3. DEEPLY BURIED
Chapter three
DEEPLY BURIED
Yaz, the head soldier of Blackstone, laid out the feast before the cave mouth, as he usually did.
"How is he? Did you catch a glimpse of him?"
The voice startled Yaz, and he whirled around, hand instinctively moving to his sword.
Wegai stood on a rock several feet away, watching him. Had his thoughts been so consuming that he'd failed to notice being followed?
"Lower your guard, Yaiz'vlion. I am not the enemy," the grand king's head soldier said, making no move to step closer.
"Do not call me that," Yaz growled, casting one last glance towards the cave. Then he stalked towards Wegai, every sense alert. "What are you doing here? It was reckless to follow me. If I'd sensed you in the woods, I would have nailed you."
"I’m well aware. Which is why I was careful."
From a distance, they might seem like brothers. Same height, same breadth, same warrior's bearing.
Wegai’s scars were worn on his face from countless battles, while Yaz bore his hidden beneath layers of armor and cloth.
Their masters shared a bond deeper than most, and while they had fought side by side in many wars, they were not friends—just two head soldiers bound by duty.
Yaz relaxed his stance first. "What brings you here, Wegai? I doubt you trailed me to make small talk."
"No, I did not." Wegai began to walk, Yaz falling into step beside him. "I spent all morning beside my master." Wegai’s jaw clenched. "I lose him more with each passing day."
Yaz’s eyes flicked back to the cave. His own master nestled in there.
Wegai stopped, abruptly. "We need to get the females back."
Yaz said nothing, nor could he feign surprise. The thought had tormented him for years.
But thinking it was one thing. Acting on it was another.
"We cannot do that, and you know it. Lord Zaiper would never allow it."
"Lord Zaiper does not need to know."
"That in itself is preposterous," Yaz scoffed. "We cannot consider something of that magnitude without authorization. The consequences would be—"
"Lord Ottai," Wegai cut in. "He is still a ruler. He can help."
Yaz had considered this too. "And if he does not?"
"We do it anyway."
“Such a move is delicate,” Yaz said. “One wrong move, and we’re playing right into Lord Zaiper’s hands. He’s been waiting for a reason to get rid of us."
Wegai stared at the distant mountains, their peaks covered in mist. "I cannot let this continue. We lose them more every day. Who am I kidding? We have already lost them. Now we grasp at straws."
Yaz didn't argue. Wegai was right.
His master had fought valiantly, clinging to the promise he'd made to the grand king. Yaz had witnessed it all: the suffering, the resistance.
But it hadn't been enough. When the will to live flickers and dies, life itself becomes a fragile, elusive thing. His master, though not yet fully feral, was… not himself either.
"They were better when the ladies were here," Wegai continued. "They might not have shown it, but our masters cared for the slave princesses. They are an essential part of all of this. We should have never let them send them away."
Yaz cast a sideways glance at him. "You say that as if we could have done anything about it. You are forgetting something vital. Those ladies were freed . They are no longer slaves. The first time they were brought here, they had no choice in the matter. No human returns to Urai of their own free will, especially not ones who suffered as much as the slave princesses did."
Wegai fell silent.
"Your master's female had it worse," Yaz finally muttered. "During her last days here, our people tried to kill her. Everyone hated her. She had to be surrounded by troops to leave the city safely."
"That was two years ago. Things are different now. Our people have more to worry about, like their daily bread." Wegai turned to face him. "We have to do this, Yaz. We have to try. Yes, all may not go well, there may challenges, but we do not run from fights."
Wegai extended a hand. "What do you say, head soldier of Blackstone? Are you in?"
Yaz met his gaze, resolve in his eyes. He clasped Wegai's hand in a firm grip. “I am.”
***
Mistress Sinai stood in Grand Lord Zaiper's study, her fingers trailing lightly over the large desk covered with maps and scrolls as she waited.
The soft ticking of a grand clock in the corner caught her wandering eyes, then the bold paintings on the wall and the collection of ancient artifacts displayed in glass cases.
"If it isn't our beautiful mistress," Lord Zaiper's voice shattered the quietude.
Plastering a practiced smile on her face, Sinai turned to face him. "Your Highness."
"To what do I owe this pleasant visit?" Zaiper stood before her, amused.
