3. CHAPTER 3
Kira
The Capital
Kallum, Ciondo
“Panic kills.”
Kira repeated the words to herself so many times that they lost all meaning.
Her mother had whispered it to her their last night together as they hid from the soldiers, listening to their creaking footsteps overhead.
Even though Kira struggled to remember Mom's voice, those words never left. They always saved her.
Today, though… Today, Kira failed to stop that absolute horror from rushing through her veins. She needed to keep moving. Keep stalking around the empty, white room.
When the soldiers ambushed her in the market yesterday, she thought for sure the Phaedra had finally figured out she'd written in the sky above his tower.
But when she arrived at the prison, an officer kept interrogating her about her mom and some military operation with the Followers. Insane. Kira knew nothing about it.
If she possessed the ability to laugh without falling into a heap of sobs, then she'd laugh hysterically that she ended up in prison for anything other than what the Phaedra called one of the greatest crimes of the century.
Which, what kind of joke was that? Writing a message in the sky didn't compare to the atrocities he and his soldiers committed.
But as much as it frightened Kira to think of how she'd infuriated their tyrant emperor, she carried his rage as her only badge of honor.
Kira did that. Kira threatened his power over the people.
The pursuit started as a hobby in the children's home.
The house mothers and instructors praised her for the interest she showed in science and math.
When she began tinkering with drones, they gave her all the time and resources she wanted to study.
But once Kira saw the power of chemistry, autonomous drones, and Pixi Dust, she pretended to lose interest. Because she knew she'd found a weapon against the Phaedra, and she needed to avoid suspicion.
All that helped her to write in his sky and to continue devising ways to use Pixi Dust against him.
Despite being so careful, Kira always expected she might end up in this prison.
But she was here because of a totally different reason?
Absurd.
It didn't distract from the fact that they'd torture her indefinitely for something she knew nothing about. No one who entered this prison left. It was inside the military base, beneath the shadow of the Phaedra's tower. The most secure facility in all the empire.
What about her friends? They'd never stop looking for her. Fearing for her. Especially not Elijah.
If the Phaedra didn't know about Kira's subterfuge, then she needed to do whatever it took to keep it hidden.
Life couldn't be over when people relied on her.
Plenty of people knew how to write news, but no one else handled the Pixi Dust. Kira may not know how the Old Ones created it, but she knew exactly how to make it bleed.
How to draw it out of hiding and do what the Phaedra claimed only he could do.
They spent three years planning and risking their lives for their next big move.
All this danger for it to unravel weeks before their big night?
She lodged her fist against her gut, desperate not to get sick again. Her stomach was rushing up her throat when she heard the handle of the door turn.
Instantly, Kira whirled around and flattened against the wall, fists clutched at her chest like she might protect her heart from whatever came next.
First, she saw a broad shoulder, straight enough to cut through glass, and then the door opened to a far sharper stare.
Eyes, as frigid and faintly blue as ice, drilled into her own.
Zayne Riven. Military royalty.
She grew up with pictures of the Rivens and the Phaedra in the children's home.
It didn't seem possible for the terror to grow, but it exploded now, and her knees buckled.
She clung to the wall like when the wind ripped at her from the edge of the building three years ago, certain that gravity—that this man—would throw her to her death.
That light, strange feeling of heights set the world around her in motion, spinning unsteadily, like the wobble of a top, moments from falling. What was one of the Riven men doing here, with her?
Kira was going to die.
Her eyelids fluttered, and she looked up at the light, holding on for dear life to keep from passing out.
The Phaedra called upon his inner circle to deal with her. Did that even happen to people?
A select few in the empire bore the Phaedra's seal on their forearm.
The shadowy ink tower represented his trust in that person and granted his full authority to them.
But she heard the Riven brothers were honored with a double seal, one on each forearm.
No one came closer to the Phaedra than they did.
No one other than their cold-hearted father.
Kira was trapped in a nightmare. Nothing else made sense.
What had her mother done to attract the attention of the Rivens?
“Kira Stiles.” A deep and crisp voice drifted to her, as cold and cutting as the rest of him.
Every sound he spoke was precise. This was a disciplined man.
One who strategically measured every moment, every decision.
Every single thing about himself, no matter how minor.
“My name is Sergeant Riven. I'll be your liaison in the prison.”
Liaison sounded too civilized a word. Kira looked into the eyes of power, and that was the moment she truly understood that nothing—absolutely nothing—would ever be the same.
Seeing Zayne Riven changed everything.
“You must have questions,” he said with a manufactured politeness she figured came from habit more than any respect for her dignity.
He waited for her to answer, but if she dared loosen her jaw, she might shriek. Instead, she averted her eyes and shook her head, unable to hide her fear. What was she supposed to do? Not even her masked stranger could help her here.
“There will be plenty of time in the future if you change your mind,” he said.
Plenty of time? Did he intend for that to sound so menacing?
“I'm obligated to ask if you've decided to share any information about your mother or the Followers, though you don't look ready to talk.”
Until today, she didn't even know Mom was alive. “I… I don't know anything.” She hated how pathetic her voice sounded.
“Of course, you don't.” He opened the door wider. “I'll escort you to your cell. Cuffs won't be necessary as long as you stay calm.”
Her gaze shifted to the handgun on his hip. An image of him drawing it shot a painful chill down her spine. He looked lethal enough without a weapon.
Kira didn't want to give him a reason to slap cuffs on her. No, thank you.
Instead, she followed him down a long hallway while he explained things that should matter but didn't. Meals, clothing, necessities that involved anything except what she actually needed. An escape. Or at least, answers.
