Chapter 37 #3
The man clearly was no fool. He wouldn't just trust that I would keep this information to myself if I declined his offer. No. If Lucan was telling me all this, then he only planned for one of two things. Either I’d give myself to Draemor or give myself to death.
Despite my best efforts, the gash on my elbow continued to leak thick, crimson blood. If I needed to reach for my dagger—which seemed like a likely possibility—I would have to let the bleeding flow freely.
“And if I decline?” I asked, though I dreaded the answer.
Lucan's features contorted him into someone almost unrecognizable as he bent down in front of me again. This was not the man who had helped ease my nerves in the throne on my very first day here. This man was corrupt. Malicious.
“It would be very unwise of you to decline,” he hissed, his breath smelling like smoke when it slithered its way into my nostrils.
Although panic threatened to break my composure, I held on to every bit of it that I could. “I did not ask if declining was wise, I asked what would happen if I did,” I spat, causing him to abruptly pull back.
“Let me rephrase,” Lucan glowered at me while wiping the moisture off his face. “You are coming with me to Draemor. You can come willingly or forcefully. That, I’ll leave up to you.”
I'd hate myself for it later, but I considered the offer. I'd already been the cause of so much bad in Caelestis, and this could solve the problems of so many.
If I was gone, Sebastian wouldn't have to worry about watching over me.
He wouldn't have to kill anymore because of me.
Sawyer would no longer have to face the person who was vicariously responsible for the death of the woman he loved.
If I went, the lives of those I cared for would no longer be in jeopardy.
But there was also the possibility that nothing changed. Beaumont could still declare war and my loved ones could still be hurt even if I went with Lucan. Their best chance at survival was if I stayed.
The risks out-weighed the benefits.
“I'm not going anywhere with you,” I hissed at the traitor standing before me.
“Is that your final answer?”
Every cell in my body was soaked in adrenaline. I tried to tap into my magic, the task difficult under this much pressure. It was likely that the two of them had their shields up, but I was hopeful that I could break through at least one of them and get out of this without having to pull my dagger.
“Yes,” I grunted.
“Very well.” Lucan nodded at Calvin, who forced me to my feet by my neck.
Before I could react to the change of position, Calvin dropped his hand to my side, and my body recoiled at a stabbing pain, piercing between my ribs.
The knife cut deep, its lethal tip teasing my heart. There was a release of pressure as he pulled the blade out and my blood began to spill.
My eyes squeezed shut in agony, but no noise escaped my lips. I would not falter and show them any weakness.
“You may be the strongest in the empire with your gift, but even the power of a constellastone isn't invincible against magic suppressant,” Calvin whispered before releasing his hold on me.
The knife dropped to the floor with a clang, and my eyes darted to it, noting the deep green liquid of the toxin that dripped from the blade.
“Fuck,” I cursed. Within seconds, burning heat coursed into my blood, the sting sending every nerve in my body into overdrive.
My palms caught me when I fell back to the ground, fresh blood spurting from the hole in my arm as I removed the only thing holding it in.
I moaned in agony as the toxin circulated within me, and swore I could feel my magic disintegrating with each passing moment. Despite Calvin’s claim, I held my breath, biting back the pain of the suppressant and trying to summon my power.
It wasn't there. Not a shred of it.
There was no other option—I would have to fight my way out of this.
I released my breath and let the sting of the poison flow back in. I gave myself a moment to adjust to the pain, then used every ounce of my strength to block it out, needing to fight the ache just long enough to get out of here.
I pushed myself to my feet with my weak, paling limb, while using my good arm to reach for my thigh.
My fingers locked around the hilt of my dagger, and before anyone could react, I spun on my heel, swinging my blade through the air and slicing through Calvin’s shirt.
I curved my wrist sharply, gouging a chunk of flesh out of his bicep.
He cursed, and while preoccupied with pain, I swung at him again. This time I tore through his stomach, slicing through his navel deeper than intended. Layers of muscle snapped apart, yellow, fatty flesh peeking through the hole in his shirt.
Calvin growled as he stumbled back, clutching his abdomen. Plasma poured from him in an aggressive eruption, and if it weren't for his healing magic, he would have bled out within a minute.
My hand lubricated with my own blood as I clutched my side, putting pointless pressure on the hole between my ribs. The bleeding was thick and heavy, seeping right through the gaps of my fingers.
