And So The Storm Screams (An Age of War and Prophecy #4 | Mindbreaker Duet #2)

Chapter 1

Incandescence blinded me as I ripped back to the present. My mate held me, kneeling, his face ashen and jaw clenched.

“Sylaira,” Vaeron rasped, a relief in his tone that he didn’t earn.

Because he was the one who had forced me to See again.

I jerked out of his hold, chest heaving. My limbs trembled, weak and spent, and yet I managed to stay upright through the force of my fury alone. “Do not touch me!”

Around us, roars rose to a feverish pitch.

Memory slammed into me at the sound of the nobles’ jeers.

The trial by light.

The Issaraeth’s accidental victory over Herr Elyriane.

How Koron Stadiel had ordered his soldiers to seize my mate, shattering any pretense of divine fairness.

And how the Issaraeth, his best friend, and I had ended up in the center of the throne room, preparing to fight our way out. Maelsar stood, hands held high, with white magic pouring from his palms. The whirlwind around us held the royal sentinels at bay—for now.

“We have maybe thirty seconds before they overpower us,” he snapped, sweat rolling down his temples. “Make a decision, Vaeron!”

Rage stormed inside me, a tempest that battered against the confines of my flesh, as I glared at my mate. My fucking mate. The male who had sworn to protect me and then put me on the same path that had killed my best friend.

I let that insidious rot slither down our bond as he held my gaze. The love that had shone in his eyes upon my return from the future hardened into a glacial pool.

Good.

A dagger glinted as I stepped to the side, caged with the Issaraeth, just like in so many of my early visions of him. I snatched it off the marble. I had no idea how to use it, and for the first time in my life, I relished the weight of bronze-edged steel in my palm.

Without taking his sharp focus off me, the Issaraeth rose to his feet. “We still fight our way out of here. Iaoth can’t know that Sylaira Saw.”

I gritted my teeth and glared. How dare he use me for his own gain. He was no better than his sister.

A malignant question wrapped around my thoughts and squeezed.

Had I Seen exactly what he was hoping for?

That storm only grew as he adjusted his grip on the pommel of his sword. “Sylaira, please get between us. We can talk after we’re out of here.”

“You weaponized me,” I hissed, nails digging crescents into my palm. “You lied to me. Why would I ever do anything you say again?”

That cold, calculated male who had hunted me into the mountains emerged, shielding the real mate I’d briefly glimpsed beneath. His scowl brought back the moment our bond had snapped into place and I’d rejected him. The chain linking us thrashed as the Issaraeth retreated behind his own walls.

What a fool I have been.

That self-loathing was a blade between my ribs.

But I couldn’t deny that a real one would lodge itself in my lungs if I didn’t do as he requested. The monster I’d first known was good at surviving—as was I.

Fuck him. I snapped the connection between us shut and stepped into the eye of my storm where nothing could reach me.

“Vaeron!” Maelsar barked a warning, the shield of light dipping as a bronze sword cut through.

“Get between us. Now.” Desperation edged the Issaraeth’s voice as he snarled the order like I was one of his crew rather than his mate.

Behind me, white faltered. I leaped to the side mere moments before a blade slashed Maelsar’s magic. With my power unbound, my intuition screamed louder than it had in years.

Vaeron launched forward, sword raised to defend me. I twirled past him, finding a space between the two males. Heart thundering against my sternum, I raised the dagger like I had any hope of defending myself.

Metal clashed against metal, sending sparks flying into the moonlight. Half of Maelsar’s shield dropped, leaving a barrier only at our backs.

A cry rose and died in my throat as I faced dozens of guards, their sneers reflected in the thousand jagged shards of mirrors littering the ground.

Four lunged for my mate at once. Pain seared our bond as he stepped hard onto his injured leg to pivot beneath a mace.

Maelsar’s teeth gritted as warriors closed in on all sides.

He thrust his blade toward a sentinel who leaped for me, slicing deep into his abdomen.

Ruby spilled from the male’s lips as he collapsed to the ground, pressing into the wound like he could contain the flow.

The rest of Maelsar’s attackers watched on with blank expressions.

“Sylaira,” he hissed, “finish him.”

But I could do nothing but watch, paralyzed by horror, as the male coughed and attempted to rise.

