Chapter 16
Chapter
Sixteen
YOU ARE ALL IDIOTS
I try to flee.
He refuses to allow it.
Prince Renaud herds me, forces me to remain on the field with those I've condemned to die by flame. The cries sicken me but I steel myself, realizing it's only right and honorable I bear witness. I've made this decision; the death and pain are on my head.
A blast of fire catches me in the arm and I scream, part pain, part keening war cry, as it scorches flesh not covered by armor. Strong arms whirl me out of the way, throwing up a shield that breaks the inferno.
The Prince tosses me to the ground at his feet, his eyes black. “If you rise, I will kill you.”? 1
I understand obedience, I’ve simply never found a male other than my father worthy of it. Who could enforce it. This male’s worth—in terms of power—is not in question.? i
My lip peels up anyway as my fingers flex. He holds my gaze a beat, as if to be certain I won’t move. I’ll bide my time. I suppose I don't want to die gloriously after all. Or maybe it's more truthful to say I simply don't have the strength left to push to my feet. Not after hours dueling him.
Everenne's ruler strides forward and deals with the wyverns. Watching him from my knees, whatever moisture is left in my mouth evaporates as my anger cools.
One male vanquishes two wyverns and cuts through the remaining battle like a scythe, ending it in minutes. I won't tell my House I told you so.
He, indeed, could have done this at any time. Instead he's let us rage, like a parent waiting out a toddler's tantrum then yanking the rug away when patience expires.
Lifting my hand, I gesture.
“Stand down,” édouard bellows in the distance. “Retreat.”? 2
We miscalculated, I muse.
And this, Darkan scoffs, is why none of you are Prince of Everenne. Because you are all idiots.
I’d close my eyes but I force myself to witness. This is a lesson I need to learn if my House is going to survive.
In this is also another lesson; why we do not allow our affection for others to sway us from our purpose.
There is a time to listen to counsel, and a time to keep your own.
You must learn this, Aerinne. A ruler's vision must be deeper, and longer, than the cries and petty complaints of the rabble.
Even, he continues in a much softer voice, his voice fading as I struggle to stay awake, if the rabble are those you value above all others.
The wild creature in me claws to the surface, fighting burnout and blood loss, but fatigue drags me under.
As soon as I close my eyes, I sink into the misty place.
I blink, turning in a slow circle. For the first time ever it isn't. . .misty. Bright sand warms my soles, my lungs inhaling the brine of a brilliant sea. My gaze catches on a tall male standing several feet away, his bare back to me.
I stiffen and step forward. A lurching step. His skin is tanned as dark as mine, but his hair is a long fall of true gold, interspersed with braids woven with shells and gold cuffs. He wears a knee length white pleated garment. . .a shendyt? I know better than to label it a skirt.
He turns. I almost go to my knees, but then I'm running towards him. Eyes the deep blue-green of calm ocean waters, flecked with driftwood brown, widen. I hurtle into my brother's arms and he catches me.
“Aerinne!”
I'm strangling him, the years since he was ripped from me a vortex yanking me right back into my 16-year-old self. In this moment I don’t want to be Lady Aerinne.
I don’t want to be the unacknowledged Lord of my House in my older brother's absence.
I only want to be his little sister again, the thorn in his side he refuses to dig out.
I want to claw back all the time fatal immortal politics stole along with every chance for a normal adolescence.
“Rinne, by Psion.” He detangles himself from me and stares, looking me up and down. I remember him being so tall, but. . .I'm tall now too. “Have so many years passed,” he says softly.
“Where are you, Danon? Where are you? I'll come for you. Who do I have to kill?”
There is no doubt in my mind my brother is alive. But I don't know this place. At least I don't think I do.
Something flashes across his face. “No. Don't come find me, little thorn. Stay away.”
“Have you lost your mind! Of course I'm going to come find you! Where are you? Tell me where you're at.” I'm begging. “I need you to come home. Please let me bring you home.”
He closes his eyes tight, and a sigh leaves his lips. “I can't return right now and I don't want you to come looking for me. That is an order from your Lord.”
“I’m Lord of House Faronne,” I snarl, and almost start because. . .I was able to say the words aloud.
His affectionate smile is wry, his eyes grave. “I have no doubt of it. But you’re not Lord of Avallonne.” He hesitates. “Otieno. . .”
“Baba's alive, and acts as your Regent but you know how he is. He doesn't want anything to do with ‘Roman bread and circus.’ He does the paperwork and the politicking, édouard and I handle the feuds.”
