Chapter 19 Claeg
I screamed, the sound absorbed by the blackness engulfing me. Please, I begged. Kill me. Let me die. My pleas echoed ones my father had once begged of me. But now I understood: I didn't want to live like this—a flightless bird. Powerless. Weak. I needed to fly. I needed to feel the wind beneath my wings and the warmth of the sun on my scales.
Chains weighed me down, wrapping around my torso, feet, and hands. I needed to break them. The darkness hid everything from me, but if I could what chained me… perhaps then I could get free. I grasped the heavy metal between my palms, a sharp pain making me stumble, but I held on as my body slammed into the ground. The air whooshed out of my lungs like a windstorm. A pathetic whimper crackled in my chest. I placed my hands on the ground, searching for the other end.
My heart pumped fear through my vessels. Where did the chains end? I gasped, dropping the chain to clutch my neck. Sharp, shooting pains consumed me.
“Claeg!” someone yelled, but I couldn't see them in the void. There was just… nothing. My mouth opened to call out to them, but a dying whine fell out instead.
What was happening to me? Whose prisoner was I?
I thrashed, pulling against my chains, but their weight was missing. Instead, an ache throbbed in my palms. A pleasant scent wafted into my nose—lavender and spice. Reality punctured my delirious state like a wave crashing upon the cliffs.
Anastasius.
I blinked, squinting. Light filtered in through the dark haze in my mind. My palms were wrapped in white cloth. Intricate braids flowed from my head. The scent of freshness clung to them. A cloth was wrapped around my neck, which I presumed was identical to the ones around my palms. Wood crackled in the fireplace. I looked to the side, observing Anastasius sitting before the hearth, wringing his hands. Unlike my fresh clothing and bandages, he wore what he had at the trial. I frowned, recalling what I could of the events. I remembered his hand on my snout but then nothing. Perhaps this was still a dream. Or maybe I had succumbed to my wounds in the bowels of my enemy’s heart.
I swallowed. Anastasius jerked his head up. His shaded-moon eyes widened. “Eleos!” He jolted to his feet before darting over and crouching before me. “Are you truly awake?” He bit his lip, which I noticed was mangled and bloody as if he had gnawed through it. I groaned in response, wanting to ask what had happened, but my tongue wouldn’t comply. “Don’t speak. Rest, recover. My father . . .” He scowled, marring those perfect features. I wanted to reach up and wipe the frown off his face but hesitated, pushing myself into a sitting position instead, wincing at the pressure on my palms. I remembered the way my muscle had glistened around exposed bone during the trial.
A rasp escaped my raw throat when I tried to speak. He held a flask to my lips. “Drink.”
I did as he ordered, the liquid burning down my throat. The water was laced with something. But there were easier ways to kill me than poison, including letting me die from my wounds. I sputtered, choking on the drop. Each cough sent pain rushing through me, but as he went to pull away, I gripped his wrist, holding it there.
“You’ll aspirate if you overwhelm your body before it's ready,” he said. He tugged away again, but I held strong, surprising myself with my strength.
“What happened?” I mumbled, my tongue thick in my mouth. I swallowed another sip and cursed when a coughing fit proved him right.
Anastasius winced, his matted hair plastered to his skin. Dark rings circled his eyes, darkening their irises. A haunting shadow flickered over them. “The infection worsened.” His fingers caressed my jaw, tucking a stray braid behind my ear. I shook my head.
“The trial . . .” I couldn’t force out any more than that.
“You passed, Eleos,” the prince replied, understanding my weak question.
I cocked an eyebrow at him in disbelief. Hadn’t I cheated by using my draconis?
He shook his head, sighing softly. “Each of the trials are designed to test you in multiple ways. On the surface, this was a simple endurance test but underneath . . . every test has a shortcut, so to speak. The others assumed Odon wanted them to climb in human form, but he never specified that they had to. The next trial will not be as easy.”
I scoffed. What I had gone through had hardly been easy. I couldn’t help wondering what I was doing here. Nothing had gone as expected. Each day my life here became more difficult, and the prince was hinting that things would only get worse. But if I succeeded in the Selection . . . what would happen? I needed to know. Would all of this pain be worth following my Janardan’s orders—to discover their intentions in the Neutral Strip and find their weaknesses? The answer should be an obvious yes, but... I yawned despite the sleep I had just woken from.
“How long . . .” I swallowed, my voice failing.
