Chapter 50
Chapter Fifty
Nienna
Ihad always imagined the Velli as monsters, but I never truly understood the full being of their horror, the way it moved and breathed and fed.
Tallon brought me to a dining hall where the scent of roast meat clung thick as smoke.
Fat hissed over an open flame somewhere beyond my sight.
Heat pressed against my face. The air tasted of iron and char, metallic and sweet, coating my throat until I swallowed against it.
The only green in the room came from wilted herbs strewn over slabs of red meat, a mockery of balance. No fruit or bread. No softness.
He meant to retake Radaan. And his heir… would belong to Vellos?
I sat beside him, spine stiff, poking at my plate so it would appear disturbed. My fork scraped porcelain in small, deliberate arcs. I lifted nothing to my mouth.
From the pointed glances he cast toward my untouched food, he knew. Of course he did. It was a strike. Petty. Useless. The only sliver of freedom left to me, my only way to rebel against this carnage.
And it was carnage.
Many of the Velli didn’t eat at all. They only watched. I couldn’t tell the difference between the sects at first glance, yet the divide pulsed through the room like a fault line. One branch existed as fuel, offered up and drained. The others prowled, power-hungry and ambitious.
We had entered in the middle of dinner, though it felt endless, stretched thin and eternal.
Two men brawled in the center of the hall, boots skidding across stone slick with something dark.
Their bodies blurred in motion, fists cracking against bone.
They wasted their power, spending it in a show of power.
Around them, the Velli gorged.
No clothing marked rank. No sleeves, patches, colors.
Nothing to distinguish predator from vessel.
Yet it took only a breath to see it. A Velli would shove someone back by the crown of their forehead, pointed teeth flashing as they sank into their exposed throat.
They drank deep, jaw working, then tore away with a gasp, head tipping back as though savoring wine.
Laughter burst and echoed off the high ceiling.
Others wandered toward the center of the room where a waist-high railing encircled a massive hole.
Its depths swallowed light. Velli staggered there on uneven steps, hands braced on metal slick with old stains.
They reached down their own throats and vomited blood into the darkness below.
The sound came wet and violent, bodies heaving until emptied.
When the spasms ended, they wiped their mouths with the back of their hands, crimson streaking their chins, and turned to find another to feed off.
It was terrifying. I sat tucked between Tallon and Egath, caged by their presence, and that felt safe in the most warped sense of the word.
I knew this evil. Tallon wouldn’t rip out my throat.
That would be too merciful. No, he would draw it out.
Humiliate me. He would make a spectacle of me every step of the way.
“Prince Tallon!”
My muscles seized. I forced myself not to bolt as a tall Velli with short curls approached. His skin gleamed under torchlight, eyes bright with something fevered. “I’ve not met the Fortune.”
“Uzair, he’s not interested in sharing.” Egath snarled, draping an arm around my shoulders. His grip seemed almost possessive, territorial.
I tightened my hold on the fork, weighing my options. Could I plunge it into someone’s eye before they ripped me open? Would it buy me minutes? Seconds? Would seconds matter? The urge to lean into Egath’s side disgusted me. Survival carved its own instincts into me.
“But he shares with you?” Uzair’s gaze slid over me, assessing.
“Not her.” Tallon set down his utensils with quiet precision. Metal clicked against ceramic. My attention snagged on the knife near his hand. “I’ve shared with him, though. A woman back in Radaan.”
My breath snagged. Gayle. The image of her battered, broken body rose sudden and unwanted.
“Come challenge me, Ichor to Ichor!” Uzair struck his chest, teeth flashing red as he grinned.
“Mind games?” Tallon asked, voice almost bored.
“Tallon, reserve yourself,” Egath hissed.
A mistake. The bastard prince was a spoiled brat who balked at every order. He did not take instruction well. He glared at the ambassador, pride blazing hot. Then his hand clamped around my arm and hauled me upright.
I snarled and fought him, thrashing. “Let go of me!”
He pivoted to face me. His hands slid to my cheeks, thumbs pressing into my jaw. I recoiled, but his grip tightened, fingers digging into bone.
“No.” His smile sharpened.
