Chapter 29
Soren was strapped to a wooden chair when she came to, a gag in her mouth.
She blinked a few times, finding herself in a nondescript tent, empty aside from the chair facing her.
She screamed once into the gag, letting the sound echo down the pathway in her mind that connected to Vane, Thessa, and Heles.
You are breathing. She swore there was relief in Thessa’s voice.
Soren tried to focus on taking slow inhales and exhales around the gag. Where is Vane?
We cannot reach him. Moments ago, you were dark too. We are being kept with the other dragons. They sense something is amiss.
Thessa’s voice grew fainter until Soren could no longer hear her at all. She reached for the dragons, for Vane…
Only swirling, opaque shadows greeted her.
There had been a space inside her that had always felt empty and lost. Finding Vane and the dragons after so many years had finally shown her what she had been searching for.
But now, the space was empty again, or perhaps blocked somehow.
Even her magic felt faint, and she had an inkling that though she might still be able to weaken someone, she could not slip them into Death’s grasp.
The flap to the tent opened, and King Johannas and Commander Eton entered, trailed by Cion. The princess looked freshly washed, dressed in clean flight wear, but her face was lined with uncertainty as the commander approached Soren, a tiny dagger in his hand.
“You should have followed orders,” Commander Eton said, cocking his head at her, a slant to his brow. “We can still work together, you know. You and Evva just need to cooperate, and no one has to get hurt any more than they already have.”
Soren struggled in the chair. What had they done to him? She had no idea how much time had passed since she had lost consciousness. Based on the lack of light beyond the tent, it could have been minutes or hours.
“Remove the gag,” Johannas ordered.
The commander raised a brow but obeyed. Soren gasped, sucking down the air greedily. It hadn’t exactly been easy to breathe around the cloth.
“Where is he?” she snarled.
“Alive.”
Both men looked to the corner where Cion stood, hands folded in front of her.
Her expression didn’t change, not even when her father narrowed his eyes on her. “Watch and observe, Cion. Do not speak to the prisoner.”
“Ah, so I’m a spectacle now?” Soren challenged.
The king moved towards her, a slow smile spreading over his face.
“You once tried so hard to blend in amongst the other slaves in my palace. You never succeeded, though, and not just because of your appearance. My wife sensed your power, though she did not understand it, and used it to her advantage. That should have been my first clue. But she has picked up many talented assassins over the years, so I chose to ignore it. The moment I let you taste what power could look like, though, I began to wonder. I may not have magic, but my father and his father before him did. That kind of power leaves an imprint…a feeling. And when yours rose, I sensed it.”
“The day you told the princess she would marry Prince Kellmere.” Soren met his hooded eyes. “You looked at me in the council chambers.”
“Observant,” the king mused. “I told you, Eton.”
The commander bowed his head. “I picked up on as much over the past month.”
Soren grasped inside herself for a hint of power strong enough to at least knock the three out. But whatever had a hold on her, blocking the magic and Vane, tightened its grip. It was as if a hand was wrapping around her neck, slowly squeezing.
“Missing something?”
She flashed her gaze to the king. “How?”
“With some help from a friend?”
“Anabeth can’t do—”
The king laughed. “No, no, the ‘scribe’s’ daughter has been detained. She was becoming difficult.”
Soren glanced at the corner where Cion stood. “Father?” the princess whispered. “What are you talking about? What did you do to Anabeth?”
Johannas sighed. “Ah. I forgot about your little dalliance with her. I would have assumed that would have run its course by now. She is not who you think she is.”
“She would have told me.”
Johannas rolled his eyes. “Because you think she loves you? Is that it? Gods and their kin are hardly capable of such an emotion. They may claim to be, but what they truly crave is power.”
“Anabeth isn’t…” But Cion trailed off when Johannas raised his hand to silence her.
“The proposal I offer still stands,” the king said, looking squarely at Soren. “Serve me, win the war, and you go free.”
Soren’s smile was bitter. “There is no freedom for me, not while Kronos lives. And I think you know that. I won’t waste time killing for you.”
“So you can spend your time finding ways to end him?” Johannas murmured, leaning down to look directly at her.
When Soren didn’t reply, he straightened. “Fine, then. Come inside, Vane.”
Soren’s breath caught as the tent flap turned back and Vane entered. He was armed to the teeth, wearing leather flight armor just like Cion. His eyes were red-rimmed and his jaw was tight. She met his gaze, but he didn’t react, the pathway connecting them still dark.