“Shhh, Eleos. Rest. We can talk more later,” Anastasius coaxed me, but I frowned.
“What happens after the trials?” I rasped. The prince snorted, his expression lightening. A heaviness pulled me down, my body demanding to sleep, but I brushed it off. Whatever it was also numbed my pain.
“So full of stubborn Circulus confidence, I see, even while laying half-dead in my bed.” His light laughter tugged at my heart. I glared at him. When his gaze met mine, his eyes darkened and his teeth punctured his lip. “When this is done, I will make you mine in every way known to De Vita and Circulus,” he growled, lowering himself so that we shared a breath. My breathing hitched, betraying me. His closeness reminded me of the last time we were intimate. I desperately wanted to close the distance between our lips, but exhaustion pulled at me again, threatening to take me into sleep.
“What . . .” I began as my eyes fell closed.
“You have dishonored the Circulus, Claeg.” Clotho sneered at me. She sat on Thana's throne, projecting the picture of a strong Janardan.
“I haven’t,” I contradicted. My body ached everywhere, but I remained on my knees before them, head bowed low.
Clotho tsked. “You deny that you have feelings for the De Vita prince?”
I looked around for Thana but found her missing. “My heart belongs to my clan!” My eyes flared at the questioning of my loyalty.
“And which clan is that?” Clotho spat, rising to her feet. She held a blade, idly tossing it between her hands.
“I don’t know!” I cried. Horror filled me at the admission.
“Finally some truth from you, Eleos,” my sister growled. She raised her blade to my chin, tilting my head so that my eyes met hers. Their violet hues promised violence. “You are no longer Circulus. Your Circles are broken, and you are hereby Pruned.”
“Clotho, don’t do this. You don’t have the authority! I demand to speak to Thana!”
“Thana is gone, Claeg. You killed her,” she said before driving the blade into my gut.
I woke up with a cry dying on my lips.
“I am here,” a soft voice, sweet like nectar, soothed me.
“Clotho?” I whimpered.
“No, Eleos, it is me, Anastasius.”
My eyes cracked open, the small movement taking longer than it should have. It took even longer for me to articulate more words. “Where is my sister?” So this is what it felt like—unimaginable, despicable weakness. I pushed against whatever was holding me down, a dull ache making it hard to resist.
“I imagine the Janardan’s heir is within the Circulus stronghold.”
I frowned, studying the man before me. Then it hit me—my Circles, the De Vita, the trials . . . him.
The prince gave me a concerned look and gently tried to push me back to lie down. I wasn’t having any of it. I waved him away, pushing myself to unsteady feet. A feeling like my guts wanted to erupt from my mouth swept through me, my vision blurred, and my head felt too light for my body. A moan trickled from within me. My hand flew to my forehead as Anastasius braced me, steadying me. I glared at where his scarred hand held me. A few breaths circled through my body before the feeling dissipated. Once certain I could stand without him, I wrenched myself away.
Anastasius followed me as I walked onto the balcony, out into the glaring sun. The bright red streaks were vessels falling through the sky. Draconis flew about the Sand Eye, darting in and around the platform atop the mesa. Far below, people lounged around the oasis, enjoying the water and shaded sand. A gust of wind rustled my braided hair and light clothing, bringing the scent of spice with it. It was peaceful. Quiet. Only the remnants of my dream disturbed me.
“What happened?” I glanced at Anastasius. His lips were puffy and red from where he had bitten them. I walked to the end of the balcony and sat with my legs dangling over the edge. The prince quickly followed suit.
“Your infection . . . it was bad. Your body needed to heal. You’ve been out for quite some time. I’m afraid . . . the next test is in half a moon turn.”
I cried in protest. Odon had said the trial would happen in one moon turn. I had lost half the time. I held his gaze for a moment, watching those pale moons assess me for a reaction. I nodded slowly.
“And until then?”
“You are to remain at my side.” My eyes lit up at the chance to grow closer to him. Long, dark locks of hair swayed about his taut shoulders cut with muscle. It was an effort to tear my eyes away. When I did manage to look away, we sat in silence for a while. Enjoying the view and the sun on our faces. And if I was being honest with myself, I was enjoying the time alone with him. Well, almost alone. The Ruptor sensed Calian’s presence beyond the door nearly continuously, only marking his absence for short periods. Like now. Perhaps he had left to relieve his body of its fluid.
