Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Guild of Assassins, Shadow Court
Lanlin
I curl up alone on the stone floor of the dungeon, shivering.
By the Void, how do the dragons cope in such cold? I peer through the black, at the damp, moldy walls of the cell in the Guild of Assassins. Its silver bars press even more oppressively on my magic than the shackles that sear my wrists.
Tremors wrack my body.
I press myself more firmly into the corner, hissing as I put pressure onto the lash marks on my back.
May Wraith and Taran choke on their own fucking sadism.
One day, I shall play with them, as they have played with me.
I hug my arms around my hollow, aching stomach. I pant, desperate and crazed with gnawing hunger and thirst.
Don’t think about the blood, blood, nectar-like blood of my Little Raven…the taste as it coats my tongue, filling my mouth like sunshine, before slipping down my throat like my entire life suddenly has meaning…
I groan.
When I am wracked by shivers again, the movement sends stabbing pains through my chest. I cradle my side, careful to keep my breaths shallow.
Has it been a week? Eight days?
It seems longer since I was stripped of my wedding outfit, ribbons, and diamonds, as if I was no longer allowed any status as royalty and thrown into icy cold water until even the makeup was washed from my face.
When a Beta servant reached to remove my scarab beetle pendant, however, I’d snarled, backing across the bath chamber.
“Whoever tries to take this away from me,” I growled, “will lose their hand.”
The pendant was the only thing I had remaining from my family.
“Our King says that you must be good and obey,” the Beta timidly told me. “Or your Blood Lover will suffer.”
Instantly, I stilled.
If the Beta had said that Aurelius had threatened our Omega, then I would have called his bluff. But how much care could Aurelius have for Daire if he had allowed him to wear the cursed silver that now adorned my wrists on the skin of his face?
If he knew that I would execute him as my mother’s killer if I discovered his identity?
Raven was as much a captive in this kingdom as I was. Of course Aurelius would hurt him to control me.
Slowly, I unclasped my pendant for the first time since Lazarus had put it on me.
It was agonizing to pass it over to the servant.
“Break this, and I shall break you in ways that you have never dreamed possible,” I warned. “I shall not forget your face in this life or the next, understand?”
The Beta paled, nodding hurriedly.
Nothing remained of my kingdom. I felt exposed.
Alone.
My shackles weren’t removed.
Then I was forced into a gladiatorial uniform like I was no more than property: a fitted black leather breastplate with the Golden Dragon emblem emblazoned on the front as a mark of ownership, and strips of worn, golden leather that hung from my waist.
My feet were left bare.
Now in the dark, I only see the light when Wraith and the Head of the Guild, Taran, who the Scarlet Temple would be proud of for his sadism, drag me out to play their games of pleasure and pain.
Bile rushes up my throat.
Shadow Devils, help me forget. Hide those thoughts in the Void.
It helped me during my time in the punishment pits. I would force all memories of…what happened…out of my mind. I would only experience the suffering as it happened, while in the long stretches in between, I would drop them into the abyss that I created in my mind.
Sometimes, forgetting is the only way to survive.
I latch onto my wrist, over the Ankh mark. I bite without breaking the skin.
Because sometimes, remembering is the only way to survive.
“Dearhearts,” I whisper.
My mind is foggy. I am feral.
I am glad that my Omega is not here to see me like this.
I lick and bite over the bond mark as I have every time that I am alone in the cell, until the skin is red and raw, obsessively searching for Freya’s emotions.
She is anxious. Frightened. But not hurting.
It is a revelation that someone else’s safety can matter more than anything else in the realms to me.
Suddenly, I feel her kiss over the bond mark. Then there is a sensation of feathers — Daire’s wing.
My eyelashes flutter.
I kiss the bond mark back, desperately.
They are together.
No vampire should be separated from their Omega after they are bonded.
No vampire can survive being separated the night after a bonding.
I whine, slamming my fist into the wall. The masonry crumbles on me like snow.
I must keep living. I must last this month.
But how can I without feeding? How can I without my bonded Omega? Without scenting her pheromones?
I am dying.
My lips curl back over my aching fangs, which are twin points of agony. I can’t shift, and it’s like someone has amputated part of me.
I reach deep inside of myself, and what remains of my magic swirls around me. My shadows rise up. I concentrate and search with the Power to sense the creatures in the dungeons.
The Power is weakened by the shackles. The loss, after the persecution I have faced for my ability, is more painful than any torture this Guild has put me through.
