Chapter 31
Rhea
Iwake to darkness. The transition from palace floor to black confines is disorienting. My head throbs with each heartbeat, a dull echo of the earlier agony. How long was I unconscious? Hours? Days? I climb to my feet slowly.
Flickering torchlight reveals iron bars separating me from freedom. A prison cell. Again. The King showed his true colors after all. But how did they get me here without Zephyros destroying the palace? I reach for our connection. It’s open, but still muffled. What in all the hells?
Movement outside the bars catches my attention. A figure approaches—tall, elegant, with white hair held in precise braids. Recognition slams into me like a physical blow.
“Tahranis.” The name escapes my lips before I can stop it.
He smiles, amber eyes reflecting the torchlight. “You remember my name. Good. But call me Tahr.”
“Hard to forget the man who kidnapped me.” My voice is raw, throat parched. I look down. My leathers are torn, battle stained. I frown.
Tahranis carries a wooden plate heaped with food.
There’s roasted meat glistening with fat, vegetables in vibrant colors, bread that steams in the cool air, and a generous pat of butter.
The smell makes my stomach clench painfully.
How long since I’ve eaten? The jerky in the woods. I shouldn’t be this hungry.
He slides the plate through a slot in the bars. “Eat. You need your strength.”
“Is it poisoned?” I ask, even as my fingers twitch with the desire to grab the food.
“If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t have woken up.” He hooks his thumbs in his trouser pockets, causing his long fur-lined coat to open wider, revealing a sheathed dagger at his waists and a stretch of smooth, pale chest. The casual display of skin feels deliberate, calculated.
“I have something to show you,” he says, his voice soft. “Something you’d love to see.”
“You have nothing I want to see.” I spit the words at him, though my eyes betray me by lingering on his exposed skin.
He laughs, the sound rich and warm despite our surroundings. “Such fire, Omneira. I thought you would be thus.”
“Don’t call me that. My name is Rhea.”
“That’s just the name they gave you.” Tahranis leans closer to the bars. “But I know who you really are. And soon, you’ll know too.”
I step forward, grab the plate, and pull it toward me, if only to have something to throw at his smug face. “The only thing I want to remember is how to get out of here and back to—”
I stop myself before saying Vaylen’s name. Better Tahranis doesn’t know what matters to me.
“How was the King involved in my kidnapping?” I ask, balancing the place in my hands. “Why did you take me? Where have you brought me?”
Tahranis examines his fingernails as if I haven’t spoken.
“Answer me!” I slam the plate against the stone bench to my right. A chunk of bread bounces toward the bars. My patience snaps like brittle kindling. “What does Craven have to do with this? What is this about?”
Nothing. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment crosses his face.
Fine. If he won’t answer, I’ll find help elsewhere.
I close my eyes and reach for the familiar thread of my bond with Zephyros again.
I push my thoughts outward with all my might, but nothing gets through the thick fog that lies between us.
I push harder, straining until my temples throb and sweat beads on my forehead. Nothing still.
“Don’t strain yourself,” Tahranis finally speaks, his voice smooth as silk. “From here, you won’t be able to reach that dragon.”
The way he says that dragon—like Zephyros is somehow beneath him—makes my anger flare.
“Where is here?” I launch myself at the bars, gripping them so tightly my arms tremble. “Where have you taken me, you arrogant prick?”
Fear claws its way up my throat. Without Zephyros, I’m half a person. Without him, I’d rather die.
“What have you done to my dragon?” My voice cracks. “If you’ve hurt him—“
“Your dragon is fine, I suppose,” Tahranis cuts me off. “He simply can’t hear you anymore.”
“What do you want from me?” I slam my fists against the bars, my knuckles splitting open. “For the last time. What does the King want? Answer me, you pompous ass!”
Tahranis continues examining his nails, completely unmoved by my outburst. His gaze doesn’t even flicker toward me.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you!” I scream, my voice bouncing off the stone walls.
Nothing. It’s like I’ve become invisible, inaudible.
I grab the plate and hurl it at the bars. Food scatters across the floor, but Tahranis doesn’t flinch as gravy splatters his pristine coat. He simply stares through me, as if I’m not even here.
Wait.
The realization crawls up my spine like ice water. This isn’t right. The torchlight doesn’t flicker naturally. The shadows don’t move. And Tahranis... he’s too still. Too perfect.
I press my palms against my temples as a wave of dizziness hits me. My vision doubles, then clears. The cell walls waver like heat rising from summer stones.
