Alexandra remained silent as she took another deep drag off her cigarette.
Penn sighed. “Come now. Surely you see the benefits? Think of the good you could do. It’s the foundational belief of your Society, is it not? To better humanity through knowledge and strength?”
“Not if it means a world regime with a Drahzdan Tsar at the helm.” Smoke rolled out of her mouth as she spoke, and she ground the last of the hand-rolled into a crystal tray.
Penn’s voice grew dangerously soft. “Scythians are known for their logic. Surely you understand one of your females isn’t worth jeopardizing your entire race. Especially now, when Anya Thalestris is of little use to you anyway. The chances of her naturally procreating are slim. Help me this one time. Keep my Ana’s rescue from your Senate, and in exchange, the Drahzda will leave you in peace.”
Alexandra’s knuckles whitened as she gripped the phone. “For how long?”
“Until your legacy is through.”
“And the cloning research?”
“Will be buried for generations to come.”
The Chancellor stood and went to the window. Hundreds of spectators milled about, making their way to the stadium. A nata rode on her father’s shoulders while her mother held his hand. They disappeared under the arena’s arch, the Society’s anthem started to play, and the muffled cheers rumbled through the glass.
The Trials had been going on for thousands of years, bringing forth the best of their race. Sacrifices must be made so future generations could thrive. And as for her legacy? Hell, she’d made so many mistakes. First the debacle at her trials, which still haunted her to this day. And then that stupid decision to share a little Scythian technology with a few companies that were known for their global outreach. She had hoped the Allos would use the new capabilities to improve the lives of those suffering, but the corporations hoarded the breakthrough, and their profit margins were now in the billions, throwing the global economy into a tailspin. Her reign had seen the rise of the Drahzda as well as the birth of new Allos terrorist factions, which were just as dangerous and ruthless as any adversary their culture had faced. And under her watch, the Society had lost more warriors in the last fifty years than in the previous fifteen hundred combined. She’d be damned if the entire Scythian race fell, too.
Penn’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Decide, Lexi. Which story will be reported in your news tomorrow? Will it be a piece about how your warriors discovered a hidden Drahzda terrorist cell and saved the Trials, or will it be that you had a torrid affair with Dmitri Sarkov and Anya Thalestris was abducted right under your nose?”
Damn it.
Tradition. Honor. Valor. These were the things Scythians wanted to see during the trials, not the last of Otrera’s line being taken from them.
And an all-out war wasn’t something they could afford right now.
“One warrior dies on Scythian soil, and I’ll go to the press myself.”
“Noted.”
Her shoulder’s slumped as she hung up the phone. She turned from the window and grabbed the crystal decanter and a glass.
Chapter Thirty
Nya’s team stood by the door, each with the same awed expression they had last time. A mineral salt bath had helped with the hives, but Nya still insisted on wearing her hair down. The French woman, Brigitte, braided a wreath around her head and wove jasmine through it, the white flowers matching her dress.
“Nya glanced at the clock. “Why did you request to meet me so early if we were going to finish a few hours before the start of the event?”
“Beg pardon, your guide set the time, not I,” Brigitte said.
The door opened, and Victor sauntered in. “Thank you for your service to the house of Otrera. That will be all.”
Nya scowled as he calmly ushered out her team, closing the door and locking it behind them.
“What the hell is the meaning of this?”
He ignored her tone. “Come. We have much to discuss.”
She took a deep breath. It would be pointless to try and get out of it. Victor was like a pit bull with a bone. “Lead the way.”
He crossed the room to the sitting chamber and took his seat.
Nya found her spot and rested her hands on her lap, her thumb nowhere near her scar. “Now what is it you would like to discuss?”
“Let’s start with your time with the Moor.”
She didn’t blink. Never moved. “What about Aren?”
“He seems to think your little tryst in the planetarium may have sparked a memory.”
“Not at all.” She squarely met his gaze. “I became overwhelmed. I’ve spoken with Aren about it, and we’ve moved on.”
He took in her relaxed shoulders, her motionless hands and unwavering gaze and sighed. “Are you sure that’s all there is?”
“Yes. Now was there anything else?”
“Jax. He’s back from his mission.”
Her eyes flashed with pain before she schooled her expression again. “Yes, and I’m happy to see that he made it back in one piece.”
“You were worried that he wouldn’t?”
“Dr. Ramova—”
“Victor.”
“The Chancellor wouldn’t have asked him to leave his Trials had it not been something big. That alone would lead to the logical conclusion that danger was involved.”
“You’ve avoided discussing your feelings on the matter of his leaving in the first place.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. He was ordered to go.”
Victor kept his eyes locked on hers. She calmly gazed back.
“Fine. Let’s move on to the warrior you spoke with today.”
“Pacha. He’s from the Andes Mountains.”
“He seemed interested,” Victor commented, pulling out his glasses.
“He was. He offered me another option. One I’d never considered before.”
Victor reached for his pad and pen. “Which was?”
“He said I didn’t have to sacrifice my future to escape the past.”