I almost sob with relief, when I can still sense the rats, beetles, and flies living around the dank dungeon, which are excitedly answering my call.
I smile.
I am not alone.
I startle, however, when there is a sudden loud bang on the bars.
How bad has my state become that I miss these dragons’ approach down the corridor?
Worry worms through me.
I am an assassin too. How do they think they can break me?
“The trash is smiling,” a sneering voice says. “Clearly, that silver-tipped whip wasn’t effective on him. We have played with his aversion to touch, knives, and simple sticks. He can take a beating better than any vampire I’ve yet tortured. Oh well, it’s no good. We need another approach.”
I turn my head to stare at the Beta dragon, Taran, on the other side of the bars, who is discussing me like a fun puzzle to solve.
Taran is holding a small, flickering oil lamp. He is peering through at me like I am a caged animal that he is taming.
Taran is dressed in the black robes of the Guild of Assassins. Even though he is their leader, he appears to be younger than me. But as he has told me…many times…this week, he was Vicious’ personal apprentice and never meant to become the Head of his Guild.
And this Vicious died because of me.
I can respect Taran’s thirst for vengeance. I don’t respect his methods.
Taran has a deceptively soft face like he is piously praying to his Shadow Gods, when he is in fact plotting horrors.
His short, sandy hair falls gently to his shoulders, but I can catch the sharpness lurking in his light blue eyes.
Horus played the same trick, camouflaging his danger.
I hate those who hide their fangs. They are the most likely to sink them into your throat.
Wraith stands at Taran’s shoulder, studying me.
She never joins in on the games, but she always watches.
After all, Vicious was her lover. She has the greatest reason for vengeance.
Wraith’s white-blond hair is plaited with a gold ribbon, and she looks fragile with a pointed face. Her jade eyes are calculating, however, and she wears the jade robe of the Guild of Spies.
She also has a golden sash wound around her waist that means she is personally bound to Aurelius’ inner court.
I spent my youth visiting the Shadow Court, learning its secrets and workings. I spied on it myself, growing close to Aurelius on Nebet’s order.
I wasn’t meant to also learn what true friendship was.
I wasn’t meant to become his friend for real.
I know that Aurelius won’t believe me now. But I may be one of his only true friends.
And his other friends hate me.
Wraith’s voice is soft, hardly above a murmur, but it is compelling. “Then maybe we are going about this wrong. We were told that he has no feelings. But I don’t believe it. Look at him, An. We only need to give it time. I know the power of grief.”
Taran rubs her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
She shrugs him off. “I don’t need sympathy; I need him to feel the same pain as I do. Separation from your loved one hurts more than sticks, knives, or whips.” Her gaze meets mine, and her lip curls up at one side. “Doesn’t it, Blood?”
The two Betas study me like I am neither an Alpha nor a king.
I refuse to answer, attempting to stop my limbs trembling.
I struggle to uncurl, extending my claws and sinking them into the damp wall. I use my claws to drag myself up into a painful sitting position with my back against the wall.
I am shaking but I defiantly stare back at the dragons.
Taran rubs at the stubble on his chin. “He’s already trembling from his withdrawal from the fae’s blood and his Omega’s pheromones. What do you think the chances are that he’ll die simply from being separated from his bonded Omega this soon after the Blood Moon?”
Wraith’s smile becomes dreamy. “High.”
My chest tightens. “I shall endeavor to disappoint you.”
Wraith’s smile sours.
She rests her hand on the bars. “I shall return to watch you tonight and every night, murderer, curled up and shaking in the dark. I shall see how you are still shackled and caged, as you slowly die. Then I shall finally be able to sleep soundly again. Because knowing you are here suffering alone will drive the nightmares from me that have wracked me every night since your rats ripped the woman I loved apart.”
She is panting, clutching the bars with white knuckles. Tears tremble on her eyelashes.
Our gazes meet.
I lick my dry lips, attempting to clear my foggy mind.
“Was she not an assassin like me? Didn’t she die protecting her king, which was an honorable death?
I do not pretend to be good. But did I hide Aurelius’ Omega from him?
Did my kingdom seek to conquer yours for decades?
Force its submission? Did I create a fake peace treaty?
I accept the blame that I deserve, but I won’t become the scapegoat for your country’s grief.
Only one of us is empire-building on dead bodies. ”
Wraith draws back from the bars. “We should gag him.”
I give a sharp smile. “Don’t you wish to hear the truth?”