Betrayed: Magi Rising Book 1

by Wagner, Raye

  Zerôn wore a simple bathing sulu around his waist, but the garment and his body were spattered and slicked with blood. In one hand he wielded a blade, and in the other he clutched a gruesome hunk of something—membrane? Organ? His face contorted with rage, and he leaned forward, screaming at Basvîk who was likewise yelling at his master.

  How was it possible for Basvîk to defy the kümdâr, because defiance was a gross understatement.

  I stared in awe as Basvîk lunged at Zerôn, and the kümdâr kicked his servant so hard he flew across the room and out of my peripheral vision. But I couldn’t look away from the kümdâr and the bloody hunk in his hand. Zerôn turned and backhanded my sister next, and her mouth opened in a soundless scream. He bellowed something and shoved her to the floor on his way to the writhing magî on the cot.

  Bîcav stepped from behind me, but before he had time to cross to the other side of the doorway, Zerôn drove the knife into the magî on the cot, the male bucking against the ropes.

  No.

  Zerôn jerked the blade down and… plunged his hands into…

  Zîvrünê…

  Zîvrünê’s chest.

  I sucked in the horrific realization just as Bîcav emerged on the other side of the window. The weight of understanding slammed into me, and time sped forward. Anguish, horror, rage… exploded. I shrieked, a blood-thirsty bellow of hatred and wrath, as I raced into the linoxa.

  “No!” I sprinted past my sister crumpled on the ground, past Bîcav and Zerôn locked in a fight, and fell to the side of the cot where Zîvrünê lay, bloodied and gasping for breath.

  Ruin’s soul pressed to my side, and I tilted my head to the canopy and screamed.

  “Do it now,” Bîcav snarled from behind me. “Heal him, or I will decapitate you. I’ll be done before any of your other Serîk even arrive.”

  Hope sparked in my chest. I sucked in the emotion greedily, turned to Zîvrünê… and sagged to the floor with a wail of sorrow.

  Zîvrünê’s soul crouched next to me. He studied me, a sad smile thinning his lips. I blinked to clear my tears so I could see him, and his compassion nearly undid me. Bringing my fist to my mouth, I stifled my sobs. The anguish of his death threatened to drown me, clogging my throat and severing my heart, and I whimpered, unable to rein in the pain. Rünê…

  Even in death he was beautiful.

  “Don’t cry.” His gaze traveled over me, as if he were trying to memorize me. “Your tears always hurt more than anything else, my love.”

  “No,” I gasped through the tears. “Please… I don’t… want you… to leave. I need…” I choked on the words, powerless to stop the hemorrhage of emotion. Incoherent thoughts flitted through my mind, and all the reasons I could ask him to stay vanished, until only the truth remained. “I’m not ready for you to go.”

  “There’s no way to put me back,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Zerôn has grafted so much panthera into my body, I’m not fully magî anymore.” He laughed, a low chuckle tinged with sadness. “That’s why I bit you.” He reached forward but halted shy of touching me. “You can’t break the rules of mortality this time, Dîsa,” he said with a sigh. “There’s no way to put me back and have me live.” His eyes widened, and he pointed at the panthera soul at my side. “What is that?”

  “Zädîsa!” Bîcav bellowed, making me jump.

  From the look on his face, that wasn’t the first time he’d yelled my name. As soon as our gazes locked, Bîcav tilted his head toward Zîvrünê’s body—his chest now sealed.

  I blinked, my mind racing, racing, racing… I looked at Ruin and then to Zîvrünê.

  He met my stare with those vibrant-blue eyes I loved. Oh, I loved him so much. What would it take to bring him back? Could two souls inhabit the same body? The wrongness of the thought bludgeoned me, but what if…

  My heart thundered against my ribs, and my mouth dried. Would he forgive me? Was it even possible?

  If Zerôn had managed to merge their bodies, could I merge—

  “Dîsa!” Bîcav shouted, cutting through my thoughts. “Serîk will be here any minute.”

  “And they will kill you all,” Zerôn sneered despite the blade at his throat. “Foolishness. What do you hope to accomplish, Dîsa? Do you think you have the power to thwart my vision?” His eyes, hard and cruel but alive with purpose, sparked brighter. “Or will you join me? Walk by my side while we change Qralî, and we will be the Apex of all.”