Victor scribbled something across his pad. “And how did that make you feel?”
“Tempted.” The word left her lips before she could stop it.
Victor’s pen stopped midsentence, and he looked over the rim of his glasses. “Surely all your time with Dr. Nickius has taught you that running doesn’t solve anything.”
“Disappearing would, though.”
He placed his pad and pen on the side table and leaned forward. “No, Anya. The Incan is wrong. The only way to embrace your future is to face your past. Deep down, you know that.”
Nya turned away. “Are we done here, Dr. Ramova?”
Victor sighed and leaned back in his seat, picking up his pen and notepad. “Not by a long shot.”
A few hours later a haggard Nya and an extremely frustrated Victor emerged from her sitting room. She had endured two hours of the good doctor’s endless questions and constant prodding. The male had tried everything, but she’d managed to get through the session without breaking down and telling him that she might not pick Jax for his own good and Alexandra was a traitor.
Warriors crowded the corridors as they made their way down the stairs and into the dining hall. Nya glanced at Xari’s table. Her stunning purple dress was at odds with the scowl marring her face.
“Something’s wrong,” Nya veered toward her friend. “I’ll be right back.”
Victor took her elbow, stopping her. “The press is here.”
“I thought they weren’t allowed to take photos of formal events.”
“The only exemption being the naming of the Chosen and the final rounds.”
Nya glanced around the room, noticing the sleek camera drones silently hovering in each corner, a small light blaring as they all pointed toward her.
She forced herself to smile, and Victor directed her toward her table. “Might I suggest catching up with Toxaris after you’ve both declared your Chosen? It seems unlikely she’ll be candid and open
at the moment. And we all know how frustrating that can be, now don’t we?”
He raised an eyebrow, but Nya ignored the jab.
“What does it matter? The press will still be here after dinner.”
“Not exactly. They’re only allowed to film the champions making their declarations and then entering the consulate. The celebration afterward is off limits.”
Why in the hell hadn’t she realized the entire world would be watching when she declared her Chosen?
It was probably because she’d grown up in a household that never watched the Trials.
Jax focused on Nya as soon as she entered the room. Her tense shoulders and Doc’s worn expression must have meant the session didn’t go well.
She glanced at the drones and notably tensed. Ah, Victor must’ve informed her about the press joining them for dinner.
More pressure for his Vtachi. He hated that.
Her eyes flitted to a warrior along the wall, and he winked.
Jax tensed as he watched the interaction. The male’s dark skin and tribal costume told of his South American heritage. Incans were almost as brutal as Tovas, only they were one of the few Scythians that chose to isolate themselves from the rest of the Society. Rarely did they leave their villages and venture into the world.
“Here she comes,” Killian muttered. Everyone at the table stood.
“Otrera couldn’t have been as stunning as Dea,” Giovanni said.
“She does look like a goddess tonight.” Luka fidgeted with his sash, making sure it was straight.
Killian’s jaw clenched at the comment, obviously not liking the other two ogling her any more than Jax did.
Aren looked away.
Jax took a deep breath, reminding himself for the thousandth time that this was all part of the process. Once Nya shouldered his mark, and he hers, everyone would know they belonged to one another. God willing, this primal urge to tear out the other warriors’ throats would finally go away.
“Good evening, sweet Dea.” Giovanni stepped forward.
Her eyes darted to the Incan as Giovanni leaned in and kissed her on her cheek.
The others followed suit, and each time it was the same.
Jax finally stood and made his way toward her. He completely blocked her view of the male by the wall. But instead of leaning in for a sweet peck on the cheek, he placed his hands on her shoulders and tugged her to him. His fingers dug into the spiral dragon guarding the empty space on her arm as he brought his lips to her ear.
“I don’t know what in the hell is going on in that complex head of yours, but I’m half tempted to haul your ass out of here, even if you’re kicking and screaming.”
She pulled back, as her eyes sparked back to life. “Go ahead and try.”
Jax kept her gaze, watching that spark grow dim. God. The last thing his Vtachi needed was his aggression. He groaned and kissed her shoulder. “Apologies. Where’s a cliff to scale or a ravine to jump when you need it?”
Something between laughter and a sob sounded as Nya leaned her head on his chest. “You have no idea how many times I wished for the same thing.”
He nudged her chin up until her eyes met his. “I’m right here, Vtachi.”
She took a deep stuttered breath, her voice barely making it past her lips. “But you deserve better.”
Jax frowned as she turned and took her place at the table.
What the hell was that about?
Hammers pounded over the buzz of a circular saw as Sergei passed by Ana and the Tsar’s suite. This was insane. These men were tearing out walls and using hidden passageways, and they hadn’t been thoroughly vetted. There wasn’t time. Hell, he had to double Penn’s guard to keep him secure. Drahzda soldiers were expected within a few days, but that didn’t help his men now. They were stretched too thin.
They’d take a serious hit if the Scythians attacked before the other units arrived.
He headed up the stairs to the parapet, Penn’s favorite spot of late. The Drahzdan leader had been tense, which usually ended with someone either being punished or put to death. But not this time. This time he seemed to turn inward, withdrawing from the activities around him.
