Days of Vengeance (Vines & Venom #2)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Ladon

“Emilie,” I choked out, reaching toward her.

My limbs were so heavy, and it took an unfathomable amount of effort to grab her hand.

Her eyes tracked my movement, but the rest of her body remained deadly still.

Blurry figures circled us like predators ready to pounce, but the only face I could focus on was hers.

“Help,” she said, wincing as though the words caused her pain.

I tried to move closer, to wrap my arms around her, but my feet were stuck to the floor, held by some magical force I couldn’t fight. The harder I tried, the farther away she seemed to appear.

“Help,” she cried again.

“I’m trying,” I said, but the words were silenced as soon as they left my lips.

It was like an invisible barrier had separated us and muffled my speech.

Her figure turned distorted, like I was watching her through a rainy window.

The need to reach her burned inside me, but I had no control over my body or my voice.

There was nothing I could do but watch her slip farther away.

Those blurry figures began to swarm her body, and although the image was distorted, I could tell they were touching her. Tormenting her and violating her. Things I swore I’d never allow to happen to either of us ever again.

But I was helpless to stop it.

“Don’t touch her!” I mouthed to no avail.

An unsettling chuckle sounded from behind me. I couldn’t turn to see, but I knew who it belonged to.

“Reyna,” I growled. “Let her go.”

“I’d much rather watch. Aren’t you enjoying the show?”

My hands clenched at my sides and I strained against the invisible hold on my body. “I’ll kill you.”

“Tsk, tsk. I would’ve thought you’d learned not to threaten me. Perhaps it’s time I taught you what happens to my untrainable pets.”

She snapped her fingers, and a warm sensation rushed through my veins and spine. The weight returned to my limbs—control over my body was mine once again. I bent my arms just to be sure before I sprinted toward the invisible barrier that separated Emilie and me.

I only made it two steps before my feet stuck to the ground again, almost causing me to topple over. Glancing down, I saw black vines growing out of the ground. They wrapped around my ankles and slithered up my legs.

I tugged and twisted, fighting their hold, but they continued to spread, sprouting thorns as they did so. The thorns pierced my skin, but I blocked out the pain. It didn’t matter if they tore me to pieces; I had to reach Emilie.

As the vines wrapped around my waist, the impossibility of it all began to sank in. I searched for Emilie through the glassy wall, but the other side had gone dark. Those strangers and their sordid intentions had stolen her from me.

I screamed and clawed at the vines that were still growing, overtaking my shoulders and crawling down my biceps. The farther they spread, the more difficult it became to move.

Rough ivy squeezed my throat. Everything from my chin down was fixed in place, and the vines constricted tighter with each second.

Before they crawled over my face, Reyna stepped into view with a sinister glint in her eyes. “Such a shame you couldn’t behave. I would’ve liked to play with you a while longer. Don’t worry about Emilie, though. My friends will take good care of her.”

My vision turned black as the vines consumed me at last.

Shooting upright, I clutched at my chest, my heart beating out of control.

I grasped my neck, expecting vines, but only found heated skin and a raging pulse.

Sweat accumulated on my brow, even though the drapes fluttered with the soft night breeze.

Cool air rushed in, leaving goosebumps on my skin.

A chill ran up my spine as I struggled to catch my breath.

I forced myself to look around—to remember this place.

I was home, not in the dark, decrepit mountains of Murvort.

This was my room and my bed, my books stacked on a dusty desk across the room, and my wardrobe that was cracked open.

Not the prison room with a lumpy old mattress thrown on the floor and barren stone walls that sucked the life out of everything within their confines.

There were no vines around my wrists—though I still had the white scars where they once were—and no persistent leak dripping from an overhead drain.

Safe. I was safe.

Lowering my shaky hands to the black silk blanket, I ran my fingers over the fabric while I tried to bring myself back to this reality—the one where I was safe and sound, protected by the guards and walls surrounding our stone castle.

No one could touch me here. No one.

Since my return to Osavian, there hadn’t been a single night where I hadn’t woken up in a cold sweat, fighting shadows from my worst nightmares. Memories of unwanted hands and grating words infiltrated my dreams, chasing me until I couldn’t outrun them. They left me feeling drained and haunted.

