He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “That’s self-preservation talking.”
“Maybe.” She shrugged. “But after a few months in the Academy, when I finally felt like I was home, I realized that a fractured life is better than being alone.”
Yes, between her father and that bastard Penn, his Vtachi had learned the hard way to not put all her trust in one person. It would take time, but he’d teach her that not every male was a selfish prick. Although, going on a mission during their Trial was bound to look like he was abandoning her, too. How could he walk away from her now when she was finally opening up?
He grazed his fingers along her jaw, nudging her eyes toward his. “You deserve a whole life, not something that’s shattered and broken. And I want to share your pieces, not take them from you.”
“You don’t understand.” Her eyes became haunted. “I can’t share what I don’t have.”
Jax stilled. He hated that after four years of therapy she still didn’t remember. “You think you’re still missing a piece?”
She looked down. “It feels that way, but I don’t think I want it back.”
He wasn’t sure he wanted her to get it back, either. But the only way forward was to face her demons of the past. And she couldn’t do that unless she knew what happened. He kissed the top of her head. “Whatever it is, we’ll work through it together. Trust me.”
“Wrap it up, Nick.” Victor’s voice came from the foyer.
Jax watched Nya roll her head from side to side like she was getting ready for battle. His hand tightened around hers. “Listen, Vtachi, I’ve been ordered to help with a mission in Russia. Believe me when I say I’d rather walk through glass than go.”
She frowned. “Why would they order you to leave in the middle of your Trials? Are we going to war?”
Jax swallowed. “Not yet. And it’s classified.”
Disappointment flashed in her eyes as she slid her hand from his. “I understand.”
His chest tightened as he realized she must have heard that same excuse from Ike for years. He snatched her hand back. “No, you don’t, and I don’t have time to explain.” His voice sounded harsher than he intended, and he softly cursed. “Listen, the council has ruled that the night we spent together in the hospital counts. By law, you must spend some time with the others before we can be alone again. I have no choice about going to Russia, but I promise I’ll be here before the second round starts.”
A commotion in the foyer had both of them looking at the closed door.
Light arced across the floor as Victor peeked in. “We have to go. And Nick, hang back a minute.”
Jax watched Nya walk away, back straight, head held high. Anyone else would see a confident, regal warrior in her prime. But the subtle tightening around her eyes, the strain in her shoulders, told Jax she was a hair’s breadth from bolting.
And his gut ached knowing it was his fault.
To any passerby, the Drahzdan safe house looked like an abandoned store, but the inside had been constructed to mirror Penn’s chamber in the Astana fortress.
“How is he today, Stephan?” Sergei, the leader of Penn’s guard, asked.
“Better. But he is anxious to hear about his Ana. Is there any word?”
“Not yet.” Sergei walked down the hall toward the door at the end while Stephan went into the kitchen. He returned a moment later with a tray heavily laden with food, a tea kettle, and cup.
Sergei opened the door, and Stephan quietly made his way in. “Sir, I have your breakfast.”
Penn sat up, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed. “Put it on the table.”
“Yes, sir.” Stephan placed the tray on the ornate marble slab and started pouring from the kettle. He spooned out three teaspoons of sugar, added a splash of milk, took a sip and then placed it on the side. Steam rose as he took the silver dome off the plate. He tasted the eggs, mush, and fruit and put them next to the tea.
Stephan and his guard assured that only trusted servants ever prepared the Drahzdan Tsar’s food, but Penn insisted on seeing it tested before he ever ingested anything. While it would do little good if someone had laced his meal with a slow acting poison, Penn insisted on the ritual, and Stephan complied.
After all, Sarkov’s last assistant tried to get him to see reason, and the next day he was drawn and quartered in the fortress square.
Penn waited three minutes, the time he believed it would take to see any adverse reactions to most poisons, and then sat at the table, picked up the fork and took a bite of eggs.
“Any word of my Ana?”
Stephan sat in a chair across from Penn. “We understand something has jogged a little of her memory, although we do not know what that is. We believe she will remember soon, and then she will find her way home.”
Penn started on his mush. “She swore fealty to me, you know.”
Stephan’s brow rose as he smiled. “That must be a wonderful memory, sir.”
In a rare moment, Penn smiled back and set his fork down. “It was. When Father finally located Mother, he was horrified she had chosen a village so close to a Scythian compound. But despite Mother’s betrayal, he told her he would allow her to live on the condition that she try and bear him another son. She agreed but only if she could stay in Ireland and not return to Astana. His guards were sure he would end her life right there, but he didn’t. You see, I believe he loved Mother almost as much as I love my Ana. And so, he begrudgingly settled on her terms but demanded she returned once she was with child.”
Penn took a sip of tea. “Every month Dmitri visited mother when she was most fertile. His time with her was brutal and not something I cared to see, so during those days, I lived in the fort my Ana had repaired. One month, to distract him, Mother told him she believed my friend was from the compound. Knowing Sarkov Industries needed a Scythian sample for research, father ordered me to bring him some of Ana’s blood. As a reward, I would be allowed to stay in Ireland until I turned twenty-one. If I didn’t bring him a vial within the month, he would murder my Ana in front of me and force me to take my place as his rightful heir that night.”