  “Don’t believe him,” Zîvrünê whispered next to me.

  I shook my head and, turning back to Zîvrünê, smiled at the magî I loved. My heart swelled with the emotion. It was so big, so grand, so all-consuming that my body was insufficient to contain the quantity and quality of it. I held my hand out, palm up, and my soul thrummed with joy as Zîvrünê placed his hand against mine.

  The room fell away, and I asked him, “Will you stay?”

  “You know I can’t,” he replied, threading his fingers through mine. “But I will find you again.”

  Where? When? Where would he be in the next life? And even if he was born today, I would be here until I died. I wasn’t naive enough to think Zerôn would let me go. So, how many lives would pass before we could be together again? How many had already passed?

  Ruin’s soul bumped me, and I swayed with the force. I glanced at the great cat, ran my hand down his silky fur, and made my decision. If Zerôn broke the rules to get what he wanted, I would remake the rules to get what I wanted. And then I’d do whatever I had to—whatever it took—to destroy him.

  But first, and most importantly, I would save my love.

  “Ruin.” I breathed his name, petting the panthera. I tried to put all my emotions for the animal into each stroke. “Come back to me. Come back, and we will exact your revenge.” I broke contact with Zîvrünê, placed my hand on the chest of the corpse, a blending of panthera and magî, and closed my eyes. Opening my soul to the beautiful Apex predator, I thought of my love of the animal as a child, my ache of sorrow when I’d met the beast, my worry when he’d disappeared, and my sadness when I’d seen him dead. Flashes of protectiveness and possession—emotions and instincts that were not mine—blazed inside as the panthera’s soul slid through me and into Zîvrünê’s body.

  I rested both my hands on the body and whispered, “Hush.” Then I turned to Zîvrünê and begged, “Please?”

  “It won’t work.”

  “It will,” I said, filled with the fire of determination. “There is no way it won’t, because you will make it work. I’ll bind your souls, seal your magîk, mind, body, and soul, so the two of you will merge… and then you will come back to me. Please,” I begged as fresh tears streamed down my face. My heart thumped with the ticking sense of time running out. “Please. I need you—your strength, your wisdom, your kindness, your insight. It will be because of you that we’ll win.”

  “You have always given me more credit than I deserve,” he murmured, bowing his head.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head with fierce denial. “You’ve just never given yourself the credit you should.”

  He jerked upright, his eyes narrowing and jaw hardening. He stared at me, and his lips curled into a rare smile of triumph. He nodded once and held out his hand. “We’ll make it work… together.”

  I grabbed his hand, and he passed through me so fast all I felt was love—his for me or mine for him, I couldn’t even tell.

  The body bucked, and a low rumble of voices broke through my concentration. I shoved the distractions away, forcing myself to concentrate. It had been two years since Zîvrünê sealed my mind, body, and soul, and my memories of the ritual were faint… I’d have to wing it.

  “Bîcav,” I snapped, holding my hand out behind me. “Cut my hand!”

  Fire seared my palm, and crimson dripped between my fingers. I climbed up on the cot and straddled Zîvrünê’s bloody body. I could feel the two souls beneath me, their panic, and I placed my uninjured hand on his abdomen and leaned over him. Sl
iding my hand to his chest, I pressed my body to his. Then I rested my bloody palm to Zîvrünê’s head and considered how his mind—his poisoned thoughts—had been his greatest weakness because of his brother. No more.

  “Shh,” I whispered. “Don’t overthink, Rünê. Be still, Ruin.”

  Fear—so much fear—emanated from them, but both souls stilled with my coaxing.

  I closed my eyes and breathed in, filling my chest with air and love—all my love—and began. “With my magîk, I bind your mind, thoughts, and impulses. You shall not only see clearly, but you’ll trust your own judgment and act swiftly and with confidence.” Then I rested my hand over his arm, adding my blood to theirs. “With my magîk, I bind your body”—I pressed and dragged my hand over his bicep—“that you will have strength”—swipe—“stamina”— I thought of all his injuries with the next swipe—“and rapid healing.” I moved my hand to his abdomen. “With my magîk, I bind your souls and your magîk, that you will become one, Rünê, just as your mind and body are now one.”