A roar ripped my attention to the Issaraeth. I took a slow step back as he crumpled to the ground, cradling his arm. Blood poured from his shoulder like the waterfall I’d Seen in my vision. Only one guard remained above him, teeth baring with victory.

No!

“Stop!” I screamed, more instinct and insanity than fright. But the royal sentinel did not heed me, for he did not obey my command.

Agony ricocheted down our bond as Vaeron tried to raise his sword arm. A jarring, sharp pain shot through me, robbing me of air. Silver clattered against marble and broken mirrors, leaving my mate defenseless.

The half-dead male snatched my ankle, and I tumbled to the ground. With a cry, I wrenched my leg, freeing it from his bruising grip, and pounded my heel into his skull.

He went limp, and I scrambled backward, palms slicing on the edges of reflective glass.

And above, the Goddess Moon watched, distant and cold and judging even now.

The Issaraeth opened his mouth, air sucking into a single point of his throat.

“FREEZE.”

The warrior did—for the briefest of moments.

But a slow blink, the twist of his fingers, told me that all the hours Korona Iaoth had spent running him ragged had taken their toll.

He’d gone into the trial with little remaining in his well, and he had expended much of it pretending to fight against Herr Elyriane.

“Maelsar!” I shouted, but he was surrounded by a ring of blood-slicked warriors.

No one was going to save him. No one was going to save me.

The thought brought tears to my eyes. I’d known from the beginning we’d been doomed. I just didn’t think we’d end like this.

My mate’s magic cracked. The male stepped closer.

White detonated from me, flinging him backward. I ceased breathing as I stared at the male, waiting to see if he’d move again.

Why was everything I loathed—I feared—crashing into me all at once? I wasn’t a killer.

Goddess, don’t let me be a killer.

The Issaraeth’s focus snapped to me. Our eyes locked, two souls bared to one another, a mirror of the moment our bond had solidified.

“You have to fight. Get up and don’t back down.”

I wasn’t sure if those words were meant for him or me; they slashed deep cuts into my heart—deeper than the ones he’d already put there with his betrayal—all the same.

Steel flashed, and I raised my dagger like I was going to throw it at the warrior who would not relent his attack.

“You bitch,” he snarled.

The blade weighed in my palm. His death would stain my soul. But if I didn’t act, the Issaraeth and I wouldn’t see the sun rise.

My arm twitched forward–

But my fingers opened of their own accord and the dagger clattered to the ground.

With a rough laugh, the guard snatched Vaeron by the hair and hauled him to his feet. I screamed for Maelsar, only to find him between two of the sentinels he’d been battling, arms pinned behind his back.

And the remaining one was coming straight for me.

I scrambled backward, the bites from broken mirrors forgotten as terror flooded my veins.

But there was no escaping this fate.

When he captured me, the nobles cheered.

“Bring the traitors here,” Stadiel boomed, his voice so loud, so echoing, it pricked my eardrums. The aftereffects of my Sight still lingered, every sense amplified tenfold.

The Koron towered over the room, chest heaving and eyes soulless save for his unfettered fury. Knots twisted in my gut when he placed a hand on the hilt at his waist.

This is it. This is our end.

Bronze cuffs snapped over our wrists before the three of us were dumped at the monarch’s feet.

“Sylaira.” My name was a harsh command in the Issaraeth’s raw tone. “Follow my lead. We will not die. I have a plan.”

“Awfully bold of you to be asking me to trust you again.”

I cut off the flow of him again before he could feel the agony of what he’d done through our bond. He’d told me he loved me, given me the ring of House R?viel, only to keep lying to me.

The shackles bit into my skin, even sharper than a sword. I gritted my teeth and returned to that nothingness. None of the people around me deserved an ounce of my emotion.

Korona Iaoth rose, coming to stand beside her husband. Her diadem glittered with false divinity. She insisted everyone refer to her as Her Radiance, a reflection of our Goddess.

Yet these two were the true evil that walked this earth. Not the Demons. Not the three cousins who ruled in their realm. Iaoth and Stadiel and the new holy order they’d woven into the fabric of our society were the triumvirate of malevolence.

And I would shout it with my last breath in a desperate prayer that someone in the crowd might hear and act against the crown.