He dragged me after Uzair toward the wrestling circle, Egath trailing behind.
The crowd buzzed, energy crackling. Apparently, Tallon using his power was a rare phenomenon, and rarity bred hunger. He sat me down, then covered my hand with his. Heat bled through his palm. Uzair’s brown eyes gleamed as another man lowered himself at his side.
Then I saw it—what marked them apart.
Scars.
Uzair’s throat lay smooth and unmarked. But the man beside him wore a necklace of pale crescents. White half-moons dotted his skin from collarbone to jaw. He might have been smiling, but he bore the proof of teeth.
He was one they fed on.
Tallon drew a dagger. Steel whispered free of its sheath.
He didn’t have fangs.
Uzair seized the scarred man by the hair and shoulder, jerking back to expose his throat. His teeth sank into that familiar patch of skin. Crimson pooled at the corner of his mouth before he pulled hard, swallowing long, heaving gulps.
My body jerked with a gag. The world tilted.
The scarred man’s gaze found mine. His head tipped to the side, almost inverted, lips parted in a strange, slack smile.
Tallon rolled my wrist in his grasp, and I tried to pull free. I had to try. I would not offer myself without resistance.
“Tallon, don’t.” The plea scraped raw from my throat. I hated this paralysis, this inability to do anything. I stood no chance. No one here would intervene.
“Egath, please.” I leaned away from Tallon and into him instead.
“Relax. I’ve got you,” he murmured, just low enough to reach my ear.
A shudder passed through me as Tallon dragged the blade across my skin. Pain flared, bright and thin. Scarlet welled before spilling over, sliding toward my elbow in a warm line.
He lifted my arm. His tongue traced the path of blood upward, rough and dry, like a cat’s. When his mouth closed over my wrist, dull teeth pressed and bruised. I yelped and twisted, but Egath’s arms cinched tight around my ribs, pinning me.
Uzair laughed into his victim’s throat, gaze locked with Tallon’s.
Tallon’s smile curved as he drew from me again, swallowing. My stomach roiled, threatening to heave. Yet I couldn’t look away. Once their eyes met, both went still. Two predators measuring distance before the strike.
A hush rippled outward. Bodies climbed over benches for a better view. Wood creaked under weight. Breath held.
The only movement came from Tallon’s throat as he suckled at my wrist like an infant at a breast.
My head spun. The torches smeared into streaks of gold. He was taking too much.
I tugged weakly at my arm. “Stop. Tallon, please.”
He didn’t.
Cold crept inward from the wound—a chill unlike any other. It burrowed into marrow, hollowing me out. No warmth answered it. I trembled against Egath, seeking heat from his chest, but frost had already settled beneath my skin.
I blinked—and he was gone.
But Uzair stood alone.
Then Tallon materialized behind him, dagger driven into his throat. Steel vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by Tallon’s mouth before my hand even dropped to my lap.
It was vulgar. That was the only word that fit. A chain of mouths. Three bodies in sequence, each draining the next.
My vision narrowed. Strength slipped from my limbs like sand through open fingers. I sagged against Egath.
Across the room, through the blur, I saw Deimos watching. A slow smile curved his mouth as pride lit his face.
Then the dark took me.
When Egath left me in bed, gratitude hovered at the edge of my thoughts like something shameful.
His arms had held me upright while Tallon fed.
He had steadied my head when the room tilted.
Kindness? Or loyalty to his Fortune? The questions circled, slow and venomous.
Isolation warped the mind. Walls pressed close.
Silence stretched. Perhaps they wanted me to cling to Egath, to choose the lesser cruelty.
The servant returned with a tray. Meat steamed in dull slabs. A tin cup of water sweated onto the metal surface. The scent turned my stomach. I refused both with a shake of my head.
She did not argue. She stood near the bed, hands folded, gaze lowered. The only comfort she offered lay in the scarred crescents around her throat. Proof she was prey, not predator.
When morning light seeped through narrow windows, and dust motes drifted in pale gold shafts, I tried to rise, intent on dressing in the black gown from before. The floor swayed when my feet touched it. My legs buckled. Weakness hollowed me out, a reminder of what had been taken.
I burrowed back under the furs.