My hand itched to clasp his where it rested within reach. I caved to the impulse. Suddenly, my hand spasmed, drawing my eyes to my bandaged palms. Light pink tissue poked out from beneath them, I pulled back the covering to see the bone was no longer exposed. Where the flesh had been shredded was a thick, ugly scar. Before the trial my hands had been swollen and red, but now they were disfigured. I closed them into fists, unable to stand looking at the weakness. Even if Thana takes you back, Clotho will never look at you the same. You are too broken for the Circulus. Worry bubbled in my chest, real and raw and fresh. What if my clan wouldn’t take me back? The thought stirred my gut, and I had to take a deep breath to keep my stomach’s contents down.
A gentle hand on my forearm made me jolt. “I’m sorry I couldn’t heal them better,” the prince murmured. I squeezed my eyes shut; my teeth ached from my clenching them. “How do your hands feel?” I swallowed, raising my eyes to meet his.
“They’re fine,” I ground out. He nodded, accepting the answer despite the lies on my tongue. He had seen my wounds and was perhaps more familiar with them than I was. We fell into another comfortable silence.
“Do you ever wonder what lies on the other side of the sea?” Anastasius blurted out after a while, surprising me.
My brows pinched. Had I? I didn’t think so. My duty bound me to the Circulus, leaving no room for daydreaming about traveling the world. Yet being here, among De Vita, had shown me how much more we could have. Things were different here, and not all of it was bad.
“I was never allowed to within the Circulus. Within the clan, my only thoughts were for their benefit,” I admitted. The prince gave me a sad smile. I scowled. I didn’t want his pity. I’d had everything I needed in the Circulus.
But in truth, I had thought about what lay across the water when I flew through the sky and rested on the clouds. When I was flying, I pondered things I couldn’t within the walls of the Circulus.
“How did you end up here if you’ve never thought for yourself?” The question was innocent, but it made me cringe. Lies: that was how I was here, sitting next to a man who was supposed to be my enemy. Those lines, however, were continually blurring.
“I told you: I wanted to live,” I growled. He hummed, contemplating my answer as if he didn’t fully believe me. I would have to tread carefully in the future or risk the truth coming to light. He would hate that he had Selected me if he knew the truth. Perhaps he would even Save me himself, whatever that meant. He stood up, putting the subject to rest for now, but I was not deluded: this would come up again. His questions made it clear that he suspected something was amiss.
“Come, Eleos. Let me show you how De Vita live and heal your soul.” He held a hand out to me, but I ignored it. Calian would be back soon, and I didn’t favor getting on his bad side. I got up on my own despite the difficulty made by two injured hands. Anastasius gestured to the open air.“Flying will be good for you. Shift, Eleos,” he coaxed, but I shook my head, for once denying myself the pleasure as I studied him. Standing by his side, the condition of his clothes was apparent—stiff and dry with blood. My blood? I crossed my arms over my chest.
“When was the last time you bathed, Prince?”
His eyebrows pinched together. He shrugged, his cheeks flushing a deep red. He squirmed as I glared at him, unwilling to let this go. I wasn’t too sure why, but the thought of him neglecting himself to care for me didn’t sit well. “Bathe, Stas. You need to take care of yourself, too,” I whispered, unable to withhold the concern in my voice. I beckoned him toward the tub. His shoulders caved as he gave in, but he refused my hand, probably because it was still healing. I dropped my hand and followed him back into his chambers, noting the intricate patterns he waved his hands in curiously.
The impossible scent of woods and fresh oranges filled the room, replacing the spice that the wind brought in from the wavy dunes of sand with the smell of home. I let out a low groan, instantly relaxing a little. Anastasius gave me a knowing smile over his shoulder. “Join me?” he asked as he undressed, tossing the soiled clothing to a corner of the room, where a carving of a winged human was engraved into the wall. I studied the peculiar creature for a moment. It didn’t belong in this world: it felt out of place, just like me. Anastasius stepped into my line of sight, bringing his flaccid cock into view. Even in this state he was thick. I licked my lips, naughty ideas flashing through me. Fuck Calian. I wouldn’t let a weakness like fear stop me.
Slowly, I dragged my eyes up to meet Anastasius’, letting him see the fire in them. I dipped my head, letting him lead me to the tub before guiding me into its perfectly warm water. I groaned at the warmth, letting it soak into my skin, but being careful to keep my bandages dry. Anastasius quickly followed me with a few cloths, and I noticed his sex had grown stiff and long. I smirked, pushing myself to straddle him so that our chests were pressed together, our lengths touching down below.
