48. CHAPTER 48
Zayne
The Capital
Kallum, Ciondo
The shock and grief fused into something else entirely.
A wild fury. A dangerous one.
Zayne stared at the Phaedra’s door in the quiet of his tower.
The guards on either side wouldn’t hesitate to kill anyone, even Zayne.
Even his father. They stood watch as they always did.
In a strange way, Zayne was thankful for them.
Thankful they forced him to think and to cage the hissing animal inside himself.
Because this beast wanted the Phaedra’s blood.
And that was something that would require thought: how it would affect the empire, who would take his place, whether Kira would survive.
Many things to consider. Enough that Zayne knew he wouldn’t kill the Phaedra tonight.
What would Mom say if she came back? What would she want Zayne to do?
“Don't let them kill our girl.”
The door opened. Darkness inside.
He entered without waiting for permission.
The Phaedra wore a long silk robe. The sight of him made the beast within Zayne beat against his chest with every heartbeat, demanding to be released.
“Son.” The Phaedra moved closer, expression pinched. Voice and eyes soft. Too soft. As if the Phaedra actually cared. “This never should have happened.”
Why did the Phaedra feel comfortable seeing Zayne without a guard? He trusted his power over him that much.
No, there must have been a sniper too. No one had ever said the Phaedra employed one in his personal suites, but Zayne had suspected it.
The Phaedra took no chances. Meeting him unguarded was an illusion of trust. He’d bet every time he’d ever stood face-to-face with the Phaedra that he had a sniper on him. If not, the Phaedra was a fool.
“Zayne?” The Phaedra stood in front of him now, out of arm’s reach, but close enough that Zayne could get to him fast. “Do you need to sit, son?”
A current of rage swept through his body constantly, keeping him standing and moving and breathing. These games were over. “You knew my mother was in that church.”
“I didn’t. Not until—”
“Don’t lie to me.” No one ever interrupted the Phaedra. And it showed in the way he actually paused. “We’re done lying to each other.”
The comforting tone deepened into one more serious. “You lost your mother today. Are you certain you want to have this conversation now?”
“I’m certain.”
The softness shifted into a sharp-eyed stare. This was the real Phaedra. Calculating. Smart. More than smart. Brilliant. Not all world leaders were. But he was terrifyingly competent. “Very well.”
The Phaedra sat, and Zayne took the chair opposite him. The two stared at one another, perhaps daring the other to speak.
“Why did you do it?” Zayne asked. “Is this a punishment for my father not controlling her?”
“The stability of my empire depends upon my relationship with your father. With your family. Your mother wore a disguise and wasn't identified until she'd already passed.”
Not relenting, he studied the Phaedra, hoping that by giving him the opportunity to speak, he'd offer up information.
“It hurts me that you don't trust my word,” the Phaedra said.
“It hurts me that you killed my mother.”
A flicker of the darkness that filled his eyes in the basement of the church captured his stare. “Did you not kill her as well? You, your father, your brother.”
The cruelty didn't faze him because the wounds were too severe for him to feel anything beyond Mom's death.
“Yes. We're all responsible. You're the one who ordered this operation though.
You oversaw it personally. And you're too careful not to check the identities of those inside in case you wanted to hold anyone for interrogation.”
“I did order everyone inside to be identified. The officer in charge of the operation, the one who killed your mother, has been taken into custody. I don’t tolerate carelessness. The intel I received said the only valuable target was the elder.”
Pain clutched his heart.
“We were searching for known terrorists, not the family members of high-ranking officials. The oversight is unacceptable, but it's not a conspiracy. If you want to review the reports, see your father. He already confronted me.”
“He did?”
“You two are more alike than you think,” the Phaedra said. “We had this same conversation. This tragedy won't go unanswered. I promised Brandon I would hand the officer over to him.”
This wasn’t what Zayne wanted. That officer followed the Phaedra’s orders. It was the Phaedra who should pay, not only for what he did to Zayne’s mom and the Followers, but to the rest of the empire.
“What will my father do with him?” Zayne asked.
“I prefer not to know.” The Phaedra sat back. “You’ll have to ask him. This is a family matter now. It’s not my place. I can never make this situation right. The least I can do is allow your father his justice.”
Zayne saw the High General's justice once, in the form of dozens of slaughtered militia members. In the form of Imani and Ashantae on the run for life. The Phaedra tried to distract and manipulate him. That wouldn't work. Not today.
“You still killed my mom.” Zayne’s voice turned steely.