Fingers threaded in my hair and yanked my head up, forcing me to look into the Koron’s ice-blue eyes. Tears pricked the back of my nose from the pain in my scalp. But I was powerless once again.

There’s nothing I hate more than being helpless.

Regret settled like a heavy stone in my belly.

“The Goddess has passed her judgment,” Stadiel said, his attention on us while he addressed the room. “House Elyriane was in the right of this conflict. For that, the head of House R?viel, the Issaraeth, will have his magic bound.”

Conflicting shouts erupted behind us.

“That’s not what I saw!”

“House R?viel must pay for its slight!”

“Zarethiel didn’t win the trial!”

“Bind the Mindbreaker!”

The Koron’s face only twisted, darkening with red. “Silence!” he ordered, and a hush captured the room. “I am your ruler. The Goddess works through me as much as any priestess. She told me Her judgment after the Issaraeth attacked our holy warriors.”

Even through the blinding light of the trial, I knew, and everyone else knew, that my mate hadn’t swung first.

With bated breath, I waited for more protest. The silence was swollen, suffocating, pressing into me from all sides. The hot drops of blood from my injuries were the only movement in the room.

But no one spoke against their Koron.

No no no no no no no…

Cowards. Every last one of them. The maelstrom inside me roared for release. Because these two didn’t rule only from belief; no one was brave enough to object.

Iaoth rose, attention locked on her brother. Her skirts pooled around her as she knelt in front of him. His lips curled back from his teeth, vicious and feral. Like the monster he’d always been.

She tsked, almost pouting as she gripped his chin and studied her brother’s face. “Our father was always right about you. Such a failure. You couldn’t even protect your mate.”

Ice-cold rage trickled down our bond.

“Fuck you, Iaoth. I’m glad he married you off before you came of age. No one would have wanted you after they learned you were barren. Had he known that prior to his death, he would have been ashamed to call you his daughter.”

She flinched back like she’d been slapped.

Maelsar snorted to my left.

Iaoth whirled on him. “And you,” she hissed. “You have shamed House Caerelith with your actions.”

He said nothing, merely kept his wry grin, like he thought we had a way out of this Goddess-forsaken situation.

Footsteps slapped the ground behind us, but I was powerless to turn my head.

A masculine voice drew Iaoth and Stadiel’s attention. “I will deal with my son.”

Maelsar stiffened at the sound of Kisst Caerelith’s voice.

“I think not,” Stadiel said, his fingers tightening over the hilt. “For his crime of treason, he will be executed. As will the Issaraeth. Sylaira is too powerful to surrender to the Goddess yet.”

Nausea churned in my gut. I could live without my mate, but it would be a horrible, empty life. Our bond would wail for weeks, if not months, agonized and aching. As would I—and I hated that crack in the armor I’d strapped onto myself.

“I request a pardon for him. He knew not who he followed,” the Kisst replied, his voice far stronger, far steadier, than mine would have been. “I will ensure his mind is straightened out, Your Grace.”

Maelsar’s head dropped, and I attempted to peer at his father from the corner of my eye. His tormented expression reminded me so much of the moments before I fled the Elessarum stronghold and left my parents behind. My mother’s mouth had held that same weight, that same sorrow.

“No.” Stadiel’s word carried the weight of his position, final and absolute.

A gasp ripped through the crowd. But it didn’t frighten me nearly as much as the growl that rumbled in my mate’s throat. The hairs on the back of my neck rose. Every sense went on high alert.

Stadiel whirled on the Issaraeth then, dropping his voice so only we could hear his next words. “It’s a shame that you had to try to fight your way out of here. If you’d knelt at my feet and begged forgiveness instead, I would have let you live—until you were killed on the front.”

The scrape of the sword against the scabbard screamed in my ears.

A sob caught in my throat. The metallic tang of blood curled in my nostrils, acrid and choking like my body was preparing me for what would happen next.

Stadiel stepped forward, malice rolling off him in sickening waves.

The sentinel holding Vaeron threw him onto his hands and knees.

Maelsar roared, surging to his feet, only to be tackled by two guards.

Silver glinted in the pale moonlight as Stadiel swung. Steel sliced the air.

And words ripped past my lips.

“I had a vision of the end!”