Sergei waited until he was in Penn’s periphery before speaking. “I’ve ordered six more units to come into the area. Three will infiltrate the villages we’ve not yet taken, and the remaining three will stand guard outside the perimeter. The units should be here by the week’s end.”
Penn nodded that he had heard and kept his eyes toward the road. “I’d like your counsel.”
Sergei’s brow rose. Stephan was his right-hand man, and Sarkov had a roomful of advisors. In all the years he’d known him, He’d never asked for any advice.
“It would be my honor.”
Penn glanced over before focusing back on the road. “Stephan and his men are in Romania. By the time the sun rises, my Ana will be on her way home.”
Sergei stayed silent and nodded.
“Will our forces be ready if the Scythians attack?”
He chose his words carefully. “I’m sure our men will be up to the task. If I remember correctly when you brought your Ana to Astana the first time, we prepared for an invasion, and yet it never came. They have the same leader, yes?”
“The Chancellor has not changed, not even after Chevnia.”
Sergei scoffed. “Maybe they are not as strong as we fear.”
“My father had her under control. I have the same leverage.”
Sergei smiled. “That is a good thing.”
Silence settled as a breeze whispered through the trees.
“I used that to taunt Ana, you know.” Penn rested his arms on the stone wall. “When I set her triggers, I kept reminding her that she’d been abandoned by her own kind and they weren’t coming for her. It was working until the fertility specialists came to harvest her eggs, and then something changed.”
Sergei kept his stoic expression firmly in place. “Stephan mentioned that you’ve sent for the scientists that helped with the procedure. Do you think there is an issue?”
Penn shoulder’s slumped. “Yes. At the time, I didn’t make the correlation. But looking back now? Now I just don’t know.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, what was different?”
“For one thing, her will became iron. She no longer cared if she lived, but if she died, she wanted to take me with her. And she seemed stronger and healed faster than before. We needed to do something, so we set sail for Ireland. If I destroyed all that she had, she’d break. It was the only way. I discovered that she needed constant pain to remain manageable, and so before we made port, I shackled one hand to the railing and put a knife through the other, pinning it to the floor. It was the only thing I could think of to assure she didn’t get away. I wanted her to watch the compound burn.”
“That was the night the Tovaris took her.”
Penn stood, his gaze left the road and landed on Sergei. “Yes, I still hear her screams calling out for me as they carried her away. The blood fires must have been brutal because I’ve never heard such a sound before or since. I’d defended her as best I could, but my guard was either dead or fighting when the warriors made their way to us. I had been shot but managed to escape by jumping overboard. And then he took her, the Tovaris leader took my Ana from me. Keeping close to the hull, I tracked her screams, hoping to rescue her when they made it to water. And then the screaming just stopped. I searched the dock and saw a warrior hand her slumped body to her father. At first, I feared the pain was too great, and she had died. But then she stirred, putting her arms around his neck. I wanted to invade that night, but we had lost too many, and I was injured. They sank the cargo ship, and what was left of our crew managed to survive until we were rescued.”
“It may not seem it, but her being taken may have turned out for the best.” Sergei kept his voice soft. “It gave us much needed time. Time to reorganize the troops and prepare this part of the region for you.”
For once,
Penn didn’t lose control and fly into a rage. “I’ve thought that as well. The Drahzda are stronger than ever, and the hatred in the region has increased our numbers significantly. It is time for my Ana to come home.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Dinner had been something short of torture as Nya silently plowed through eight courses. Her males followed her lead and stayed quiet as well. Cameras panned from left to right, sweeping across conversation and laughter before settling on her table, which was silent as a tomb.
Mercifully, the traditional fruit dessert was served, and she set down her fork. Victor placed his napkin on his plate and stood, waiting for her to join him.
They wove through the other champions enjoying their dessert, and Nya idly wondered if their leaving early seemed strange.
Not that she really cared.
Light gleamed across the marble foyer, its onyx Scythian symbol mocking her as she walked across the floor. Her official candidates followed close behind, their somber footsteps echoing in the vast hall.
Victor opened the front door and calmly escorted her down the stairs.
“This is a perfect night for a Choosing.” He smiled as he took in the crisp clean air. “Don’t you think so, Anya?”
She ignored him and rolled her head from side to side. They strayed from the cobblestone path and headed into the woods. Solar lights hanging from tall trees left soft splotches of light along the narrow track. Night owls hooted as a gentle breeze blew, the chill causing Nya’s bare shoulders to pebble like gooseflesh.
They neared a clearing, and Nya’s steps faltered. Thousands of candles lined the perimeter, their pure white light flickering and dancing in the wind. Wooden benches, darkened and worn, stood row after row, angled toward an amphitheater at the front. Mounted cameras nestled on low-lying branches, their tell-tale red light blinking off then on as technicians checked the equipment. The semi-circular dome reminded Nya of her last round of the championships, where Jax held her in the fog-laden arena.
The Scythian Trials Page 27