The Taken

by Nikki Hunter

  “You don’t seem so powerful now.” Katrice leaned back, laughing, her hands firmly planted against her hips.

  A powerful wind whipped at Camila’s hair carrying a new voice past her. A familiar voice. “Camila?”

  Wide eyed, she turned her face across the small valley. Emerging from the tree line across from them, Bekket stepped out. His blonde hair, unruly as it tangled in the wind. He looked ever as regal as the queen. The shock of seeing him, created an odd mixture of feelings. Her lips tingled as if remembering his kisses but the fear of the emotions that hadn’t entirely been her own put out the fire of lust.

  “Aww, your heroes have arrived.” The queen gestured to the men as one by one they filed out from the dark veil of the trees.

  Unsteady heartbeats filled Camila’s ears as she saw their faces. The shock. The anger.

  She could only imagine how she looked right now. Tied up, unshowered, bloody and bruised before them. Her brown eyes enlarged as she saw Kym stop to stand next to Yehven. How dare her? How dare she stand with these men? Camila could still recall the feeling of the blade Kym had held, running across her throat. The warm blood that dripped down onto her chest as life escaped her.

  And the men. Her men. Were they working with Kym now? Had they found her arms to be more loving than Camila’s? So quick to move on to another?

  Ignoring the soreness in her body, Camila growled, trying to stand up. Her eyes narrowed on Kym who smiled back with her perfected eat shit grin. Before both feet were under her, Vargan’s large hand clamped over her shoulder, pushing her back onto her knees.

  “No.” Bekket’s voice was firm. “If you think we came here to watch you torment Camila, we are done.”

  The queen’s laugh was so light and airy, as if she was unaware of the tension that held onto everyone around her.

  “Fuck this meeting.” Kade growled. “I’m getting Camila back.” He stepped forward causing a domino effect of movement as the guards around them all stepped towards him. The thick feeling of magic was heavy in the air. Bekket held out his arm, his eyes pleading for Kade to stay put. Kade exchanged a weary glance at Lance who only shook his head.

  Just being in their presence again. Being near the men had stirred up emotion in Camila she didn’t think she would feel without the presence of a bond. Being so close to them had given her some form of comfort. Knowing they were going to be on her side, they were going to care and protect her to the best of their abilities.

  Now they would be parting ways again soon. Camila took a long look at the group trying to memorize their faces.

  She peered past Kym with her undying wicked smirk to Yehven. His hair that was normally spiraling in untamed curls brushed down against his forehead, his beard longer than it had been kept, his golden eyes sparking as their gazes met. His lips parted as if he might speak, but they only released a long shaky breath.

  The perfect comb of his hair left Camila wanting to tousle it, mess it up. Make him look more relaxed. Not that this was the time for that or anything.

  Next to him was Lance, his dark eyes filled with worry. His cheeks somehow more hollow than the last time she had seen him. His worry was probably for a good reason.

  Behind Lance was Zayn, electricity still sparking in his palms. Unable to put his guard down. Not a trace of that playful humor he always had lingered on his solemn face.

  Then lastly, Kade. Kade was an image of fury. His cheeks red, something deadly simmering behind his stormy eyes. Camila watched the steady movement of the air filling his lungs, knowing he was okay.

  “You’ve all been kissed by the Realm Renegade and now you’ve lost your damn minds.” Katrice finally spit out.

  Realm Renegade? Camila twisted to her left glancing up at the queen.

  “What are you talking about?” Lance pressed, his jaw ticking.

  “You may be living with Queen Noryn but she has failed to share with you any news of importance.” She waved her hand in dismissal. “Typical of her. Your beautiful play thing doesn’t like to follow the rules,” Katrice said as she wrapped her hand into Camila’s long tangle of hair, the force of her hair yanking her up to stand and casting her face to the ground. “She’s a free agent. One that is powerful enough to hurt a fate.”

  It was hard for Camila to think past the pain as the queen continued to tighten her hand on her. A small whimper escaped her.