  I stared at his face, his beautiful features gruesomely bathed in blood. The embodiment of everything good in Qralî was right here—in him. With the back of my hand, I wiped the crimson from his lips and, trusting the instinct which urged me closer, leaned over him again. I wiped the blood from his eyes, still shut but twitching with movement, and traced my fingers over his brow and down his jawline, smiling as his chest moved beneath me. I caught a whiff of sandalwood, and my smile grew.

  I brought my lips close to his and inhaled just as he exhaled, his breath was mine, as was his love. As our breath mingled, my lips moved against his, and I whispered, “With the power of my soul, I bind you together—whole and complete. And with my soul, I seal you, declaring you mine, just as I’m yours. Forever.”

  His hands tangled in my hair, and he pressed me closer. His chest was flush to mine, and his heart—his beautiful heart—pounded, spreading life and vigor through his being. He tilted his head and sealed our lips.

  My heart burst with joy. He sat us up and stroked my back, bringing me closer. He nipped at my lower lip, and I opened to him as he deepened the kiss. The saltiness of my tears mixed with the blood on our lips, but all I could taste was him. Our tongues tangled briefly before he broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to mine.

  “You did it,” he said.

  I blinked, my chest swelling with pride—for me, for him, for us. “We did it.”

  My moment of victory expanded, and for a single heartbeat, I knew all would be right.

  But with a shriek, the moment burst—shattered—and Rünê shoved me behind him. He released a vicious, inhuman snarl, and panic slashed through me.

  He tumbled from the cot, landing on all fours, and his cry of pain merged with the low yowl of a panthera, swallowing my gasp. His bloodied skin grew dusky. Pinpricks of black appeared, and with my next blink, the fine hairs of the panthera’s fur erupted over Rünê’s skin. Shaking, his body thickened, his limbs shortened, and his hands and feet morphed, becoming bigger, heavier. His black tail—his tail—twitched in the air. Thick nails, no… claws broke through the skin of his paws, and he shook his head as his mouth opened in a grating huff. His deadly canines elongated as his head and jaw widened.

  He growled, and the sound held no trace of the magî I loved, only the vicious sound of an apex predator. Rünê was gone, and in his place was the sleek black panthera.

  Ruin.

  20

  Today

  Ruin stalked through the linoxa, away from the cot and toward the kümdâr. The panthera bared his teeth and hissed, the hair rising on his hackles as his tail twitched. He stopped a dozen feet in front of me, lowering his chest as it rumbled with his anger.

  After scrambling up from the bloody floorboards, I tugged my tunic down and wiped my hands along the sides of the now filthy fabric.

  Zerôn somehow held his blade, and he now stood behind his bondmate, one arm around Zîyanâ’s waist and the other around her neck, holding the knife to her throat. He inched forward, keeping her body as a buffer between him and the great cat.

  My sister’s arms were extended, and she whimpered incoherently as her tears mixed with the blood streaking her face. Zerôn whispered something in her ear, lip curled in disgust, and then he said, louder, “Everyone stay back.”

  Bîcav stood and stared at the cat as if it were a puzzle he couldn’t find the next piece to. Basvîk climbed back to his feet, using one of the cots for support. His lip was split from whatever scuffle he’d had, and his murderous glare was fixed on his master.

  I took a deep breath and darted forward, dropping to the ground next to Rünê. Holy Kânkarä. What did I do? Running my hand over his fur, I whispered, “Hush, Rünê—Ruin. Hush.”

  Zerôn cleared his throat, and I jerked, surprised by his sudden proximity. How had he gotten so close? He stopped several paces from the deadly panthera and narrowed his eyes.

  Eyes widening, I looked up, past my sister’s wilting frame and stained face, to him. His cold, calculating expression indicated his fascination, and he seemed to be absorbing all that transpired. His gaze darted from the great cat to me, and he grinned.

  “Clever girl,” he said, eyes bright. “I never even thought to bind them together, but of course it makes sense that fusing two bodies bit by bit would need a magîk seal.”

  The panthera growled, but as he crouched low, ready to pounce, his legs gave out and he yipped.

  Rot.