I pulled back the blanket and hopped out of bed. Stumbling in the dark, I felt my way to my private bathroom and lit a wall sconce, blinking at the sudden burst of light.

Once my eyes adjusted, I faced an unrecognizable reflection in the mirror.

My face was gaunt and the bags under my eyes were more prominent than ever.

A tinge of purple marred my pale skin, like I had bruises beneath my eyes.

I’d always had trouble sleeping, but after being kidnapped, rest was a mythical creature I couldn’t catch.

It was as elusive as the gods who’d forsaken me.

I turned the faucet on and splashed cool water on my face, cupping it in my hands and taking a small sip.

I felt like I’d swallowed fire and inhaled ash.

It took more than one drink to soothe my burning throat.

Once finished, I dried my hands on a towel and leaned against the counter.

Gripping the edge, I stared into my own steel-blue eyes.

The smart thing to do would’ve been to hop back in bed and attempt to sleep until morning light.

If I didn’t, I’d be in a world of pain, struggling to make it through another day of juggling my duties as Head Commander and filling in for Cyrus.

But a little voice in my head said to seek the only thing I knew would help put my nightmares to rest—the only person who understood, who’d suffered like I had.

Emilie.

Even the thought of her name brought a small curve to my lips, but it quickly vanished. I pictured her fighting demons in her sleep, blankets crumpled in a ball near the foot of her bed and her wavy brown hair in a tangled mess.

We were both struggling to return to normal. But wasn’t that to be expected?

The two of us had spent months in captivity. We were tortured, starved, raped, and abused in every way imaginable. Wounds both visible and unseen had a habit of reopening when I least expected it, never letting me have a moment of peace.

It was impossible to live as though our trauma had never happened.

And my mother—she knew something was wrong.

Every day I saw the concern on her face, but I didn’t have the words to pacify her.

I huffed a laugh, thinking of the moment she’d caught Emilie and me in the library a couple weeks ago.

She had been so… disappointed. Yet she hadn’t yelled or berated me.

Instead, she sat me down and asked me to explain, but I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t.

To tell her what Emilie meant to me would mean telling her everything we’d been through, and I didn’t have the strength to confess.

I’d choked up and dropped my head in shame.

If my mother knew half the things we’d been through, it would break her heart.

I was protecting her as much as I was protecting myself.

When she’d realized that I was incapable of recounting the events, she’d wrapped an arm around me and told me it would be okay.

That she loved me no matter what, and she’d be there when I was ready to talk.

She also suggested I see a mind healer like I had when I was younger, but I hadn’t found the time or the courage yet.

The memory of that conversation left my eyes burning, but I pushed the feeling aside. She was unhappy with me, but her patience and love for me outweighed her frustration.

Since then, we hadn’t spoken about Emilie. I wasn’t sure what conclusions she’d come to, but for now, the subject had been put to rest. Probably for the best, since Emilie wanted to keep things ‘friendly’ until we could break the news to Cyrus.

But after two and a half weeks, Cyrus was still in a coma. Our healers had done everything they could, but they hadn’t found the magical cure for his injuries. I tasted bile, knowing my brother had sacrificed himself to save me. I never would’ve asked that of him.

But I knew my brother well, and even knowing the outcome, he would’ve chosen this path a hundred times over. He was the most selfless person in the world, a trait I admired deeply but couldn’t seem to emulate.

Turning around, I eyed my bed with irritation. The responsible thing to do, what my mother would want me to do, was to go back to bed. Stay out of trouble. But I’d always had a mind of my own, so I headed for the door instead, with only one destination in mind.

I made my way through the quiet castle corridors, the woven rugs dampening the sound of my footsteps.

Mage light flickered on and off, sensing my presence and illuminating my route before dimming behind me.

Without running into a single soul, I found myself in the wing that contained both Emilie and Cyrus’s bedrooms.

I paused outside of Cyrus’s door. He wasn’t in there—he was still in the healer’s ward where he could be monitored in case his condition changed—but that didn’t stop me from placing a hand on the cool stone, like it might connect me to him in some way. I missed him so gods damn much.