With each step, her mind shrieked in a primal warning too deep for words, pounding at her with the weight of death.
Destruction. Doom. The cries inside swelled so loud that her ability to feel the danger snapped.
She felt herself detach, part of her floating away while she stared at the back of Zayne Riven.
“I'll come by most days,” he said.
Lovely. He looked like such great company. A really sweet guy, surely.
Kira bit her cheek, wondering if she looked at the man who would one day take her life.
“Panic kills.”
Right. Right. Panic killed. Or maybe Zayne Riven killed. He looked like he killed.
Her teeth cut into her cheek.
She noticed then that he limped significantly, but nothing about his voice or demeanor hinted to any pain. Kira had seen him in person a handful of times on stage with his family during events. There'd never been a limp, though. Was he injured? Or was this now permanent?
If she kicked him, she may find out. But then he'd cuff her. Or kill her. Probably kill her. Bad idea.
When they boarded the elevator and the doors closed, her knees went weak again.
Would anyone hear her if she screamed? It made no difference being trapped in the elevator with this man or walking freely down the hall.
But she couldn't breathe standing within arm's reach of Zayne Riven behind a closed door.
“What's going to happen to me?” She asked.
His impassive stare remained locked on the door. “That depends on your willingness to cooperate.”
Her voice cracked. “But I don't know anything.”
“There will be plenty of opportunities for you to serve the Phaedra whether you know anything or not.”
Heartless. He really didn't care at all about terrorizing her.
They finished the trip in silence until he showed her a small room with concrete walls and a tiny barred window that barely let any light in. One mattress, a toilet, and a shower. Her life narrowed to this.
“I'm needed elsewhere soon,” he said, breaking that tense quiet. “You're allowed ten minutes outside each day. We should hurry.”
Her teeth clenched. “I'm fine.”
What a stupid thing to say. Kira's skin craved the sunlight. She loved being outdoors more than almost anything in the world. Right now, though, she hated this man and this prison and this entire empire too much to take anything good from them. And she wanted to be anywhere but beside him.
Kira started for the room, but he slammed the door shut in her face.
“You won't be fine without your basic care regimen. This is not optional.” He nodded toward a door at the end of the hall. “Outside.”
As much as she wanted to lash out, she couldn't stop thinking about that gun or his cold stare or the thickness of his shoulders.
He was much stronger than her, and he looked like the type to take training too seriously.
Also, what an asshole. Kira shouldn't anger him further. No telling what he may do.
Biting her cheek, she trudged toward the door. When he opened it to the bright daylight, she tried with all her might to keep her body wound with anger, but the warmth and hope of a wide blue sky hit her like a physical force.
Kira stumbled out onto the small concrete balcony toward the fence encasing them, tears betraying her as she breathed in fresh air.
This was her only taste of freedom now, and she needed to protect every second of it, not abandon it for rage.
As hard as she tried to keep from crying, it rushed out. The outdoors always healed her. She gripped the rungs of the fence and looked out over the sprawling green field surrounding the prison. Sobs shook her shoulders.
Kira breathed in deep to keep quiet, but she only cried louder.
For a full minute, Zayne Riven stood quietly, until he spoke with a voice just slightly warmer than absolute zero.
“Here.” Footsteps.
She tensed as he eased behind her, casting his shadow over her. Fear burned a path along her skin at how his form dwarfed her. Kira wasn't short or tall, but she also wasn't slight. She definitely didn't think of herself as small. But he made her feel small.
Small and breakable.
A sob got stuck in her throat until she noticed that he offered her a cloth.
Shock hit her at a gesture of kindness. Sniffling, she took it from him, humiliated by losing control of her emotions.
His large hand gripped the fence beside her head, and he whispered nearly too low to hear. “The Phaedra wants me to convince you to trust me.” Breath fell against her ear.
Why tell her this? She turned to face him, too afraid to remain blind to any move he might make.
The nearness frightened her even more, though.
The scent of his skin, the closeness of a man with such an unyielding presence, piqued every alarm in her system.
Kira didn't think it was a good sign for Zayne Riven to get close to anyone.
“I don't need to try. I'm all you have.” He drew back just enough for his stare to pierce her own.
A dim hint of blue shone through the gray of his eyes, like a glacier hidden beneath fog.
Ice cold. The coldest she'd ever seen. “I'm a poison you'll beg to drink.” His utter contempt for her permeated his every word.
“Play along until you inevitably give in to me. You have no idea what I could do to you without anyone knowing.”
He slid back, but she couldn't suck a breath into her frozen lungs. His ice worked through her veins.
“Understand?” His guttural whisper sounded more like a groan than words.
No part of Kira wanted to surrender to his intimidation, but she needed to learn how to survive in this prison.
And it didn't matter that she wanted to be brave.
Needed to be the kind of person strong enough to withstand him.
Right now, with him close enough to leech every bit of warmth from her body, Kira couldn't speak. So, she nodded.
The cruelty dredged up memories she meant to lay to rest. Every time she'd seen a soldier strike an innocent person. Mock them. Kill them. He didn't see her as human.
That might be her only hope of survival. To find a way into his heart. But it felt impossible to find any decency in him.
Zayne Riven turned his back on her and stalked to the door. Expression neutral, with none of the intimidation from before, he nodded at the exit. “It's time to return to your cell, Ms. Stiles.”
Numbness replaced the cold. So much that she lost all feeling in her body as she followed after him, out of the sunshine, and into the dark of the prison.