Tortured: An Epic Dragons and Immortals Romantic Fantasy (Fallen Emrys Chronicles Book 3)

Chapter 18

Seven years as an assassin.

Seven years of killing.

I haven’t been hunted by Caedryn’s men in that long—because I have become the hunter.

But it doesn’t harden me enough.

I still see Niawen.

She still haunts me.

Still tortures me.

I try to stay away from visions and dreams of her as much as possible.

But on some days, they slip in without a welcome.

Niawen is happy at least. Her happiness softens my anguish, but she still feels it. Sometimes, in my dreams, she whispers into my ear how sorry she is.

I always wake up feeling her warm breath on my ear.

Riahn always smirks when she sees the stains the tears leave on my cheeks.

I spend hours lying on the hard ground at night, watching Niawen twirl her young daughter in a meadow. Or brush her brown hair and braid it. Or take the sheep to the stream for a drink.

Her daughter’s name is Ahnalyn, and her green eyes burn brightly in my mind.

Green eyes like her mother’s.

Those are the nights. But the days… They are on the other side of the world. Roughly twelve hours apart. Her nights are my daytime torments.

I try to stay busy throughout the day to avoid slipping into a vision of her… and Owein. But the days are often spent traveling. Hiking isn’t distracting enough. I trip often. Nearly fell into a ravine once. Flying on a dragon is worse, with nothing to do for long flights but hold on to Westin’s waist and grimace in horror.

Niawen laughs with Owein often and kisses him and lies in his arms at night. Her quiet groans of pleasure often slip past our careful control.

I try to tell myself she’s happy.

That should be all that matters.

I try not to picture her face.

Riahn and the guys encourage me to seek out other women.

I won’t have it.

“You just need to fall in love with someone else,” Gilmar says.

“You just need a good, mind-blowing romp,” Westin says.

They are no help.

Often I give in and open completely to her. I touch my own cheek as if touching hers and know when she feels my caress.

Then she cries.

And I cry.

We are torturing each other.

In a small way, this makes me feel such delight every day,Caedryn says. To know that you are torturing each other.

Do you not feel the same anguish? I ask.

I am over Niawen.

You are such a liar, I mumble.

Would you like to see how over Niawen I am?

***

I don’t want to believe Caedryn’s threats. Wherever Niawen and Owein are, she’s too far away from Caedryn. Travel in the three realms is slow. How can he possibly get to her? Rolant is divided from the other two realms by a mountain range in the west and one in the south.

And Caedryn does not have a dragon for travel as my small group of assassins does.

As it often happens, we take our journey by horse. The dragons are in the north, visiting with some kin. Spring is nice, and we are moving through the East Wood in the country of Goleuddydd. Our next target is in a village at the edge of the forest, and our mark has a particular displeasure for dragons. They are not allowed in his region.

Horses are a nice change of pace. The forest is alive after a light rain that arouses a quiet patter of drops every time a breeze stirs the canopy.

“Let’s stop soon for a meal.” Riahn leaves the road and heads into the underbrush. “Look for a good place to make camp.”

I follow Riahn, with Gilmar, Kian, and Westin right behind me. The forest isn’t too dense, so our horses don’t have difficulty skirting around small shrubs.

As I round a tree, I’m suddenly creeping through the underbrush on my belly.

Startled, I blink. I have a sense that the day is dimmer, and the trees more sparse.

I sniff and lick my paw as I pause to listen.

Paw?

I grunt. This is a vision. My feet are covered in golden fur. I can still feel the reins in my hands, but my sight has been overtaken. Caedryn? What are you up to?

I receive a snort in return.

What beast is this? I ask. What sorcery?

A mountain cat, Caedryn hisses. She’s a pretty creature.

The cat moves into a crouch and peers through the leaves of a bush.

Its ear twitches. I ignore its urge to scratch.

How are you in this beast’s mind?I ask.

Oh, Kenrik. I’ve been using this trick for some time. I just haven’t shown you yet, but today, I have something extra special to share with you.

That’s when I see her.

Niawen.

She laughs as the wind blows her ashen hair. Her eyes are as green as I remember. A blistering need to hold her courses through me.

The cat blinks.

Are you controlling it?I ask.

More or less. It’s called a familiar. I enter its mind and can control where it goes and see what it sees.

And you’ve tracked down Niawen with it. My heart races. Staying away from her has truly been pointless. How long have you been watching her?

For weeks.

Niawen sits on the bank of the stream and unlaces her boot.

I haven’t touched her for seven years,Caedryn sighs as we watch her.

I haven’t either. She’s not yours.

A madness rips through my core. This does not come from me. The cat inches forward.

Ahnalyn dances through the grass toward Niawen. With a roaring laugh, she throws herself into her mother’s arms.

The cat closes its eyes for a breath, as if Caedryn is breathing in the moment.

Your daughter,I say.

She looks so much like her mother—

I hiss. But with your hair color.

“Kenrik?” Riahn asks. I feel her touch on my forearm. “Are you lost in another vision?”

“Yes,” I growl. “I need to stay with this one. Caedryn is up to something.”

Riahn releases her hold. “I will be right here should you need me.”

Niawen and Ahnalyn laugh together over something we can’t hear. I envy the child. Able to touch Niawen and laugh with her.

A pain coils deeply into my heart. This coming from Caedryn.

What do you mean to do?Fear tightens its hold on my lungs as the cat scooches forward. Don’t touch her, Caedryn.

The cat’s claws extend. You, dear Kenrik, are too late, Caedryn says.

I beg of you, don’t touch her!

I will, fool. You should have never left Niawen. You as good as dug her own grave.

I have to stop him. I open my sight to Caedryn, just so he can see exactly what I’m doing as I reach for my hunting knife. Vindication courses through me as I grip the blade. A smirk twists my mouth.

The cat freezes. Panic fills Caedryn’s voice. Drop it, Kenrik. Drop it!

It’s been a while since we shared pain, and I’m not afraid to use it as a weapon.

I will heal.

My vision of Niawen disappears.

The threat of injury must have released Caedryn from the mountain cat.

Niawen is safe, for now.

But I’m determined to punish Caedryn.

I raise the blade high above my head, grasping the hilt with two hands, allowing Caedryn to see every single second.

“Kenrik!” Riahn shouts.

“I know what I’m doing. Don’t stop me!” I shout.

Don’t do this! Caedryn begs.

I plunge down with all my strength. I utter a sucking gasp as the blade sinks into my thigh, clear to the hilt. It barely misses the bone.

I scream. The pain is blinding. With satisfaction, I sense Caedryn dropping to the ground. He roars with agony as he thrashes about. My voice joins his, but I have sense enough not to move with a blade in my muscle.

“Kenrik!” Riahn wraps her hands around mine. Together we stabilize the blade. “Help me get him off the horse.”

The horse. That’s right. I’m still riding through the woods. I hear Gilmar’s grumble and Kian’s growl of annoyance.

Curse you!Caedryn cries.

Worth it.I grunt as they lower me to the ground. Caedryn’s adding pressure to the invisible wound on his leg. I wish he actually bled.

I hold the vision of him as I yank the knife out, and Caedryn howls once more.

“You are nuts,” Westin says.

“Idiot is more like it.” Riahn presses against my wound. “Kian, heal this.”

Caedryn and I pass out at the same time.