Chapter 3 #2
But rest would not come until we were far, far away from this place.
“We expect daily reports from you,” Iaoth started, sliding potions toward us. Suspicion surged from my gut immediately. “Go on, take them. We’re not trying to poison you.”
When I still didn’t move, she huffed, reaching for one and uncorking it. She sipped off the top, smacking her lips. “See? Not poison. But it will heal your injury. Can’t have you going off looking like that. You’ll be useless otherwise.”
I barely managed to smother the flinch at that word.
Warily, I snatched the one my sister had drunk from, giving it a sniff.
It smelled exactly like the potions the healers had been giving Sylaira to accelerate her recovery.
Maelsar gave me a subtle nod. We both knew the risks of leaving without the use of my sword arm.
I downed the contents, nose scrunching at the taste.
Heat enveloped my arm, stitching muscle. The wound on my leg closed too, pain abating and allowing me to place my full weight on it.
Iaoth glanced at my shoulder, then continued with her tirade. “But don’t think for a second we won’t be comparing notes with those assigned to watch over Sylaira.”
My mate only glared at my sister. With her mind walled off to me, I could only guess at her thoughts. But the barely concealed sneer said enough.
“If you fuck up in any way, the royal sentinels have instructions to bring your mate straight to me,” Stadiel snarled, planting his knuckles on the table and leaning in.
“The slightest mistake. The tiniest omission. And should you try to run,” he chuckled, shaking his head.
“You may be regarded as the realm’s deadliest hunter, Vaeron, but my determination far outstrips yours. ”
Cages. Chains. That was all these two ever offered me.
A muscle jumped in my jaw as I fought not to let harsh words slip out. So through gritted teeth, I agreed to their terms.
“One last thing,” Stadiel said, and the malice that glinted in his eyes turned my stomach.
Doors banged open, and a stream of guards entered—weapons drawn.
My hand flew to my hilt immediately, but the potion hadn’t given me enough strength to yank my sword free.
Sylaira screamed as two males grabbed her. Another group surrounded Maelsar, his shouts ringing out.
The monarchs only grinned.
“What the fuck?” I demanded as Calrien and another one of my former crew flanked me.
“When I said the loser would have their magic bound, I meant it. You might have won the trial by light, but you lost all usefulness to us with your continued defiance,” Stadiel taunted, gesturing for someone in my periphery to step closer.
One of the healers who had aided Sylaira came into view, a spool of bronze thread in his hand.
I acted without thinking, weakness forgotten.
With a roar, I slammed my elbow into Calrien’s stomach.
He doubled over, a whoosh of air leaving his lungs.
The second snatched my waist, managing to force us both onto the table.
My hip collided with the hard wood, and I swallowed a hiss of pain.
I shoved at his locked hands, managing to break his grip and stumble away.
Until my mate shrieked my name down our bond. “Vaeron!”
I whipped my attention to her, finding a knife at her throat.
“Don’t you dare hurt her,” I growled, yanking on the threads of my magic. “Bind me. I’ll do whatever you want.” Raising my hands, I feigned surrender.
Calrien snatched the opportunity and wrenched my bad arm behind my back.
But the Command was already tearing from my lips.
“FREEZE.”
A shockwave of white rocked the room.
And crashed directly back into my chest.
Stadiel let out a low laugh. “Did you think I wouldn’t redirect your power back to you, Vaeron?”
I couldn’t even blink as he rounded the table, my previously discarded cuff in hand. He wasted no time snapping it over my wrist. Instantly, the thrall of my power vanished.
But the damage had already been done.
“Lay him out,” the Koron ordered. Calrien and the other slammed me into the table, flipping me so the edge dug into my spine.
I tried to lift my head, tried to get a glimpse of my mate, but Calrien smashed me back against the hard surface, light fracturing in my vision.
Maelsar’s rage began anew, and grunts and snarls rang out as they wrestled for control.
“Can someone please contain him?” Iaoth sighed like his fight was nothing more than an irritant.
They’d removed the shackles before only to let me heal my injuries from the trial. They’d planned on trapping me again all along.
Stadiel leaned over me, unbuckling the chest plate and then stripping my tunic open. The words carved over my heart burned with phantom pain as they were exposed to the air.
DUTY ABOVE ALL
A cruel, cruel inheritance from my father.
White power leaped out of males who had spent years under my command as we hunted Elessarum and Seers, binding me to the table.