Stephan cleared his throat. “I’m sure having little choice in the matter, you agreed.”
Penn smirked. “You knew my father well. I convinced Ana to participate in a blood oath. She said they had something similar in her culture, and so we mixed the two rituals and created our own. She taught me a few Scythian words as part of her culture. I took a vial of blood as part of ours.”
“But blood oaths only call for sharing of blood, not collecting it,” Stephan said.
Penn raised a brow. “I know that, but my Ana didn’t. She trusted me so much she never questioned it. She just smiled and held out her hand. It was after I sliced my palm and pressed it into hers that we swore to always be together.”
“And what happened next?” Stephan sat on the edge of his seat, his eyes intense. It was so very rare their leader spoke more than a few sentences at a time, and what he revealed now gave light to so many unanswered questions.
Penn picked up his tea and glanced at Stephan. “I became very ill with fever. Mother stuck me in an ice bath and thought I might not make it through the night. She saw the slice across my palm and called my father, fearing foul play. A doctor arrived within the hour, and the next thing I knew I was being shuttled to the airport and flown to Astana. I managed to keep the vial with Ana’s blood hidden so that if I died no one would know I had it with me. We reached the fortress before dawn, and father gave me something that kept me alive. I’m not sure what happened, but when the fever broke something within me had changed. My father didn’t intimidate me as he once had, and I no longer feared death. When father came to check on me and ask about the blood sample, I made a few demands of my own. I’d give him the vial, and I’d willingly take my place at his side, something I’d fought since I was a child. The only stipulation was that no Drahzda was allowed to touch my Ana and that he assure her safety. Father must have sense
d the difference too because he agreed. When I was well enough, I returned to Ireland, promising that I would go through Drahzda training in my twenty-second year.
“Was your Ana affected as well?” Stephan asked.
Penn glanced over. “What do you mean?”
“It’s obvious that her blood was the cause of your illness. Did your blood affect her the same?”
“The doctor said it was a virus that nearly took my life. The fact that I no longer feared confronting my father I attributed to fate.”
Stephan stood and picked up the tray. “You know you’re lucky. I don’t think anyone who has been exposed to Scythian blood has survived.”
“Are you saying I’m too weak to have my Ana’s blood flow through these veins?” Penn’s voice rose as hysteria threaded through him.
Stephan’s eyes flashed with fear. “Absolutely not. You are the leader of the Drahzda. A man to be respected and revered.”
“Do not patronize me!” Penn threw his plate across the room. “Get out! Get out before I strangle you with my bare hands!”
Stephan backed away, muttering apologies. The crash of breaking china and screams echoed in the hall and he quickly closed the door.
Sergei glanced at Stephan. “What did you say to him now?”
“It doesn’t matter. What’s important is that I think I understand what happened the summer he almost died.”
“Oh?”
More screams and crashes bled into the hall. Stephan shuddered. “Get in touch with Vlad and have him interview any doctors and scientists that were ordered to the fortress that summer. And then I need to speak with the council.”
Sergei reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “Finally. With Ana on the cusp of remembering, let’s hope someone can shed some light before the entire Scythian army follows her back here.”
“If everything goes as it should, the Society will believe Ana dead. But if we’re wrong and they attack, we pull back and head for the fortress.”
“I’ve got men planning for that very thing, although traveling with Ana would put our forces at risk. Still, if we made it back to Astana we might stand a chance if they invaded. But in this place?” He looked up from the screen. “We won’t last the night.”
Nya walked into the dining hall, keeping her smile firmly in place. The tables still held the same formal dishware and floral arrangements, only this time the males were dressed in official uniforms, and the champions wore gowns. She looked at her table, seeing five strange warriors waiting for her. After Jax’s little bombshell she really wasn’t in the mood for the Scythian version of speed dating.
Jax walked past, and she stiffened. Her eyes tracked him as he joined Giovanni, Killian, Luka, and Aren at one of the white tables along the perimeter.
“Are you ready, Anya?” Victor placed his palm on her hand resting on his arm.
Voices droned around her as they wove through the hall until they found her table. The males stood, introducing themselves, but she wasn’t paying attention.
The pressure in her chest ached.
Jax hadn’t left the academy in four years, not once. He told her he’d be here to help her through the Trials, but since he’d been declared as an official candidate he hadn’t taken part in the sparring session—and now he was off to Russia.
If she chose him, would Jax end up being like her father, always putting the Society first?
While she didn’t want a male who demanded she give more than she could, she didn’t want to be discounted and ignored either.
Victor pulled back her chair and nudged her. She sat down barely noticing the warriors doing the same. Waiters milled about, filling crystal goblets with sweet wine and water.
She glanced around the room, her gaze landing on Jax again. He was the only Tova she’d ever met, but if their reputation had a stereotype, Zander would be it. Hard. Cruel. Insensitive. Even if she were brave enough to choose Jax, she’d be under Zander’s authority ... so would her vahna. Just thinking about it had her breaking into a sweat.