  Astounded. Camila writhed under the queen’s touch, amazed at her last sentence. What she was saying couldn’t be real. Could it? No one was strong enough to hurt a fate. At least no one from her realm.

  “We aren’t here for your games, Katrice,” Bekket spat. “I know what you have done and now so does half of the kingdom. Restore your lands to the once peaceful home it was and release any fae that is being held without reason.”

  “We also,” Kade interjected, receiving surprised glances from Lance and Bekket, “want the party responsible for breaking into Queen Noryn’s castle. The party responsible for breaking our bond.” His hand pointed, unwavering, at where Camila stood.

  “You all are being far too dramatic. I suggest you get a hold of yourself before you lose your heads.” Her thin arm reached out, a magic spelled wind picking up. A powerful hand made of air itself stretched across the field circling Kade, who reached up, clawing at his throat, his body lifting up from the ground under his feet. The sound of his gasping, of the painful burning that existed in his lungs, sent a shiver of panic through Camila.

  Zayn’s palms lit up with electricity as if to threaten the queen. But Camila was closer. With the energy she had left, Camila twisted, ignoring the painful pull of her hair, and kicked Katrice as hard as she could. Her foot met the queen’s slender body, sending them both stumbling in opposite directions.

  With a loud thud, Kade fell back to the ground, catching himself on his knees. Loud wheezing, the air finally making its way back to Kade’s body had Camila sagging with relief.

  Strong hands wrapped around Camila’s biceps as Vargan shook her. “You’ve lost your ever loving mind!”

  “Vargan, let her go,” Katrice drawled, seemingly unaffected by the assault. Vargan’s arms dropped from Camila, folding behind his back in a military stance. Katrice stepped up, her height towering over Camila as she breathed, “You wanna play with the big leagues, bitch, you’re gonna have to do better.”

  Air hissed passed Camila’s lips with the biting ache of the queen’s knee colliding with her solar plexus.

  “Enough!” Lance bellowed, settling the valley in an uneasy silence. “Queen Katrice, we’ve come here for you to settle your mistakes, for you to make the right choice and return to the path that leads to all that is good.”

  The queen’s laugh finally broke the long pause in the bittersweet reunion. “Oh, you all know I can’t do that. I won’t do that.”

  “Why not?” Bekket asked.

  “Because I’m not done.” She hissed, swiveling to walk a few steps back, her long robe flung behind her. “You are lucky I haven't claimed your lives for resisting the command you were given.”

  “You can give them release from the magic that is binding them and turn from your cruel ways and this will all be over. We can avoid war yet.” Bekket pleaded.

  “My dearest nephew, that’s where you are wrong. The war has already begun.” The queen turned back to Camila. “I’ll tell you what. I will release the magic that holds onto their lives. If...if she will pick between you five.”

  Camila blinked. Her last sentence echoing in her head. Pick between them. She shook her head, that was a terrible idea. Even if they were no longer bonded, no longer mates, how could she choose?

  “Let’s up the stakes, shall we? Pick one to save. The other’s will fight their way out of this meeting. If they survive, then the magic that’s taunting their insignificant lives from their ties to their duties at the tear will be lifted from their lives.”

  They were each here, fighting for her, fighting against something as cruel as this queen. This que
en who only seemed to be backed by demons. Perhaps she was right, war had been here for a long time. War had been here since demons fled the human realm. They planted their dark seed in another race. The fae.

  Camila stilled, trying to calm her racing pulse. She glanced at Vargan who stepped forward and removed the gag from her now dry mouth. They weren’t bonded, she should be able to choose one. She had no magical ties to all five of them now. Five. The queen was right, that was a lot of men. But there was no way to choose. Not now, most likely not ever. Camila cursed herself for holding onto the memories of the bond, the ones that told her somehow all of these men were made for her. She doubted just one man could handle her anyway. No, she couldn’t—wouldn’t—choose.

  “No,” she finally said.

  “No?” Katrice laughed. “As if you have a choice. Choose now or I’ll let the magic take all of their lives.”

  The men all stood with their gazes firmly held on Camila. Were they all wishing for their own name to be called?