There might have been a flicker of fear in the Phaedra's eyes. It was a flicker of something Zayne had never seen. Something dark, fleeting, and human.
Silence stretched on, the agony of all the sacrifices rolling over Zayne, one impossible grief after the next, one guilt after the next, until Mom's whisper filled his ears. As if she stood right beside him.
“Don't let them kill our girl.”
The Phaedra never stopped staring into his eyes. “I killed your mom.”
Hearing it sawed at his remaining threads of control. “Now you owe me,” Zayne said. “A life for a life. Mom was ours, and you took her.”
He couldn't remember a time he had ever talked to the Phaedra where it felt like the man couldn't read his mind.
Not until now. That flicker Zayne just saw shifted into curiosity.
The dangerous curiosity of a thrill-seeker who wanted to know how close he might get to the beast that wanted to kill him without losing a hand.
The Phaedra didn't argue but merely watched with an insatiable gleam in his eyes.
“You'll give me Kira's life in honor of my mother,” Zayne said.
“Whatever happens, and I mean whatever, she isn't yours to kill. Not directly or indirectly.” He stood.
Stepped closer until he looked down on the Phaedra.
And the man recognized the danger in front of him, a danger he had never experienced in person. “Understand?”
A slow smile curled the Phaedra's lips. His body looked too at ease sitting there, but his eyes spoke the truth. Death recognized death. “I told you to be careful with her.”
“I'll do what you want. Kira is yours, so long as she's alive.” She'd never be his, but Zayne had to buy her time.
“You don't know, do you?” The Phaedra chuckled. “Deals have already been made over your mother. I need more.”
What? He breathed harder.
“I never knew she was a traitor,” the Phaedra said. “But I knew she wasn't mine, and after her rebellious spirit infected you, I decided to stop the bleeding.”
His parents never said anything to him about this.
“You sinned because your mother passed rebellion onto you.
It's your father who saved you both. He paid the price for your lives.
Now he's mine forever.” His long form rose from the couch, and he slid his hand into Zayne's hair, close enough to smell lingering sweet smoke.
“Do you know the power of owning a man willing to destroy their own emperor?” His eyes deepened.
“That's why I want you. Your brother will serve me no matter what I do.
He's weak. I want someone strong enough to fight me. That is someone powerful enough to serve at my side.” Nails ran along his scalp. “Once they're conquered, of course.”
The Phaedra's oppressive presence battered him while he was wounded and bleeding out. Zayne could do nothing but listen, too shocked to fully take in what he said.
Then the Phaedra's voice turned gentle. “You want me to spare Kira?”
The fresh grief of losing his mother destroyed his ability to defend himself. “Yes.”
The nails dug into the back of his head, cutting into his skin. Phlegm rattled with the Phaedra's throaty roar. “Then I own you.”
Still clawing into Zayne's skull, the Phaedra lifted his other hand and softly trailed his cheekbone, touch sliding down the side of his face, along his jaw. His thumb found a swollen knot from his father's punch, rubbing the tender flesh. Pain dug into his face.
“Ask me to give her to you,” the Phaedra said. “I won't kill her if you do.”
He gripped Zayne's short hair and took his time pulling his head back until his neck strained.
As much as he wanted to fight the emperor, he knew he'd lost as much ground as he'd gained.
Zayne leveraged his grief, but the Phaedra wouldn't give Kira up for free.
So, he closed his eyes, ignoring the hot breath against the side of his face.
“Ask me.” The whisper slithered into his ear.
“Will you let Kira live?”
The grip on his hair tightened. Zayne couldn't track the Phaedra's eyes with his head ripped back, but he felt his scrutiny burning into his skin.
“Is that really the best way to ask your Phaedra for your bitch's life?” Another jerk on his hair.
“Please, Phaedra, give her to me. Please, let me have her. Please. I beg you.”
Zayne's nostrils flared, jaw clenching. Every word hurt. “Please, Phaedra.”
The emperor melted his lips over Zayne's swollen jaw, speaking against his skin. “Yes?”
He shuddered, fighting to keep himself from throwing the Phaedra across the room. “Please, let me have Kira. I'm begging you. I'll give you everything.”
The Phaedra lifted Zayne's head back up, gazing into his eyes. “I own you. Say it.”
“You own me.”
A tisk. “Say it like you fucking mean it, boy.”
His chest ached. Everything ached. Pain didn't matter anymore. He said each word slowly and clearly so the emperor could savor his power. “You own me, Phaedra.”