The servant slipped out—and when she returned, Egath trailed her quiet steps.
He sat at the edge of the bed and studied me, green eyes bright against his dark hair. So much like Tallon’s.
“You must eat. Tallon pulled too much from you.” His voice lowered as he brushed hair from my temple. “The meat will replenish you. Drink some water, and you’ll feel better.”
“I don’t want to feel better.” My throat scraped raw.
“Would you rather perish?” His head tilted, curious. “What of your husband? You were so determined to hold out for his rescue.”
My eyes snapped open, and I pushed onto one elbow despite the wave of dizziness that followed.
“Ah, there’s that plucky girl I once knew,” he said, a short laugh leaving him. “Perhaps he will soar over the Craggs on dragonback. Or claw through the collapsed tunnel we used. You would not want him forced to carry you out. He should fight with both hands free.”
“What do you know of his plans?” The words burned.
Mirth danced in his gaze. He enjoyed the reaction. Every word had been bait. He was toying with me.
The door slammed against the wall. Egath and I turned as Tallon strolled in, another Velli trailing behind him with a metal contraption braced in his arms. A hose coiled from its side. A grinder jutted from the top.
“You did not tell me she was awake, Egath.” He sighed, exaggerated disappointment curling his mouth. “One might question your allegiance, cousin.”
Cousin.
The shared coloring, the mirrored eyes. Of course.
“I serve Vellos,” Egath replied, rising.
“And Vellos serves me.” Tallon slid into the space Egath vacated, settling onto the mattress. “How are you this morning? Have you eaten?”
“I wouldn’t eat if it–”
“Excellent.” He clapped once, delighted. “Shall we?”
The servant stepped forward with the machine. Metal clinked. The faint scent of oil reached me.
“There are other methods,” Egath said, retreating to lean against the dresser, arms folded.
“Ah yes, you’re right, of course. But this is more educational.” Tallon’s grin sharpened. “Nienna, would you prefer I cut you again and rummage through that stubborn mind of yours to compel obedience?”
The room spun as I pushed upright and edged away from him.
“I’d say that’s a no.” He gestured for the servant to come closer.
“What is it?” My voice thinned. I drew my knees to my chest and wrapped the blanket tighter around my chilled skin.
“A marvel,” Tallon replied. “You see, there are some Velli who, like you, refuse to eat. Pride. Principle. Melodrama. This persuades them otherwise. This economy runs on blood—we can’t let it go to waste.
You are a special case, of course. We need that womb of yours, so naturally we need you alive. ”
The servant fed cooked beef into the grinder. The crank turned. Meat shredded with a wet grind, transformed into a thick paste. Water splashed in. He stirred it with a metal rod until the mixture thinned.
“I refuse.” My head shook hard enough to make the walls sway. “I won’t let you.”
“She won’t let me, she says,” Tallon jeered, then shifted onto his knees. “Egath?”
“No!” I lunged—
But Egath intercepted me before my feet found the floor. My back struck the mattress with a thud that jarred my teeth. His weight pinned my arms above my head. His gaze locked with mine, not cruel, not kind. Resolved.
“Do not make this worse,” he said.
“Please.” Tears burned hot against my skin. “Don’t do this.”
The servant approached with the hose.
“I have always wanted to see this,” Tallon mused, breath bright with anticipation. “Egath described it, but this is so much better.”
Hands seized my face. Fingers pressed into my cheeks, forcing my lips—my jaw—apart. I clenched my teeth. My body bucked. Tallon lost his balance, freeing one leg. My heel caught him hard. He cursed.
The servant forced the tube into the corner of my mouth. Rubber scraped against enamel. I sucked in a sharp breath through my nose before fingers pinched it closed.
Panic detonated in my chest.
I thrashed, twisting, every muscle straining against Egath’s hold. Air thinned. The tube slid deeper, gag reflex erupting. My throat convulsed around the intrusion.
It would not stop.
The paste flowed through the hose. Warm, salted flesh hit the back of my tongue. I choked as it poured down, unable to spit, unable to swallow properly. My body betrayed me, muscles working to survive even as my mind screamed.
Tears blurred the ceiling.
Kallias, find me!