I was going to bleed dry either way, so didn't bother continuing to apply pressure. I dropped my hand and, while Calvin worked vigorously to heal the damage I’d done, put my attention on Lucan.
The king's poor excuse of an advisor didn't waste any time. I hadn't even taken a step towards him before he used his emerald magic to send vines twisting around my arms.
The creeping plant squeezed me so tightly that it forced my wrist open, and my dagger fell from my clutch. Lucan kicked it away and my eyes watched in panic as my only shot at saving myself slid across the floor.
Shit. And to think I really thought I was becoming skilled in combat.
Lucan then aimed his earth magic towards my legs, constricting my thighs with leafy green ropes. I tried to take a step forward, but he tightened his reins and I plummeted to the ground.
I narrowly avoided hitting my face, but Calvin—who was quicker at healing himself than I'd expected—came up behind me, slamming my head into the cement.
The bones in my face cracked against the cement as Calvin pressed his knee onto my back, holding me to the ground.
My ribcage was crushed by the force of the impact. The air escaped from my lungs, and the agony from the toxin was replaced by something much worse as I struggled to breathe.
Calvin jerked his leg back and forth, dragging my face across the rough stone. I screamed as my skin ripped, tearing in multiple spots, though I was no longer coherent enough to know where.
The soldier relieved enough of the pressure to allow me to look up into Lucan's slanted eyes. “You are making this much more difficult than it has to be, Maeve.” He snickered, a devious smirk pulling his lips up.
I could hardly see him through the redness coating my irises as vital fluid expelled from my skull. I raised a finger to my face, and gagged in response to a piece of hanging flesh on my forehead.
Dizziness overwhelmed me for a few moments, but I blinked through the tunnel of darkness—there was no time to show any weakness.
Lucan crouched down to where I laid under Calvin's hold. “Tell me. These visions you wrote about, has there been any truth to them yet?”
“Wouldn't you like to know,” I gargled through a mouthful of blood.
I needed a way out of this, though there weren't many options. My dagger was on the other side of the corridor, my magic inaccessible, and I couldn't move due to the two-hundred and fifty pound man on my back.
Despite my best efforts to stay awake, I bordered on the edge of blacking out. My face swelled rapidly and blood expelled from so many parts of my body that I’d surely be too weak to move any minute now.
I was going to die. Unless Calvin granted me mercy and healed me, but why would he bother? King Beaumont would rather me alive, but he didn’t need me to be. As long as he cut my gemstones out before their magic died with my vessel, he could access my power.
I tried one more attempt at fighting my way out of Calvin’s hold, but with no luck, I stopped moving, allowing my body to reserve any energy I had left.
Calvin sensed my retreat and moved his body off of mine. He grabbed me by the backs of the shoulders, and picked my limp torso off the ground, holding me upright as Lucan approached me.
“I was planning to keep you alive to use you during the battle, but I can reconsider. Stop fighting and come with me.” Lucan held a hand out to me.
Staring at it, I slowly processed what he was telling me to do, and used the last of my energy to clasp my palm around his.
Then I broke his fucking wrist.
My hand squeezed his in a death grip, and I jolted my arm to the right, snapping his in one fluid motion.
“You fucking bitch!” he growled out in anguish, clutching his wrist in his other hand as he gave Calvin permission to destroy me.
The soldier pulled me into his chest, turning me to face him just so he could slam me into the cement even harder than before. The back of my skull hit the ground, and I made out muffled voices as my head bounced.
The two of them stood over me, staring at my borderline lifeless body. I made out the glint of a blade hovering inches from my face. Lucan said something, but my ears rang so loudly that I couldn't make it out. Then, their eyes widened and their bodies vanished.
Shallow, labored breaths were all my lungs could expel as I choked on the metallic taste of my own blood pooling in the back of my throat.
I turned my head as much as possible towards the door, letting the blood dribble from my lips. My eyes settled on two pairs of dress boots, and I scanned up their owners' legs. The fog in my brain prevented me from putting a name to the faces, but I recognized the two men.
The one with darker hair approached Lucan and Calvin at once, blade extended. The other vanished, only to appear by my side moments later.
His mouth moved, though his words were unrecognizable. He gathered me into his arms, lifting me from the cement that was cooling the pain within me.
I didn't fight him—I couldn't move. I couldn't feel. Blood stung my eyes, so I let them close, succumbing to the darkness that had been trailing me.