She batted her eyelashes. "Can't a female decide to visit her favorite ruler every once in a while?"
His chuckle vibrated through the room. "I thought Daemonikai held that title?"
"He did." She shrugged, reaching for the wrapped offering she'd dropped on his desk. Lifting it, she presented it to him with a flourish. "I had my servants prepare your favorite meal. I hope you like it."
Zaiper's brows shot up in surprise. "A meal too?" He took the package, sniffed it appreciatively, then placed it back on his desk. "I hope all this is not about that land beyond Crystal Waters?"
"Does everyone know about this?" Sinai huffed, sullen. "Yet, no one wants to let me have it."
Zaiper shook his head, moving to lean against his desk. "That's because it's between you and Daemonikai. He promised it to you; when the time is right, he will let you have it."
"It's been six centuries!" Sinai's voice rose in frustration. She wanted to scream, to throw something. Anything.
That land was her key to untold wealth and power. Why wouldn't Daemonikai release it to her?
By now, she would have built an empire. Perhaps even become the wealthiest mistress in the kingdom. "Surely you could release it to me?"
"I could. But it wouldn’t come easy." Zaiper crossed his arms lazily. “Tell me, shouldn't you be more worried about Daemonikai's well-being now, instead of a mere piece of land?"
"He is a handful, losing himself to grief. He is not the only one who lost loved ones that night."
"Mmm." Zaiper stroked his imaginary beards. "He is the only one that lost all at once, though."
"Look at you, living your best life," Sinai said bitterly. "What was supposed to be a ‘little collateral damage’ turned out to be the biggest problem of mine."
Zaiper's amusement vanished, and his face turned cold.
"We swore never to bring that night up again.” His gray eyes were pools of black rage. “We vowed never to discuss it."
"I apologize, Your Highness," Sinai backtracked. "Please, forgive me. I spoke carelessly, without thought."
"It's never too late to start thinking. You do not wish to do it beyond the grave, do you?"
Her blood froze. Did he just threaten me?
"You know what happens if what happened that night comes to light, do you not?”
"I do." Sinai could not bear to think about it. "Please, forgive me."
"Be careful next time, Sinai." His words dripped with menace. "There are things that should remain buried. Things that should never be spoken of…"
Fear chewed at her from the inside. "Fine, fine, I s-said I was sorry."
Zaiper stepped very close, only a breath separating them. He caressed her neck, his hand closing around it. He didn't squeeze, but the pressure was unmistakable.
"Vladya is gone. Daemonikai will soon be gone too. Ottai is merely a wind I could blow over, then I become the sole ruler. A place where even the truth cannot hurt us, for I could easily make it disappear. We are almost at the end, Sinai. Let's keep it that way."
"I will, I will," she croaked, nodding.
"Good." He released her, his smile returning. "Now, let's talk about the price for that land."
***
Three days later. After morning training, Emeriel freshened up quickly before making her way to the breakfast table.
Emeriel's muscles still ached, but she welcomed the burn. It was the only thing that felt real these days.
The large wooden doors creaked as she entered the dining hall. Aekeira was the only one seated, sipping from her cup.
"You’re here, Em, take a seat," Aekeira said warmly, gesturing to the chair beside her.
Emeriel’s jaw clenched, resisting the urge to lash out. It wasn’t Aekeira’s fault the name she’d called her all her life now stirred memories of slavery and Urai.
"Where is the king and Daviel?" Emeriel asked in a clipped voice, sinking into the seat.
"The king had an early court session, I think. And the prince?" Aekeira gave a half-hearted shrug. "He’s probably still in bed."
They ate in silence. The food tasted like sawdust, but Emeriel forced herself to swallow. Everything tasted like ash these days.
As they were about to leave, the door opened. King Orestus strode in, his guards flanking him.
"Is everything alright, Your Majesty?" Aekeira inquired, her brow furrowed.
The king hesitated. His hand twitched at his side as he looked at Emeriel before shifting his gaze to Aekeira.
The tyrant king ruled with an iron fist. He rarely looked this… anxious. Something was wrong.
"Emeriel, Aekeira—" he cleared his throat "—I hope you weren’t… uh… upset about, you know, what happened in my study the other day?"
"About the letters?" Aekeira sounded bewildered.
