It was a good thing that every person he trusted was standing before him.

“We need to talk about Isaiah.”

Immediately, none of them could meet his gaze. Even Jaeda, who’d attempted to be strong for him, found more interest in the knitted blanket on the couch.

“He’s getting worse, and showing signs of deterioration,” Derikles explained. “Nothing we’ve done is working.”

“He needs more time,” Rukia argued. “He’ll get better soon.”

“He won’t, Rukia.”

The truth hurt her, and while he’d spoken it softly, she still crumpled onto the couch behind her. Beside her, Sia’s arm came around her shoulders and his sovereign’s mate disappeared into her protective hold.

“I’ve amped him every day since he fell,” Derikles explained. “He’s retained none of that energy. Every time I go back in there the following day, it’s as though what I did the previous day was poured through a sieve. Nero found this before—in the archives. Once the mind is static, there’s no coming back.”

“But those archived texts are centuries old, Derikles, if not millennia.” Jaeda shook her head. “Things have changed since then, and the healing arts have advanced. If what we’re doing now gives him a better shot at recovering, then shouldn’t we give him every chance?”

“He’s lost a massive amount of weight, and his heart is barely functioning. No matter how many times we try a gastric tube, it’s never enough. We’ve all attempted to reach him, and nothing has helped.” Derikles resisted the urge to grimace. “I’m beginning to think that what the archives say is true: that there won’t be any recovery, regardless of what we do. It’s better to cede to his wishes, Rukia.”

“No.”

Rukia’s tenacity, something he’d always admired, came barreling back into the limelight as she jolted upright, fighting for her mate. Isaiah’s condition was breaking all of them.

“ No . There has to be something else we can do.”

“I don’t know what else to do,” Jaeda said. “He’s always come out of recoil so quickly.”

“We’ve done everything we can for him.”

“Except give him time. I said no , Derikles,” Rukia snarled. “I don’t care that you’ve taken his position. I don’t care that you’re five hundred years older than I am. Isaiah is mine , not yours! I’ll take him away from all of you if I see another act like the one I stopped today.”

“And you’d let him wither away to nothing?” Across from him, Rukia flinched, a chink in her exterior that he’d keep chipping away at should it prove necessary. “Key is in the same boat. The only thing that’s made Nina keep from falling into the same issue is that she’s vampire, and they’ve given her blood transfusions.”

“I don’t care if it takes another week, another month, or another year. There’s always hope so long as his heart beats.” Rukia inclined her chin. “You can leave my home now, Derikles.”

Failure. That’s what this felt like. He was failing to take Isaiah’s place and lead his people, and failing to see to the mate and family his sovereign had left behind. None of the lieutenants came to his aid—not that he expected them too. It was still disheartening.

He stood, taking in the despondency on the faces that surrounded him. “It’s your home, and he’s your mate, Rukia. I’m trying to do what he wanted. What he entrusted to me.”

The fierceness of her expression softened. “I know. This isn’t about you, Derikles. I simply want to give my mate every chance to come back.”

He stepped out into the darkness that covered every inch of clan land, and he couldn’t help but find it fitting. Shadows had begun to blot out the light of hope.

Collapsing in his favorite armchair at home, he pinched the bridge of his nose. For the first time since Isaiah had fallen unconscious, Derikles had forgotten to Amp his sovereign—and that wouldn’t do. Instead of returning to the home he’d just been banished from, he closed his eyes and reached out along their clan bond.

What’d once been his brilliantly shining star was now little more than a spark. Engaging his Amp ability, he funneled his energy into the man on the other end. This connection would channel directly into the well of Isaiah’s power instead of syphoning on the physical plane. With any luck, they would both accomplish the same goal, like writing and speaking would both communicate the same message.

As Derikles forced the energy into his former sovereign, he watched closely to confirm it transferred well through this impromptu method.

What happened surprised him.

Isaiah’s psychic signature within the neural net drank at the transfer and immediately displayed a larger charge. The flickering spark grew to a fledgling flame. Though it was nowhere near his former glory, there was no denying that the energy he’d transferred had had a unique impact.

He funneled his energy into Isaiah until he approached his own limit. The hope that had abandoned him came flooding back.

***

Derikles continued the transfer through the clan bond the following morning and evening, and then the morning after that. At the end of the second day, Isaiah’s psychic signature had grown larger than it’d been in weeks.

When Jaeda did her morning rounds, Derikles joined her for an official confirmation. He hadn’t mentioned anything to the healer, wanting an unbiased professional opinion about any significant improvement. The moment he stepped foot inside his sovereign’s home, Rukia tailed him.

As Jaeda took Isaiah’s vitals, she remarked, “His vitals have evened out and his energy reserves aren’t completely depleted any longer. I’ve no idea how this is even possible.”

“Two days ago, I started Amping him through the clan bonds,” Derikles said. “His psychic signature in the network has altered—it’s no longer the muted presence it was before.”

“Keep doing it,” the healer said. “It’s the only positive change I’ve seen in him. Everything is looking up, and he’s stabilized across every level.”

Leaning down, she turned on the pen light to check his pupils when she startled backward without warning.

“Jaeda?”

Derikles was immediately beside her, grasping her arm. On shaky legs, she walked forward and hovered over Isaiah. Then, slowly, she opened one eye.

Brown.

“His eyes shifted back to brown, Derikles.” Jaeda shook her head, still riled. “That has to be an improvement.”

“What does it mean?” Rukia asked, linking her fingers through Isaiah’s with hope lighting her features.

“I don’t know—but it’s a good sign.”