“Vane,” the king said in a light voice, “I want you to torture her. Ah—wait. Let’s be more specific. Break her left pointer finger. We’ll start there and go on if we need to.”
Vane took a step closer to Soren. She held on to his dark eyes, even as he reached for her hand, his muscles so tense, it looked painful.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “I know you said you could fight it around me, but if you can’t…it’s okay.”
“Sora,” he said through clenched teeth, closing his eyes. “Do you remember the first time we kissed?”
Commander Eton glanced at Johannas, but the king merely waved his hand and muttered, “He can’t resist it, not now.”
“The memory is hazy,” Soren said quietly but quickly. “But yes.”
Vane was holding her hand now, his grasp tight but not hurting, not yet. “Tell me.”
She shut her eyes even as he put pressure on her finger. “It was warm, that’s what I remember most. The color of the wheat, the late afternoon sun, and feeling in my chest. I remember thinking I hadn’t felt that warm in all my life.”
The pressure increased, and tears pricked at her eyes. “I knew it was wrong, what could happen to you if anyone found out, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop.”
“Why?” His entire body was shaking with restraint when she opened her eyes to look at him.
A tear ran down her cheek, and he shut his eyes tightly. “For the first time in my life, I was choosing something. It was reckless and dangerous, and yet, in that moment in the field, I had never felt safer.”
Vane exhaled sharply, eyes flying open. “Together,” he breathed. “Always.”
“Together,” she vowed, the promise resounding with every frantic beat of her heart as he released her and whirled.
Commander Eton stepped in front of Johannas and the princess, two swords in his hands. “I thought you said you had complete control over him!”
Johannas, for once, looked shocked. “I do. That shouldn’t be possible.”
Cion glanced between Soren and her father before ducking past Vane’s raised blade and hissing, “Who is Anabeth?”
“Cion! Back away. Now.”
But she ignored her father, dagger in hand just above Soren’s wrists. “Tell me, and I’ll let you go free.”
“She cares for you, Cion. That part isn’t an act.”
“Who. Is. She?”
Soren curled her fingers as Vane swung at the commander, who sidestepped the blow. “Her father was a mortal man long dead, and her mother is Juno, the goddess of the fates. She was my best friend a long time ago. That’s why she was punished too.”
Cion’s green eyes shone with tears, but she nodded once and made quick work of Soren’s restraints. “Go. I’ll try to hold my father off if Vane can take care of the commander.”
Soren grabbed her hand, brow creased. “Why?”
“You could have hated me all your life,” Cion whispered.
“But I could see it in your eyes… You are kind, Soren. Anabeth and her father—or whoever they are—taught me that a world withers when ruled by corruption, no matter how powerful. I believe you, and if what you say is coming arrives, you’ll have a mortal princess at your command. ”
“Soren!”
She let go of Cion’s hand at the sound of Vane’s voice. He was breathing heavily, poised above the commander, his sword pointed at his heart while King Johannas held a dagger to his throat. A bead of crimson dripped down his pale skin.
Death comes in many forms, goddess.
Heles’ voice was faint, but the words were clear enough that Soren understood what she had to do. She just needed a moment of focused power; that was all it would take. Reaching inside herself, she ripped open a cell door and destroyed the key.
No more locks or barred doors.
She needed everything she had if this was going to cut through the invisible hands gripping her power like a vice.
Johannas pressed the dagger firmly to Vane’s skin, and she screamed, opening her palm.
A flash of razor-sharp shadow rushed from her, sliding past the king’s throat.
He choked on the blood that bubbled up, and Soren fell to her knees.
Cion cried out behind her, and Vane shoved his blade into the commander’s chest, his eyes ablaze with rage.
But when he turned to face the princess with his bloody sword, Soren ordered, “Don’t touch her. ”
Vane met Cion’s eyes. In another life, they could have been related. Vane had always claimed to not know who his mother was, but perhaps there was some blood shared between them. And now, Cion, as heir apparent, held control of his life.
“Go,” she choked out. “I meant what I said to Soren. You are both free of your duties.”
Vane didn’t wait a second, lacing his fingers in Soren’s and tugging her past the bodies and out of the tent.
“Thessilnn and Heles are waiting,” he said breathlessly. “But we need to hurry.”
“Right,” Soren said. The world was becoming hazy again. It must be the hunger or dehydration. She could make it…