Giovanni chatted with Aren while Luka watched Tor circulate the room. Killian spoke to the server filling his glass, but Jax kept his eyes on her.
She looked away. What in the hell had come over her, telling him about her stupid pieces? She should have kept it to herself. But ever since the championships, he had slipped through her defenses. The more time they spent together, the more she spilled her guts about nightmares and insecurities. Maybe it was a good thing he was leaving. She needed to keep some distance.
A chime rang overhead, and the warriors at her table stood while new ones took their place. The soup was served, but Nya kept her hands in her lap, not bothering to pick up the spoon.
“Anya, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”
She glanced up at the copper-skinned warrior in front of her, his dark eyes shining.
The silence stretched and the smile slipped from his face. “I met you this afternoon. I’m Pacha Supay, a warrior from the Andes Mountains.”
“Of course. Please forgive me. It’s been a long day.”
“I’m glad I made an impression.” His droll remark had her smiling for the first time that night.
She met his open gaze. This was the type of male she’d always thought she’d end up with—someone kind, who wouldn’t want more from her than a few offspring. They could part as friends, or maybe they’d stay together and live independent lives under the same roof. That idea had kept her sane the past four years. She’d be an idiot to abandon it now. Maybe she should just give in and release Jax before he went to Russia.
But her stomach dropped at the thought of letting him go.
“Interesting day on the sparring field,” Pacha commented as he set down his spoon.
Nya blinked, forcing her mind to focus on the warrior in front of her. “I guess you could call it that.”
He laughed, his eyes gleaming. “Yes. I’d say watching you spar with a Tova definitely falls under the interesting category. I look forward to seeing you again, Anya.” The chime sounded overhead, and Pacha stood. His dark eyes swept over the dragon guarding her empty mark. “Shame. His eyes should be citrine.”
Nya watched him walk away. She glanced at Victor. “Why citrine?”
“The original Incans worshiped the sun god. Citrine’s golden color makes it a most valued gem in his culture.”
“Oh.”
Five new warriors sat at her table. She closed her eyes as the soup was taken away and a salad appeared.
Good Lord. How many courses were they going to serve?
Chapter Twenty
“Goodnight, Dr. Ramova,” Nya woodenly replied, focusing on putting the key in the lock. God, dinner was brutal. Now the only thing she wanted to do was take a hot shower and go to bed. She needed some alone time to figure out what in the hell she was going to do.
She opened the door, but Victor followed her in and closed it behind him. The lock clicked in place.
Nya froze. “What are you doing?”
“Part of my mandate is to counsel you after every major affair. I think we can both agree today counts as such. Now, let’s have that chat, shall we?”
His hand rested on her back, and she shied away. Victor ignored the reaction and led her across the room to the sitting area by the closet.
“I thought it would be easier to speak here. But if you wish, I can ask for one of the smaller conference rooms. I will tell you the seats there are quite uncomfortable.”
“This is fine,” Nya muttered. She sat in one of the plush chairs, while Victor found the other. He crossed his legs and settled in, waiting for her to speak.
“Something’s been bothering me all day.”
Victor’s brow rose. “Oh?”
“Where were the reporters? This afternoon and tonight at dinner, I mean.” Her voice sounded small, and Victor reached over and took her hand.
“The media is strictly forbidden during formal affairs. And, by law, no one in the foyer this aft
ernoon can discuss what happened because the Chancellor declared your past is classified. There may be rumors about your parents involving you in something as a child, but nothing else.”
Nya relaxed a little. “Well, at least that’s something.”
He squeezed her hand before letting go. “Yes, it is. Now. Onto an easier subject. How did you enjoy meeting the uncommitted?”
“I liked seeing the warriors on the sparring field. Well, except for Zander.”
“And tonight?”
“Honestly, I don’t remember much about the conversations in the dining hall.”
“What about Pacha?”
Nya shrugged. “He’s all right, I guess.”
“Well, then. Let’s discuss your official candidates. Are you sexually attracted to any of them?”
Nya folded her arms across her chest. “You’ve seen my file. How would I know?”
Victor settled back in his chair. “Come now. Even though you haven’t had much experience in this area doesn’t mean you haven’t been physically drawn to someone. Chemistry plays a big part in choosing an equal. It’s the reason we procreate, and it helps partners resolve their conflicts. If you are sexually attracted to Jax, Killian, or any of the others, I see no reason why you shouldn’t explore it.”
He watched emotions play across her face as her eyes flitted around the room, finally settling on the bed.
“I don’t want to talk about attraction.”
Victor crossed his legs and put his hands in his lap. “All right. Let’s move on. You didn’t know Penn was Sarkov’s son.”
Nya shook her head. “No. Penn’s last name was Karimov. I knew he hated his father, but when his dad came to the village, Penn made sure I stayed away.”
“Karimov was his mother’s maiden name.”
“How could I not have known the Drahzdan Tsar’s name was Penn?”
The Scythian Trials Page 18