Chapter 10
H er lungs burned. Her head swam and her stomach lurched, its contents readily spilling onto the ground as soon as they landed.
How Ilias had known of the portals in Credula was beyond her, but the moment she looked up and saw the Silver Castle looming over Holiadon, she felt her terrified heart steady just a fraction. Just enough for her to pull herself to her feet and charge towards him. She shoved at his chest, tears spilling from her eyes as she sucked in greedy breaths.
“Why did you do that?” She screamed. “Why? Why ?”
Ilias gently gripped her wrists with hands that were still stained red with blood. The eyes that found hers were also filled with fear, his face pale as he glanced from her and then to the kingdom behind them. “I-I don’t know what came over me. He said that you would be his soon enough and I just… I lost it , Kaya. I’ve never been that angry before.”
She pulled away from him, shaking her head as she began charging down the street. “We have to go! We have to warn them—”
“Kaya, please!” Ilias’s voice was filled with desperation, his heart aching and bleeding as he grabbed her and pulled her to his chest. “Please, Kaya. If I die tonight, I don’t want it to end like this. If they kill me…”
“They will not touch you.” Kaya pulled back, hands coming up to cup his cheeks. “I will not allow them to touch you.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m going to give myself to them, Ilias. It’s the only way. I cannot let this kingdom fall.”
“Kaya. ”
She shook her head, a sob choking from her lungs. “I’ll come back to you, Ilias. I’ll come back home the first chance I get. I told you—they’ll never have me. Not entirely.” Pushing up onto the tips of her toes, she kissed him. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, squeezing the bunched cloth right where his heart pounded. “I love you. Forever. And I promise to you, that they will never take me from you. I will never bear their children, nor will I ever take their name. My name belongs to you, Ilias Dothrae. I am yours—now and forever.”
Ilias nodded, pressing his forehead against hers. “Now and forever, princess.”
━?○?━?○?━
It happened quickly. The Credulan King stormed into Holiadon with an entire army, demanding justice for his critically injured son. Kaya was able to help her parents lead as many fae as possible into the mines that were carved under the mountain—was able to veil the heart of her kingdom with the help of the creatures that lived inside her. She saved them. The Dark Bringer saved them.
There were very few in Holiadon that didn’t make it in time and for that, she tried to feel grateful.
But the feeling did not exist in this scenario. All she felt was guilt and shame. Because she had failed. She hid as much of the city as she could with her shadows, but she could feel her strength fading with each panted breath she drew as she was practically dragged through the streets.
The princess watched her city burn.
They started with the temples and then moved to the libraries. They ripped apart her kingdom until every mile she walked became so heartbreaking that her knees buckled, colliding against the quartz-lined streets.
With hot tears weighing at her swollen eyes, she looked back at the man that stood, shouting orders, among the wreckage.
It had been a quick goodbye—a deep kiss stolen in desperation—before they were ripped away from one another by the Credulan King. Chains were shackled to her wrists and ankles, but not tight enough to keep her from reaching for the locket that hung around her neck with the hand that bore her mother’s gifted ring.
A promise.
A promise that this terror would end—that the days of war would soon be over and that she could, finally, spend her life wrapped perfectly in her greatest love’s embrace. A promise that she would return to Holiadon.
“ Find the sword ,” He whispered, “ and when the locket, the ring, and the sword of Cadaith’s heart are united… this will all end. All of it .”
It was a shot in the dark, for the Sons of Caddagh had pillaged and destroyed almost everything. They had desecrated these lands to the point that the princess was not sure if the last relic still existed.
But she promised him anyway.
And as the fair-haired king of falsities jerked her to her feet, she let out a soft cry. The man in the distance, with his dark brown hair and eyes the color of the most beautiful green gems, turned to look at her once more.
Her world burned.
Her prince smiled.
Children screamed for their mothers.
She closed her eyes, a single tear rolling down her cheek before she was thrown through the swirling golden mass of light behind her.
━?○?━?○?━
A lash to her spine caused her body to lurch. There were no tears in her eyes, nor did she cry out in pain. She stared at the fool before her, eyes narrowed at the stolen crown on his head. His eyes were unforgiving, his lust for power evident in the way he observed her. The moment he threw her body onto the floor, he demanded for her to speak her new name. The one he had given her. She would not. She would not give him the glorification of going by a name chosen for her—one he expected her to use when she joined the Credulan society. She would pick her own.