“Eleos…” Anastasius breathed as I hovered above him. My eyes locked on his lips. I wanted to take them into my mouth and taste. I growled at barriers keeping me from feeling him skin to skin. Hooking my fingers beneath the edges of the wrap on my dominant hand, I began to pull. “Don’t!” Anastasius protested, but it was too late. I tossed the bandage aside and took the cloth he clutched in his hands with a triumphant smirk. Slowly, I washed the grime from his body, scrubbing his chest, shoulders—everywhere but where his body demanded I touch him. After finishing with his hands I pressed a kiss to his fingertips.
“Eleos . . .” he tried again, but I silenced him with my lips.
Our mouths collided, and everything I had felt last time we had kissed came rushing back to me. This prince . . . he was made for me. I groaned into his mouth as he deepened the kiss, rutting against me. His hands came to my waist, pulling me flush to him. The position was awkward in the water, but I didn’t care, too caught up in passion. Every stroke of his tongue and nip of his teeth confirmed he felt what I did—there was a fire between us. It may be broken and dark, but even embers were still hot. My chest heaved. How could I deny this beautiful being anything? I wanted to obey his every command. But I had to stop this before I broke him too. We couldn’t both be broken.
Before I could do anything, he pulled away.
“You’re still healing,” Anatasius remarked, gesturing toward my hand that had gone limp against his damp chest. I frowned. What did that have to do with anything? “We shouldn’t do this,” he explained, and the realization hit me: he believed I was weak. That was why he didn’t want me. The thought speared into me like a wave crashing upon the jagged cliffs back at home. It tossed me around, tearing me up inside. His hand pressed against my chest, and I stilled, my body stiffening. His touch lit a new flame within me, one of red-hot anger. I jerked away, splashing the water over the edge of the clawfoot tub in my scramble to get distance myself from him. It was like the water had burned me with how fast I jumped out of it.
“Eleos!” Anastasius exclaimed, sitting up in the tub. I spun around, showing him my back. He would not see how he had wounded me. He would not see the tears that threatened to spill. My heart splintered knowing I could never Entwine with him. I was here to destroy him. I quickly dried off, ignoring the swish of the water as Anastasius followed me out of the bathtub.
“You are right, Prince,” I bit out. I was weak. I pulled on my tunic and made my way to the balcony. I needed to fly, to get these feelings off my chest and out of my body.
“Don’t leave,” Anastasius begged, his voice trembling and vulnerable. I ignored his pleas, striding out into the fresh air. Even the open space didn’t loosen the tightness in my chest. I needed to get out of here. “Please, Eleos.”
That was the last thing I heard before I shifted and flew off into the falling sun.
The moon rose, and with it came a cold caress. At night, the desert wasn’t generous with warmth. Thankfully, in draconis I could tolerate weather better than my human form. So, I flew late into the night, letting the Ruptor guide me. At some point, a pair of draconis found me and mirrored my movements from afar. Calian’s minions. I ignored them in favor of brooding.
Anastasius made me weak. Worse, I was still drawn to the prince. He had me under his spell. My body wasn’t mine to command. I blinked, letting the thought wash over me. None of that mattered here, among the stars. It was home. Not in the Circulus stronghold, but in the wind as I basked in the scents it delivered to me. The sky was mine. Fucking mine.
A contented roar tingled the back of my throat, aching to erupt from my warmed jaws. I let it loose, the sound echoing off of the mesas below me, amplifying and encompassing me. I let it roll over me again and again, appreciating the cadence of my voice in this form. It was raw, primal, strong. The guttural sound pleased the Ruptor, making me purr with satisfaction.
Flying had always been my way of decompressing . . . healing, in a way. After completing my mother’s Circle and abandoning father in the Neutral Strip, I had spent many days in the air or buried in Sivert’s pert ass.
My eyes fell closed, the thoughts of my parents grounding me even thousands of feet above the ground. I gasped. My dragon form was too small for the feelings contained within. My scales were too tight, compressing my heart. My wings were weighted down by a thousand stones pelting their thick arches. An anguished cry rumbled from deep within my chest, a sorrowful melody of my deepest lament. My heart raced, desperate to find space for the feelings bursting from within. It would never find what it sought because even in the sky chains still bound me.