“This isn’t real,” I whisper.
The words trigger something. The cell darkens around the edges, and suddenly…
“This already happened,” I realize with dawning horror.
This is a memory. A vision of my time beneath the mountain, dragging me below the surface like an undertow. I struggle against it, fighting to stay present, but the memory pulls harder. I’m slipping deeper into the past, watching myself interact with Tahranis, seeing what happened after he took me.
“No,” I gasp, clawing at reality. “I need to wake up. I need to get back to—”
But it’s too late. The present fades as the past claims me once more.
“Eat,” Tahr insists, gesturing at the plate. “You must be hungry. It’s been two days.”
The food sits before me—roasted meat glistening with fat, vegetables in vibrant colors, bread that steams in the cool air, and a generous pat of butter. The smell makes my stomach clench painfully. How long since I’ve eaten?
Tahranis steps closer to the bars, the torchlight playing across his features. “Are you certain you don’t want to see what I have to show you?” His voice drops to a silken purr. “I promise you’ll find it... illuminating.”
The way his gaze lingers on my face makes my skin feel too tight, hot and cold at once. A curious mixture of revulsion and fascination washes over me.
“Enough games,” I snap.
I thrust my hands forward, calling on my wind power. My fingers tingle with anticipation… but nothing happens. The air remains still, unresponsive to my command. Again I try harder this time, straining until veins stand out on my temples. No Wind Blast comes.
Tahranis clicks his tongue against his teeth. “That’s not going to work here either, Omneira. Save your energy for more... productive pursuits.”
“What have you done to me? My powers—”
“Are merely dormant.” He turns away, coat swirling around his legs like liquid shadow. “I’ll return when you’ve calmed yourself. Perhaps then you’ll be more receptive.”
“I’ll never be receptive to anything from you!” I yell at his retreating back, frustration boiling over into rage. “Do you hear me? Never!”
Only silence answers as he disappears into the darkness beyond the torchlight.
I jolt from sleep as Tahranis appears again at my cell door. He peers at me with those unnerving eyes of his, causing my skin to prickle. I have no idea how long I’ve been here. Hours bleed into each other in this windowless prison.
This time, he carries a tray arranged with steaming porridge topped with honey and berries, fresh bread slathered with butter, and what smells like spiced cider. My stomach growls traitorously.
“You didn’t touch your dinner,” he observes, glancing at the untouched food. “A pity. It was prepared specifically for you.”
“I prefer not to eat anything from kidnappers,” I snap, though my mouth waters at the aroma. “It’s a personal rule.”
He pushes the tray through the slot. “Starving yourself won’t change your circumstances.”
Days pass in the same pattern. Tahranis brings food three times daily, making the same offer. “Come see what I have to show you.”
Sometimes Fern—face smudged with dirt—peers from behind his coat, studying me with suspicious eyes. She never speaks, just watches, like I’m some exotic creature in a menagerie.
I reject them both, throwing insults instead of accepting nourishment. But my strength wanes. My stomach aches constantly. Dizziness comes in waves.
On what might be the fifth day—or tenth, who knows—Tahranis arrives with a plate of roasted meat that makes my knees weak with hunger.
“Still refusing to see what awaits you?” he asks, eyes gleaming. “Such stubborn pride.”
I stare at the food, then at him. My options are clear: continue this futile resistance until I’m too weak to stand, or play along and watch for an opening.
“Fine,” I say, voice raspy from disuse. “Show me whatever ridiculous thing you’re so desperate for me to see.”
A smile blooms across his face, sweet as wine laced with something wicked. “I knew you’d come around eventually, Omneira.”
I take the plate, my fingers brushing his. “Don’t call me that. And don’t mistake cooperation for surrender.”
His laugh echoes in the confined space. “I would expect nothing less from you.” He winks. “I’ll come back for you once you’ve eaten.”
I devour the food like a starving animal, dignity be damned.
The meat is tender, perfectly seasoned, and I tear into it with my fingers, licking them clean between bites.
My body practically sings with relief as I fill the hollow ache in my stomach.
When I drain the last drop of water from the cup, I feel almost like myself again.
An hour later, Tahranis returns, face etched with satisfaction when he sees the empty plate.
“Ready for your... tour?” He leans against the wall, infuriatingly casual.
“Just open the cell,” I growl.