“I will ask you again,” He spoke clearly, coldly. “What is your name? ”
She unhinged her jaw, face devoid of emotion. “I am Ailikaya Dothrae Aesa, Princess of Holiadon.”
Another lash, skin ripping away from her back as the king stepped forward. “What is your name?” He bellowed.
“Ailikaya—”
Before her name left her mouth, the whip struck her back again. She could feel the burning, feel the hot blood spilling from her skin and pooling into the dress that had been shoved down her torso. She did not fight against her restraints. And each time that the false king demanded her name, she gave it to him—she spoke her name until she hung from those chains with no strength to keep herself upright any longer.
The king sniffed at the air, wiping a bead of spittle from the corner of his mouth. “Stubborn little bitch.” He spat, lips peeling back against elongated teeth as he struck her across the face. Still, the princess did not relent. “I suppose I will have to break you another way.” He glanced up at the guards that lingered by the door, both of them facing away from the scene that had been put on display before them. “Call in the Siphon.”
Her eyes widened just slightly through the swelling, her mouth parting. Her voice was a whisper, forcing the king to charge forward with his hand cupped behind his ear.
“What did you say?” He asked.
With every last bit of strength she could muster, the princess pulled herself up. She looked at him straight, her chin raised and blood seeping down the column of her neck. She bore it proudly. Allowed him to feast upon her in all of her bruised and bloodied glory before she opened her mouth to speak.
“I am Princess Ailikaya Dothrae Aesa of Holiadon, wife to Prince Ilias Dothrae. I am the beginning of your demise. But you may call me Ada.”
The king stooped down to his knee, swiping at the line of blood on her neck. He chuckled deep in his burly chest, cocking his head to the side as if scrutinizing a bug or pesky serpent. And she wished for that—to come in the form of a snake and snuff the life from his eyes, forever dimming the evil gleam that lurked in those depthless pools of black.
“ Ada , huh?” The king hummed. “And what does that mean in your tongue, wild one?”
Kaya grinned a bloodied smile, batting her eyes at him prettily. “In Lowen, it has three meanings. Death or rebirth—” She hissed through clenched teeth as he pressed his finger into one of the lashes on her back, fully understanding that he did not like that answer.
“And the third meaning?”
A beat of silence. Two beats. Her heart pounded in her ears and her head swam with the blinding pain that radiated from her back into the base of her skull. “Ada is the name of the goddess of retribution. In your tongue, you know her as Adora .”
And with that, the king fisted the hair at the back of her head and slammed her face into the floor. He rose to his feet again, jerking at the fabric of his gaudy robes and pushing a strand of golden hair over his shoulder. “ Adora ble.” He sighed, without an ounce of affection to his tone. He looked over her slumped figure before turning to the young Captain that hovered by the doorway.
The young male’s face was pale, his yellow eyes just wide enough to signify that he was horrified at what he saw. The king approached him with a prideful stride, sparing the unconscious female a final glance before he clapped the Captain on the shoulder.
“Have her taken to the Siphon immediately.”
The command was met with a dazed nod, the Captain still utterly disgusted at what he’d witnessed. He was hesitant in retrieving her and was careful when he leaned down and examined her body for places he could touch that weren’t already purple or bloodied. There were hardly any.
Once released from her shackles, he didn’t know where to grab her in his attempt at lifting her off the floor. He removed his jacket, draping it over the bleeding wounds on her back before he pulled her up. Kaya wrapped her arms and legs around him, like a child clinging to its mother. The Captain’s eyes burned with tears, his breathing delayed as he walked her towards The Siphon’s room. Once safe behind the protection of The Siphon’s door, the red-haired male placed the princess onto the bed, laying her on her stomach.
“What is your name, gentle one?” The princess asked .
He thought for a moment, wondering if he should say anything to her at all. But by the dazed look on her face and the tears that streaked it, his fear turned to an overwhelming desire to protect. To defend.