And I was powerless to free myself.
The healer threaded the bronze strands through a thick needle, taking Stadiel's place over my head.
I’ll have nothing to protect Sylaira with when we reach the front.
That singular thought gutted me. Her hatred had renewed, and now I couldn’t even do the one thing that had gotten through to her the first time.
I was an utter fucking failure.
Why, Goddess, why?
The least I could do was save her from experiencing the agony of this punishment. I built a barrier of iron and stone around my mind, but before the last brick solidified, her low, melodic voice cut through my self-loathing.
“Don’t close yourself off.”
“I don’t want to hurt you more than I already have.”
“This isn’t your fault.”
“Isn’t everything?”
She didn’t answer, and that confirmation ached. But I lowered my wall anyway.
The sharp point flashed. I closed my eyes and waited for the bite of the tip in my flesh.
They would not pull a reaction from me and satiate their masochism on me. So when the needle dug into the scar tissue of the D, I refused to make a sound. Didn’t flinch as he traced a path all the way to the Y.
In and out.
In and out.
In and out.
A specter rose in my mind, a memory from long ago, when my father had carved the words into my flesh. To remind me that even though I’d accidentally consumed the magicked blood of a Demon, I still had to fulfill my promises as his heir.
Monster. Damned. Unloved.
Iaoth didn’t even need to voice them to control me. His wicked words drilled into my skull from beyond the grave.
I shut them out with the moment in the treetops when Sylaira had said she loved me too.
With the way I’d first claimed my mate. The intensity of my need for her.
The scent of crushed ghostflower in my nose.
Her silky skin beneath my palms, muscles taut from dancing.
How she’d screamed my name as she shattered around my cock. How she’d let me hold her after.
Would she ever again?
“It’s almost done.”
There she was again, and I wasn’t sure why. Did part of her still love me? Was it the bond refusing to let her abandon me too?
Whatever it was, I was grateful she wasn’t taking pleasure from seeing me suffer.
Something cold pressed to my chest, and I opened my eyes again.
The healer cleared his throat. “Those vials will mend the rest of your injuries since you no longer have access to your magic.”
I glanced down, finding more potions piled on my torso. With white around my limbs, I couldn’t snatch them.
“You’re dismissed,” the Koron snapped at him. With a quick bow, he scurried away.
Stadiel’s furious face eclipsed my vision. “I will be informed if you use your magic again. Should you remove these threads…well, you know what will happen.”
“I do,” I gritted out, nails biting into wood.
He stepped back, giving a nod to the males I’d led for years. Light slithered off of me, and I sat up, jerking my ruined tunic together and catching the healing potions. My fingers brushed over my mother’s necklace, and a modicum of relief washed through me. At least no one had discovered that.
Iaoth would only twist the meaning and weaponize it for her taunts.
I strapped my chest plate back in place, my focus trained on my movements. To lose access to my power—permanently—was worse than any torture I’d been subjected to before. I’d been stripped to nothing but my title, and fuck, my sister would probably take that from me too.
It was only a matter of time.
“Can we go now?” Each word bit out of me. I couldn’t stand to be here any longer, not as hot shame flooded my veins.
What was a male who couldn’t protect his family?
No longer was I a monster; I was the brittle echo of one, the shell left behind when it died.
“Those traveling to Eloi with you are already waiting,” Stadiel said, calm and collected like he hadn’t just stripped me of everything that made me, me.
I stomped forward, shouldering into Calrien for good measure. The guards stepped away from Sylaira. But I didn’t stop. Not for her. Not when Maelsar called my name.
Not until I broke out of the palace doors and stepped into the misty morning air.
I wanted to call on my wings and fly into the canopies. I wanted to stand atop the tallest peak in the mountains and scream.
But I could do none of that.
That soulless mask slid back into place. Beneath it now was utter emptiness; the male Sylaira had coaxed free vanished, disappearing into the dark. Yet no one had to know that. Not yet, at least.
Once we reached the front…
I gritted my teeth and shoved those thoughts away.
I couldn’t consider it—not now. My stallion pawed at the ground, churning the earth beneath his hoof.
As impatient as me to leave this Goddess-forsaken place.
I dug my boot into his stirrup and mounted him, slipping back into the skin of the Issaraeth.
And when I shouted to move out, the scrape of the words in my throat was a harsh reminder of who I would never be again.