Chapter 1
ERIK
The guard stood before me, a silent sentinel amidst the dimly lit dungeon.
He might have been mistaken for a lifeless statue if not for the steady thud of his heartbeat and the faint scent of sweat clinging to him in this suffocating stone enclosure.
Unlike his talkative comrades before, this particular Bavadrin did not offer a word.
His silence hinted at a mind that functioned beyond mere idle chatter. Though I suspected it to be of small intellect, it was the brain of a Bavadrin, nonetheless.
With a deliberate glare, I turned my full attention to him, a mixture of boredom and curiosity pushing me to test his reactions.
My lip curled, revealing the sharp canines beneath, a wordless threat hanging in the air.
Despite my attempts to unsettle him, his heartbeat remained steadfast, his demeanor unwavering.
The fool believed himself safe on the other side of these bars, unaware that I allowed them to confine me here, allowed them to continue drawing breath.
With a huff, I stretched out on the hard stone bed, closing my eyes to the darkness that surrounded me.
The sound of water dripping against distant stone provided a maddening backdrop to my thoughts.
Drip, drip, drip, followed by a pause, then another drip.
It seemed like a symphony of relentless madness, each drop echoing through the damp dungeon.
Time crawled by excruciatingly slowly, dragging its feet like an old, tired beast. With every passing minute, my thoughts continued to darken.
At first, memories of my people, my family kept me satiated. But as the minutes stretched into hours, the thoughts took a sinister turn. I found myself crafting elaborate fantasies of ways to torment the guards, whose presence only added to the rank stench of the prison.
In the recesses of my mind, I could almost hear Edmond, one of my brothers, scolding me, “Now Erik, remember why you’re here.”
For my people, for my sister, I reminded myself, repeating the words like a mantra. They were a flickering light in the darkness of the cell, a reminder of the precious reason I endured this. For my family, I would endure anything.
The scowl of the guard staring at me chiseled away at what little patience I still clung to.
I turned my gaze to him, and he did not look away.
Either he was brave or stupid, and I was inclined to believe the latter.
He leaned his broad frame against the wall, his golden eyes filled with an unmistakable hatred that seethed from his very pores.
There was something unyielding about the angles of his face.
I studied him, imagining the ways I could end the guard’s life if given the chance.
Perhaps I would allow him to fight me, to see how many breaths it would take for him to realize his mistake.
Despite his size and strength, his Bavadrin blood did little to match my stamina and agility.
He was a lion in appearance, but a lamb in reality.
The thought amused me, a dark smirk crossing my lips as I entertained the notion of his futile attempts to best me.
For my people, for my sister.
Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, trying to find some semblance of peace in the damp, heavy air. An irritated sigh passed between my lips. Time passed, marked only by the slow, methodical rhythm of my breathing and dripping water.
The voice of the previously mute guard cut through the air, though he did not speak to me directly. “You should not be here.” His voice carried a stern edge of disapproval.
“It’s fine, Willis,” a female responded, her tone confident but betrayed by the quickening of a nervous pulse that I could almost taste in the air.
The guard offered no reply, yet his own heart quickened. While he may not have feared for himself, he seemed concerned for her.
Footsteps approached until they halted at the edge of my cage. The newcomer made no sound as she stood there, no doubt observing me. A scent of wildflowers wafted from her, a stark contrast to the dungeon’s dank odor. I wondered if her nose stung from the acrid stench of this place.
Minutes passed in silence as her gaze wandered over me, a hot coal on my skin. Interest piqued, I finally opened my eyes to meet hers, sitting up to face the girl.
She appeared younger than I expected, her delicate frame and green eyes taking me in with an analytical gaze.
It was likely she had never encountered my kind up close before.
Her brown hair, half braided with ribbons, added a touch of strange beauty to her.
The flickering candlelight cast a warm glow on her tawny golden skin as she met my gaze with unwavering curiosity.
For a long minute, we held each other’s stare. If her visit had a purpose, she gave no indication, and I grew bored once more, the newness of her presence quickly growing stale.
“What is a girl like you doing in a place like this?” I finally broke the silence, my voice a low rumble.
Her eyes flicked to my mouth, noting the teeth that could easily rend flesh. Squinting, she met my stare again, questions evident in her expression. Yet, instead of voicing them, she remained silent, her thoughts a mystery.
Just as I was prepared to dismiss her as another semi-mute like the guard behind her and recline once more, she spoke.
“What’s a male like you doing in a place like this?” Her question was bold, using my own words.
I couldn’t help but smile at her audacity. Suddenly, everything seemed more interesting. If nothing else, this interaction promised to pass the time. Lysians, such as myself, were creatures of freedom, not meant to be caged, and her presence was as unexpected as it was intriguing.
“I believe I asked first.” My lips curved upwards.
“Curiosity,” she answered with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulder. “You?” Her shoulders remained squared, chin held high.
“Your people brought me here,” I replied casually, making a show of looking around the sad dungeon before refocusing on her.