He clicks his tongue. “A word of warning first. Don’t waste energy trying to escape. These mountains would swallow you whole. You’d never find your way out in a thousand years.”
“Worried I’ll run?” I challenge.
“Worried you’ll get lost.” His certainty makes my stomach clench. “The paths change. The tunnels shift. Only those who belong here can navigate them.”
A chill runs through me.
Tahranis unlocks the cell with a key he takes from his pocket.
He steps aside with a flourish, like a host welcoming an honored guest rather than a jailer releasing his captive.
I step out slowly, every muscle tense and consider my options.
Fight, flee, or follow. With my powers mysteriously absent and no knowledge of where I am, my chances don’t look promising.
“After you,” Tahranis gestures down the torch-lit corridor, smirking as if he can read my calculations.
I glare at him, imagining how satisfying it would feel to gouge his eyes right out of his arrogant face. The fantasy must show on my expression because his smirk deepens.
“Such fire,” he murmurs. “I do enjoy that about you.”
“Let your guard down and you’ll see exactly how much fire I have left,” I spit, even as I move past him into the corridor.
He chuckles deep in his throat. “I’m counting on it, Omneira. I’m counting on it.”
At the name Omneira, something inside me snaps. White-hot rage floods through me, washing away all caution and calculation.
“I told you not to call me that!” I whirl around, fingers curled into claws, aiming straight for his eyes.
Tahranis moves fast, catching my wrist before I can gouge them out.
His grip is iron, but his smirk never falters.
That arrogant, self-satisfied look feeds my fury.
He doesn’t notice my other hand. Doesn’t see it slip to his waist where his dagger sits in its ornate sheath.
One swift movement and the blade is mine.
Before he can react, I’ve pressed the cold metal against his throat. The sharp edge kisses his skin, and a thin line of crimson appears beneath it. His eyes widen—just slightly—before his expression smooths into practiced nonchalance.
“Your true nature reveals itself,” he says, voice maddeningly calm despite the dagger at his throat. “Beautiful.”
I press harder, drawing another bead of blood. “Show me the exit. Now.”
“Or what? You’ll kill me?” His lips curl into something between a sneer and a smile. “Then you’ll never find your way out of these mountains.”
“I’ll take my chances with the tunnels,” I hiss, my face inches from his. “Better lost than your prisoner.”
His eyes flicker with something. Amusement? Admiration? I can’t tell, and I don’t give a fuck.
“The exit,” I repeat, twisting the dagger just enough to remind him of its presence. “Or I open your throat right here and paint these lovely tunnels with your blood.”
He tilts his head, careful of the blade, studying me like I’m a fascinating puzzle. “You won’t kill me.”
“Try me.” My voice is deadly quiet, my hand steady. “I’ve killed before. What makes you think I won’t add you to the list?”
“You won’t kill me,” Tahranis repeats, his voice suddenly shifting, becoming a warm caress across my consciousness, gentle and soothing like Zephyros’s mental purr when he’s calming my fears.
Except this isn’t my dragon. This is my kidnapper.
My fingers tingle where they grip the dagger. What’s happening? Why does his voice feel like honey pouring through my mind?
—You won’t kill me. The words echo inside my head this time, not spoken aloud. My grip loosens involuntarily. Horror floods through me as I watch my own hand betray me, returning the dagger to its sheath at Tahranis’s waist as if it never left.
“What did you just do?” I stumble backward, panic rising in my throat. “Get out of my head!”
Tahranis touches his neck where my blade pierced the skin, examining the blood on his fingertips with mild curiosity. “Impressive resistance. Most minds yield immediately to my suggestion.”
“You’re a Weaver.” The realization sluices over me like ice water. “But that’s impossible—“
“Impossible?” He laughs, the sound sharp as jagged rocks. “Because you thought you were the only one? Because they convinced you Weavers are monsters who deserve execution?” He steps closer, and I force myself not to retreat. “They lied to you, Omneira. About everything.”
“Stay back,” I warn, though my voice shakes. Without the dagger, without my powers, I’m defenseless against whatever abilities he possesses.
“I won’t hurt you.” His gaze ensnares mine. “I’ve waited too long to find you.”
“Find me for what?” My back hits the wall. Nowhere left to go.
His fingers brush my cheek, feather-light. “To show you who you really are, to begin anew.”
I slap his hand away. “Touch me again and I’ll break your fingers.”
Tahranis grins. “There she is. The fire they couldn’t extinguish. Come, Omneira. Your destiny awaits.”