I’m hanging off his neck like I’m still twelve and trying to annoy him with my weight. He doesn’t notice—which says something, considering the weight I’ve packed on in both muscle and feminine adult padding over the years .
Danon looks thoughtful. “That is not an unintelligent arrangement—Embriel’s arrangement with Baroun is similar. Embriel was never interested in the feuds either. I believe he took the position as Dean to give himself an excuse, though he’ll deny it.”
My chest expands as I take a deep breath to report to my Lord. “We've entered a ceasefire. The Prince is awake.”
His expression alters, tension tightening his shoulders. He doesn't ask. But I answer anyway. “Danon, the Prince. . .I think he—I think. . .”
I can't voice my uneasy suspicions. Not to my brother, though I want his counsel and comfort. Looking in his eyes now, I hold back, sparing him those few sentences that will do nothing but cause worry. Wherever he is, he can't help me.
He understands anyway—I file that away to think about later. “Listen to me, little thorn. There are things you don't know about the Kuthliele bloodline, about your father's bloodline. You're not as defenseless as others may think—and you are far more valuable to the Temthrennes than you know.”
“What?”
He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I won’t say more when I’m not there to protect you. There are things, that if you knew, would begin a chain of events you aren’t ready for. Infants don’t survive when born too soon. Pretend to be nothing but our mad halfling pup a few years longer.”
. . .what pretense, but okay.
Danon clutches my shoulders. “The Prince knows what I know and he will seduce you, but don’t let it be to his will.”
“I don't care about that right now. Tell me where you are.”
His silence is answer enough .
Because he refuses to tell me, I step away—but grab his hand so he can’t disappear—and look around.
There's a glimpse of a white stone building in the distance, high up a cliff accessed by a narrow footpath.
There's forest, and when I gaze out across the sea, in the distance is the faintest shimmer of land.
“This is an island,” I say. “This isn’t earth Realm.”
Danon’s expression hardens as he lets me go, his words rapid, his tone brusque.
“Leave, Aerinne. Obey me. It will not be forever. We're immortal and we will meet again. I love you, little thorn, and I am well. Hold the line and hold your own.” His eyes brighten, mouth tense as he forces himself to step back. “You’re lovelier than Mother, and just as fierce. Understand your worth—you’re adult enough now to leverage it. ”
He lifts his hand and gestures as I cry out in denial— “Wait, Danon!”
—and the scene shatters.
I'm frozen. My brother is alive. I know it. He’s healthy and. . .I don’t know if free is the right word but he didn’t look under duress. I force myself not to break down in crushing relief, but to take a deep breath and focus on where I am now.
Overgrown gardens surround me, blooming with flowers and foliage taller than people.
I glimpse a wide river through the foliage, and scent water in the air.
Cool, dappled light filters through boughs heavy with leaves, blanketing the forest floor with hues of green. Paradise, though not quite tropical.
A paradise with teeth.
The undergrowth rustles and I spin, heart pounding. Something moves in the shadows, large and dangerous. I back away but can't escape .
“Our idyll comes to an end,” Darkan murmurs, arms sliding around me from behind. They're covered in black armor, shimmering scales edged in antique gold. His fingers are long, light brown, his sharp nails a matte black.
He lowers his head and silky, crushed sapphire and onyx hair slides over my shoulders.
He won't let me shift to face him, keeping my back pressed against his chest and the uncomfortable ridges and grooves of his armor.
He's never physically manifested before, not beyond a tall, somewhat solid shadow.
There's a light vibration at my ankle and I look down. My black kitten rubs her head against me, her brilliant green and purple gaze almost pleading.
“What do you mean? Where are we?” I pause, sluggish mind beginning to work as she wanders off into the foliage. She's grown. “Who really are you?”
He’s silent a while. “You were a bright child. I feared you would die from your fearlessness if I didn't contain you.”
“Why did you care?”
“You called me. I was ten thousand years ago and I heard your voice. It took me time to find you, and then I couldn't look away.”
Dread blooms in my gut. Dread, and awful betrayal. I'm sometimes stubborn, often historically uninformed, but never stupid.
“How can you be ten thousand years ago?” How can I? Darkan is me.
“The same way you can be here. Where do you think we are?”
“In my mind. ”
Darkan laughs, the laugh of a fallen angel. “My sweet, halfling girl. We were never in your mind. We were always in mine. ”
Darkan is?—