Her narrowed gaze revealed her dissatisfaction with my response. “What were you doing stepping over the border?”
“Curiosity,” I echoed, enjoying the distraction of the girl.
Her sharp green stare continued to unflinchingly hold mine, even as she said, “You’re lying.” Her tone far too certain.
The girl’s intelligence surprised me, and I found myself studying her more closely, wondering who this Bavadrin was who dared to venture into this dungeon.
Her clothing was not flashy, yet exceptionally well-made: trousers, which formed to her slender body, and a top that also looked as if it were made for her flesh only.
Breezy, dressed for comfort, not battle or labor.
From what I saw of their people on my brief trip through their little city, most wore far simpler clothing.
Dressed like that, I knew she came from wealth and privilege.
The fact she could come to see me in the dungeon told me she must also come from a family of power.
Only one family could show up to a place like this and feel so comfortable. They had to own it.
“Careful, princess,” I warned. “You don’t want to call a beast a liar.” My voice dropped, tone darkening. I was curious about how easy it might be to make her uncomfortable. What does your fear smell like?
She kept herself impressively composed, giving nothing away except for the flutter of her heart when she first entered the dungeon.
The guard behind her, however, revealed his surprise at my use of the word princess.
The Oracle had foretold that the Bavadrin leader had but one child, and here she stood before me, a fawn in a wolf’s den.
She had nothing protecting her except for a treaty that would soon not matter.
My heart thundered with the knowledge of my proximity to a Bavadrin with such status.
She stood in the palm of my hand. I could crush her with a quick close of my fingers.
Excitement spiked at the possibility, and I had to pull back.
I was here for a purpose, to fulfill a duty that extended beyond my own desires.
I could not be the one to break the ancient treaty first.
The girl did not give me the pleasure of a response to my comment.
“Why have you come to the border?” she pressed on, her fearlessness both admirable and foolish.
Rising from my stone bed, I approached the bars that separated us, towering over her smaller frame.
She observed my movements while taking in my size.
Uncertainty briefly flared in her eyes, a glimmer of vulnerability beneath her brave facade.
I took in her scent, committing it to memory, the smell of a field of wildflowers.
Now, when the city burned, I could find her.
That was if she even survived. I hoped she would.
The offspring of the Bavadrin’s current leader could be a valuable asset to possess.
“Can you smell fear, or is that just a legend?” she boldly asked. So far, she was proving herself to be far too confident for her own good. Her question too was somewhat troubling.
It disappointed me that the Bavadrins appeared to not tell the terrible tales of the Lysians.
They were stories I never thought would fade, for we certainly still told stories of her kind.
The Bavadrins who twisted the minds of their foes, and whose arrows bent the wind.
If her ancestors had continued to speak of the legends of the Lysians, then perhaps she would have been wise enough to be uncomfortable when in proximity to me.
My lips curved at her curiosity. “It is true.”
“And your hearing? How good is that?” she inquired, green eyes sharp.
Well, if her kind did little to teach her of my strengths, then I could shed some light.
Hopefully, when the Bavadrin capital fell, the wisdom I provide would be enough to encourage her to give herself up without trying something stupid and getting herself killed.
I wondered how bold she would be when the roles were reversed, and she was the one in a cell and I on the other side with a key.
Would she then regret what her father and people had been doing all these years? Was she in on the schemes as well?
“Your guard’s heartbeat has picked up since you came down here, and now even more so since I approached you.” My gaze drifted to her neck, the tender flesh there, before rising to meet her eyes. It was intended as a silent threat, one she undoubtedly noted but did not respond to.
She nodded, her brows briefly drawn. I tracked her movements as she licked her lips and paused.
Clearly, she wanted to say something. My head tilted in wonder at what questions burned in her now, the ones that caused her to hesitate.
Would she continue our conversation, or would she be silenced now?
Her inquisitiveness won over. After a brief moment, she spoke but asked no questions.
“You would have heard the guards approaching. With the direction of the wind that day, you would have smelled them before they ever even saw you,” she told me, a hint of accusation in her voice.
She was unexpectedly perceptive, quickly becoming more of a threat than I had anticipated. A simmering anger rose within me, both at her boldness and at myself for allowing her to draw me into this web of conversation. Bavadrin indeed.
Glancing at her delicate throat, I imagined how easily I could end her life with a single stroke. But the treaty held me back, invisible chains binding me to this cell. Soon, those chains would break.
A growl rumbled in my chest, something that she seemed unfazed by.
“What is your name?” she asked, her voice steady despite the tension between us.
Another grumble was my response, a warning.
She looked nearly disappointed that I didn’t give it. “Very well. Have a good night, Lysian,” she said, turning to leave as suddenly as she had arrived.
The anger slowly receded as I watched her go.
How sheltered she must have been to possess such certainty in her safety.
Had she no knowledge of the dangers in the world she lived in?
If she had then there would have been more caution and fear within her when I drew near.
I doubted she would last in the ruins of her world.
Despite her sharp mind, I was convinced that she would get herself killed. I nearly felt sorry for her.