"No, not the letters." Orestus shifted awkwardly. "The part where I lost my… um… temper. I want to apologize for that. About… saying I would crucify you for the secrets you hide… I didn’t mean it."
Emeriel's patience snapped. "Okay, what the hell is going on?"
Years ago, she never would have dared to speak to the king in such a manner. But years ago, she had cared about things like decorum and respect.
These days, she could barely care enough to drag herself out of bed.
"What is happening?" Aekeira asked.
"They are here.” The king looked downright terrified.
"Who is here?" Aekeira’s voice dropped to a whisper.
Time stretched and distorted as Emeriel’s heartbeat pounded in her ears. Then she stopped breathing entirely. Surely he doesn't mean…
"The Urekai. Three in number," King Orestus said at last. "They are here to see you two."
Aekeira gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.
But the sound seemed far away, muffled. The world tilted on its axis.
Emeriel’s hearing was replaced by a rising, high-pitched ringing, drowning everything else.
No. No. Not them. Not here. Not now.
The dining hall blurred. The table, the walls, even her sister… everything receded into the distance.
Or was she falling back? Emeriel wasn’t sure anymore. When had she stood up?
"Em?" Aekeira’s voice was faint. She saw her sister’s mouth move, her lips forming her name, but it didn’t feel real.
Aekeira was pale. Too pale. The color drained entirely from her face, leaving her whiter than a vampire. So, this isn't a dream.
They are here.
Emeriel stumbled backward until she slammed into something solid—a wall, maybe—but she barely registered the pain.
Her breaths came in shallow bursts. No, no, no…!
Thoughts slipped from her grasp. Limbs sluggish, like she was wading through thick mud. She had to run away.
"Em!" Aekeira was suddenly in front of her, pulling her into a fierce hug.
Emeriel recoiled.
Too close.
Too crowded.
She didn’t want to be touched. Couldn’t handle the closeness.
But Aekeira didn’t let go. No matter how hard Emeriel pushed, her sister’s grip only tightened.
"What is happening to her?" King Orestus’s voice was distant. "Do I need to call for the medicine man?"
"You are okay, Em. You are fine," Aekeira soothed. "I’m here. I’m not letting go."
Small, pitiful whimpers came. Hers.
Emeriel bit down on her lip and shut everything out. The voices. The world.
All that existed was her fight for breath. The burning in her lungs as her body shuddered in sync with Aekeira’s.
Time stretched on.
Endless.
Suffocating.
But slowly, Emeriel felt the ground return beneath her feet. The ringing in her ears faded, the world around her slithering back in a slow return.
"I’m fine now," she croaked."You can let go, Keira."
Her sister released her, tears tracing paths down Aekeira's face. Her eyes searched Emeriel's. Probing. Looking for signs that all was truly alright.
Emeriel averted her face. Don’t look at me like that. Don’t look too closely.
She hadn't had an attack this intense in years. Way too long.
"Please… send them away." Small, hoarse, barely her own.
"Em…"
"No.” Her voice gained strength. “They should go."
"Let’s at least hear why they’ve come.”
If Emeriel shook her head any harder, her neck would break, and her head would tumble down her shoulders. "I don’t want to.”
"You don’t mean that—"
"I don't want to see them. I don't want to know why they are here. I want them gone ." Her voice rose, high-pitched, and panicked again.
Aekeira wiped her tears, nodding slowly, though her eyes remained filled with sadness. "It's okay, Em. I understand. You don't have to see them if you don't want to."
"You can go see them if you want." Emeriel's tone turned brittle. "But promise not to tell me a thing when you return. If you return. I don't wish to hear it."
"Why wouldn’t I return?"
"If you decide you wish to go back to Urai, I don't need to know,” she said in a flat tone. “I don't want to know. You could go with them."
Aekeira flinched, hurt flashing in her eyes. "You don't mean that."
"I do! Leave me alone!" she shouted.
Aekeira reared back like Emeriel had dealt her a physical blow. The pain in Aekeira’s eyes burned into Emeriel.
Stop. Stop hurting her. It’s not her fault.
You never hurt Keira.
The guilt surged, drowning Emeriel.
But she slammed it down, burying it deep beneath the cold wall.
Emeriel let the ice seep into her being. Cold was safer. Cold meant survival.
Squaring her shoulders, Emeriel turned and walked away.