  “Choose Lance,” Bekket finally said, hanging his head as he did. “Not that these others don’t deserve the opportunity...but Lance...Lance should lead this war.”

  Camila glanced at the others. Lance didn’t bother to hide the shock from his face as his lips parted and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. The others all seemed to be nodding slightly, agreeing with Bekket.

  “How noble.” Katrice rolled her eyes. “So? Time is running out, Realm Renegade.”

  “Lance,” Camila whispered, terrified by the decision.

  “You know what, Camila. I’m in a giving mood and my nephew has shown how truly wonderful he is by saving someone else.” She grinned. “Both Lance and Bekket will come to the castle. They shall be the entertainment when they fight to the death. Then you shall have your mate.”

  “What?” Bekket bellowed, his mouth was pressed into a hard line. His chest rising and falling with a visible anger. But in that second, he was gone and so was Lance.

  “Good luck, boys.” She waved her delicate fingers as she turned with the demons close on her heels.

  “Vargan, they have seen enough.”

  Vargan nodded slowly, reaching for Camila’s ropes. In a few long strides the queen returned to Camila’s side. “Ignorant jin. We’ve already snuck right under your nose.” She projected her voice across the field as she spoke. “You didn’t even notice your own enemy was prancing around in front of you.”

  “I figured out I was in the midst of a demon, when Kym took a blade to my throat.” Camila growled, staring hard back at the queen. All attention turned to Kym, who only rolled her eyes.

  “Not Kym.” Katrice began. “Yehven.” A sly smile gracing her narrow lips in triumph. The queen who would rue the day she ever touched Camila’s men with her magic.

  “What?” Camila snapped, twisting in her binds to face the men. Yehven’s gaze fell towards the ground, unable to meet their angry faces. “Yehven? Is that true?”

  “Poor Camila, no one ever tells you the whole story do they?” She taunted. “But it’s true. Yehven left your pathetic alliance and ran to a new world.”

  Hurt plagued Camila’s face as she willed herself to meet Yehven’s sorrow filled eyes as he looked up to her.

  Katrice chuckled as she looked between Camila and Yehven’s intense stare. “That’s enough of that. Now, be gone.” She snapped her fingers.

  In a blur the forest was gone. The men were gone.

  Camila stumbled, her hands pressing against the wood of the desk that sat in the small tent she had stayed in for far to long now. “Yehven?” She murmured, looking at Vargan.

  “I don’t even know which fool that is,” he muttered under his breath quickly leaving the tent.

  Camila had recognized the demons that stood behind the queen so quickly. What were Kym and Yehven doing that they could hide their scent so easily? She pulled her hand up to rest by her racing heart. She supposed it made sense why Yehven was so resistant, why he didn't want to love her. Was it just a game for him when he gave in? When their passion had met in one moment that Camila knew she was unlikely to forget?

  She had hated the demons with every fiber of her being. How could one have stolen her heart so quickly?

  Chapter Nine

  The Message

  Layla finally stopped. Pausing from her run to pant as she squinted into the forest in thought, her hands rested lightly against her hips. On a good day she would make five trips around the camp on her run. On a day like today, one where her thoughts consumed her and her inquiring mind produced more questions yet to be answered, she made ten. Yet, she had just completed her fifteenth round.

  Char hadn’t pestered her; he never had, when she had disappeared to run. He always gave her the distance she needed; something she was beyond grateful for. The sun had begun to set, fading pinks and yellows hidden behind the heavy branches above her, leaving just enough light for her to see the trampled path before her.

  This camp had been Layla’s home for so long now. She had finally come into her own here. Her magic had stilled here in this camp as she fought to prove she was a worthy soldier. Powers very much similar to Lance’s. She couldn’t control how people perceived things by creating false images or alter the way she looked, but she could run through reality, at least that’s what she called it. That feeling she got, the knowledge that became hers when she released her magic mid battle. She stepped on the stones of other dimensions, tendrils of fae deviltry touching and reporting back every possible outcome of her immediate reality.