  My breaths grew shallow, and I absently stroked his fur as I tried to calculate a plan that wouldn’t end up with Zîyanâ or Zîvrünê or all of us dead.

  “Basvîk,” Zerôn snarled, instructing his guard without ever glancing his way. “If you wish to live after your betrayal, I need you to get the Zîv into a cage.” The kümdâr grinned at me again. “We can’t have him accidentally getting away.”

  My attention flicked to the Serîk who blanched but otherwise didn’t move.

  “Now!” Zerôn screamed.

  The kümdâr and I kept our attention on the worst threat, but from my peripheral vision, I could see Basvîk shuffle off to do as instructed. I needed a distraction—no, I needed to immobilize, or better yet, kill the kümdâr. But I had no weapons. Ruin-Rünê was trembling beneath my hand, so I couldn’t count on him, and—

  “Tell me, Dîsa,” Zerôn said. “How can a lowly magî bind a zeta?” He flicked two of his fingers in my general direction before returning them to the hilt of the blade. “What power do you have that would allow you to bind them?”

  Like I would ever tell him. Let him think whatever he wanted; I would never do anything to aid him.

  He glanced at my magî bands, and his eyes widened. “What’s happening to your marks?” When I didn’t reply, he pressed the blade to Zîyanâ’s throat until blood beaded beneath the dagger. “Zîyanâ, my love,” he emphasized the endearment as though it were a profanity. “What is happening to your sister’s marks?”

  “What… marks?” Zîyanâ gasped between her sniffling.

  I glanced down at my arm, and the air sucked from my lungs. My bands, the blue lines surrounding my biceps, were gone, and even the bright golden zeta bands were fading, leaving a trail of moisture running down my arm like drops of water… or blood.

  “Who bound you?” Zerôn asked, surprise blasting his expression into open wonder. “Zîyanâ?” he snarled, the blade biting deeper into her neck. “Did you mark her?”

  My sister cowered back, but she didn’t move her neck as she squeaked out her denial.

  Zerôn’s gaze slid to Rünê… or Ruin… or the new creature I’d created. “The Zîv bound you,” Zerôn stated in breathless awe.

  I could see him trying to put the pieces together, and I knew what would happen if he did. The only reason the markings would fade is if the one who gave them to me died. And if he died, but was no longer dead… I inhaled, pulling the swirling chaos of my thoughts together, only to have the wisps of rebuttal and defense flit away
as panic thundered through me. I shook my head, willing him to guess wrong, because there was no way to deny what had happened.

  “You’re a necromancer,” he said. Evil triumph oozed over his features like spreading oil. With a maniacal grin, he crowed, “Of course you are. Of course!”

  I wasn’t sure what to do, what to say, how to get away. Even knowing the urgency of the situation, I couldn’t make myself move.

  “The others died. They’ve always died. I thought it had to do with their strength—”

  “It d-does,” I stammered, desperate to tell him truth and also mislead him. “It won’t work for just any—”

  Stop talking, Dîsa.

  I blinked, my surprise holding my tongue more than the voice in my head. I didn’t need to look to see who was speaking, for there was only one magî in the room with the capacity.

  I’ll help, but we need to work together. I-I want to get Zîyanâ out.

  I inclined my head; we all wanted to get out.

  “Basvîk!” Zerôn bellowed. He shifted to look for his guard, and my sister shrieked as the dagger sliced into her skin.

  Ruin jerked with the noise and then lunged forward, swiping his deadly claws across my sister as she stumbled. Caught off guard, Zerôn fell with her, the two of them landing on the ground in a series of thuds.

  Ruin snarled at the kümdâr, and with a thwap, thwap, thwap batted the sovereign with his paw. The panthera shivered, released a low yowl, and then bounded out of the linoxa.

  Shock delayed my response for only one deep breath, and I screamed, “Bîcav!”

  He should know exactly what he needed to do, but instead of leaving, the magî guard rushed to me.

  “I am to stay with you. It’s what Rünê would’ve wanted.”

  Grabbing the front of his tunic, I thumped him in the chest as I ground out, “If you don’t go find him right now, I’ll never forgive you.”

  His eyes widened, and he dropped his gaze. “You better—”

  “Get. Out!” I’ll find you in the sanctuary… Find him and meet me there!