“Brynnard Joran.” He swallowed, kneeling down beside the bed just enough for her to see his face. “I am Captain of the Credulan Army. Son to Brand Joran, General of the Credulan Army.”
She smiled, swallowing a sob when she realized he had covered her with his jacket. “You have a soft heart, Brynnard Joran.”
Soft, indeed. Even in his fear, he wouldn’t dare harm this poor creature. “Thank you, Adora.” He swallowed deeply, eyes flickering in the direction of the door. He leaned closer, more frantic now than before. “I will do my best to take care of you. I will do everything in my power to assure he will not put his hands on you again.”
The princess sobbed into the mattress, a heartbreaking and guttural sob that was laced with someone’s name, but Brynnard could not be sure. He hovered there—close, but not too close, and waited.
Brynnard watched as her horrible sobs turned to helpless whimpers and saw her eyes finally starting to drift closed. He wished that he could do more to ease her pain, but he just watched her. Guarded her—this young female that the Credulan king had demonized. He’d made them all believe that the Dark Bringer, this tiny quivering creature before him, was a fanged and heartless monster.
A sharp inhale forced Brynnard’s attention away from the princess, his eyes landing on the female that was now interring the room. Her golden curls were tied into a knot at the top of her head and instead of wearing dress and robe as the rest of the courtiers, this female wore trousers and a tunic, her shoes nowhere in sight. He would have smiled at the sight of her barefoot and winded on any other day, but under these circumstances, he could barely muster a single greeting.
The Siphon walked towards the blood-soaked bed, her brow crumpled and tears threatening to spill as she knelt beside the princess.
“Hello,” the golden-haired maiden whispered, her voice gentle and soft like the tender touch of a friend. “My name is Celestia Joran. ”
“Ada— Adora .” The princess grumbled, her tongue stumbling between Lowen dialect and Credulan. “You can call me Adora.”
Celestia chewed at the skin of her lip, exchanging a glance with Brynnard before she peeled back the jacket that had been thrown over her back. Kaya whimpered, pain searing through her flesh. Tears welled up in her eyes, her cries muffled by the thick duvet.
“I’m not doing this—” Celestia started, jolting to her feet.
Brynnard rushed towards her, gripping her arm desperately. “He will kill you, Celestia. He will kill you and he won’t think twice about it. And where will that leave the Ruthra? What will we do then ?”
“Your father can lead.”
“Credula needs you, Cel. And if you don’t do this, you will also be failing her and what remains of the clans.”
Kaya stirred at this, shifting her body just enough to look at them. “You’re going to take it, aren’t you?” She whispered, her throat on the verge of collapse.
Celestia’s eyes darted in her direction, her body going rigid. “Unfortunately, yes.” The princess closed her eyes, the act forcing two large tears to roll down her face and into the fabric underneath her. The golden-haired female turned to her companion again, her face grim as she tightened her hands into fists. “Tell Nedra to come. We’re going to need a healer. I’m not doing this without one.”
Brynnard Joran nodded and bowed at her command before darting out of the room. No sooner than the door closing did Celestia kneel at Kaya’s side once again. “Can you do me a favor?” Kaya asked.
“Of course,” Celestia smiled. “Anything you ask.”
“I arrived here with a ring. I need you to fetch it for me.” Kaya opened her eyes to see Celestia moving to her feet, but before the Siphon could turn away, Kaya reached out and grabbed her wrist. “And I need you to swear that you will not tell a soul what you see whenever I choose to put it on. Do you understand?”
The Siphon blinked, brow twitching together for a fleeting moment before she nodded. “I swear. ”
“Good.” Kaya sighed, gritting through the pain as she laid her head back down onto the mattress. Through the burning, through the ache, she slept. She dreamed of her machna ii’loam. She dreamed of Holiadon and of a boy, a boy with blue eyes and a smile as bright as the stars running towards her—hand in hand with a young girl with soft brown curls and the most striking green eyes she had ever seen.
She smiled in her sleep.
And when she finally awoke, the Dark Bringer was gone, as was the memory of her true name. The pain was gone, too.
Physically, anyway.
For years she held onto that dream she had of those two children—clinging to it as a semblance of hope for a better future. One that she failed to provide.