  Char had watched her in the act. He said it looked as though she was about to flicker away but instead of her image quivering until it disappeared, it was as if she had been eaten by darkness or willingly slid behind some sort of imaginary door. Very descriptive terms, she thought, as she laughed to herself.

  In her next breath, Layla could feel something in the forest change. A new feeling that raised the hairs on her arms and caught the breath of all the animals that scurried throughout the forest, even the wind seemed to stall its magnificent exhale. She glanced back to where she could see the camp and a few men milling about only fifteen yards away. She knew she could make it, if she needed too. She could slide across the very dimensions that hold this realm together to land there in seconds should the emergency arise.

  However, it was the shuttering of a nearby bush that moved while everything else in the forest stood at attention, the shape of it changing in the way she swore she could make out a hand and then a human face amongst the greenery. Layla blinked, trying to focus on the swirling pattern of the leaves, instinctively leaning away.

  No, she thought, whatever was happening here wasn’t her problem, she needn't be witness to whatever creature caused the ever bustling woods to cower in their presence. The heel of her foot twisted in the dirt turning back towards camp, lifting her leg to begin a sprint back to Char and the others but her muscles failed to move as the creature spoke.

  “Layla, Layla Suddeth.” A voice so familiar, but almost forgotten, the noise from the distant memories of her mother. Her body hummed as every bit of her curiosity peaked, every cell asking to be touched by the mother she lost so young. With a careful ease, she let herself turn back towards the deeper part of the forest, expecting to see her mother-hoping to see her mother.

  “Holy gods above!” she shrieked, jumping backwards out of surprise. It wasn’t her mother that stood before her, or even some form of physical being. Rich green leaves from the bush floated before Layla in the shape of a woman, large flowers from the nearest trees woven into a tangle of long hair, the center of two purple carnations blinking back at her. Nature moved like a woman, long breaths lifting her chest as she tilted her head at Layla.

  “I am not one of your many gods, my dear. I am the fate of mankind. Please, do not be weary in my presence for I only come bearing good news.” Each leaf moved with her as she spoke, red petals taking the place of parted lips.

  “Excuse me, you are... Who?” Layla brea
thed. “Why do you sound like my mother?”

  “Hmm,” the being hummed, “It’s a blessing and a curse I suppose. Always sounding like a mother.” The petals turned into a pleasant smile. “My name is Octavia.”

  “Oh.”

  Octavia let her hands wander the bark of the closest tree, her hair swaying back and forth in the nonexistent breeze as she thought. “Your gods tried so hard to mimic what I had done for my people. The home I had created. They did quite a good job, though it is easy to tell it is not… shall we call it designer? No, their creativity is merely a knock-off. A play on the idea of grace and beauty that would be unbeknownst to any kind had it not been a concoction of my own great mind.” She sighed dropping her hands and turning back to Layla. “Shall, I get on to why I have made such a grand appearance in another’s world? Your gods will be calling on me soon for explanation.”

  Layla closed her mouth, after realizing she was staring so intently at Octavia. “Yes, please do.” She waved her hand in easy dismissal.

  “You have someone who belongs to me.”

  “I-I mean, I don’t.” Layla stuttered, thinking back to Camila. “She’s at my camp, yes, but I did not take her captive. She is not mine.”

  “Particulars.” Octavia’s floral features narrowed. “Our darling, Camila. She holds something very dear within her. Something that she is not yet aware of.”

  “You want it back?” Layla guessed, her hands squeezing into nervous fists at her side.

  “No, darling.” The fate laughed. “I want you to make her aware.”

  Octavia stared off into the distance for a moment, her face relaxing. “You haven’t much time. Your large, bear like leader will be returning but not for long. He is leaving with Camila. Listen to me.” Soft vines with leaves lifted from the tower of floating body, arms reaching out to cup Layla’s face as she tried not to pull away from the power that resided in Octavia. “I created Camila. Loyal and fierce. She holds more power than anyone in our jin alliance ever has. Old magic, gifted from my own. To say I am paranoid of the inevitable would be correct. One day she will have to face the fates. Me and the two others. They grow more worrisome every decade. That day though, is not today. No, she needs this gift now, to help you.”