William took a sharp right. The tunnel began to climb steeply upward. They were heading toward the back of the mountain, and what was once an old coal mining operation, or so she had been told.
The old coal mines were creepy, hazardous, and filthy. Thankfully, William took a left and began to climb toward the other side of the mountain. The air became easier to breathe; the walls were still snug against them, but she didn't feel quite as pinned in.
Max's hand tightened around hers. She was grateful for his reassuring presence, his solid strength and warmth as he led her hastily forward. William stopped suddenly, causing the woman to bump into him roughly. They stood silently, straining to hear anything within the dark, damp space. They were a hundred feet from the end of the tunnel, only a hundred feet from freedom... or certain death.
"We have to move fast. Stay low and head straight for the woods. If we get separated for some reason we'll meet up again at the south edge of the lake," William instructed. "If we can't get to the south edge of the lake, we'll meet at the banquet tree."
The banquet tree was something she and William discovered when they were children. It was merely a huge apple tree, but it had seemed massive and fantastic to them as they spent hours climbing its limbs and gorging themselves on the apples they picked from it. For a couple of weeks every year they had an ample supply of fruit and aching bellies, but it was always worth it.
They were also the only ones who knew where the tree was. They had brought the fruit back to the camps, willingly sharing it with everyone, but they never revealed its location, and now that she thought about it, she didn't recall anyone ever asking. It was as if they all understood she and William required a place of their own and allowed them to keep it.
Aria's hand tightened around Max's. She understood William was mostly concerned with her safety, but she couldn't lose Max. He had risked his life for hers; he had sacrificed himself for her. She would not take the chance they were separated now.
She thought she should feel more guilt about possibly losing the others, but she didn't, not when it came to her brother and her friend. Their world was cruel, brutal, and for most people, it was every man for themselves, except for the few people who ran in somewhat larger circles as she did.
It was nice to have friends and family she could rely on, that she could trust with her life. The downfall of it all was the grief that would come with the loss of any one of them. She had been lucky so far.
William rushed forward, leading the way as they raced through the dark, up the slope, toward the unknown.
They plunged into the night. Aria inhaled large, greedy gulps of the fresh air, relieved to be free of the confining space of the caves. They were almost a hundred feet from the cave exit when screaming pierced through the rapid beat of her heart in her ears.
She froze, sadness coiling through her as she turned around. They were higher up on the mountainside, staring down across the way. The lake was beneath them, gleaming in the moonlight reflecting off it. Across the lake was the exit from the escape tunnel, hidden within a copse of trees.
The exit was selected because it was the farthest point from the main entrance and well concealed. It was also where the screams were coming from. Aria's mouth went dry; she took a step forward as revulsion and dread coursed through her. Across the lake she could see people scattering in every direction, fleeing as they tried to escape the monsters pursuing them.
Aria couldn't fully comprehend the carnage before her. They had to do something. Now! She darted forward, determined to get down there and help those people. Max seized her arm, pulling her back. She strained against him as he started to pull her toward the woods.
"We have to help!" she protested.
He grabbed her other arm, holding her before him as he shook her slightly. "There is nothing we can do, Aria; we have to go! We have to go now!"
She tried to fight him, but he kept his stern hold. "We can't just leave them!"
His eyes were dark, sad, broken in the moonlight. "It's too late for them." Her gaze turned back to the spectacle below her; she couldn't abandon them. "It's how we were caught before, Aria; you cannot heedlessly run in again."
His words froze her; she couldn't move as her heart labored to pump blood through her suddenly frigid body. It was how they were caught, it was her fault they were taken, and she couldn't allow that to happen again.
Her gaze wandered hopelessly over to William. He stood at the edge of the forest, waiting impatiently for them. The others had already fled into the darkness. If she tried to interfere again, William and Max would follow her and be caught.
There was nothing any of them could do to help the people being hunted. There was no way to stop the massacre raging below them, no way to silence the screams. There was no one to save them if they were caught again; no one would come to rescue them as Jack had blown his cover with his family.
The royal family knew Jack was a traitor now, and wouldn't welcome him back unless it was to torture and destroy him. They might not even be captured this time; they could be slaughtered outright.
Max gently pulled her back and away from the scene before them.
"Hurry!" William urged.
"It will be okay, Aria. It will be okay." Max wrapped his hand around the back of her head, pulling her close before tugging her toward the woods.
They plunged into the darkness and sped through the dense forest. William led the way, taking a zigzagging route toward the banquet tree.
Aria felt numb. The screams of the tortured followed her even after they were out of earshot. She fell against the giant tree, clinging to one of its branches while she wheezed for air she couldn't quite get. Her legs buckled as she dropped to her knees before their childhood tree. So many dreams and plans and hopes had grown from this spot.
Those dreams were gone now and in their place were bleak hopelessness and the echoing screams of the innocent. What was once a place of safety and shelter was now tainted by loss and suffering.
Beneath all of that, there was something new rising to course through her, a feeling she couldn't identify amidst all the agony and confusion tearing her apart. For a moment, she didn't know what it was consuming her. And then, she did.
It was hatred.
Pure and simple hate.
She hated this world of cruelty and the monsters who had created it. She hated it with everything she was. And she despised the monster who had done this to her; the creature who had stomped all over her heart and made her a broken shell of the person she once was.
And now, well now that shell was filling up again. That shell was infuriated and twisted and so hate-filled, she could barely breathe through its fiery consumption.
The prince, she loathed the prince, she realized.
There would be no more grieving for him; there would be no more wondering and heartache. What had passed between them was the past. It was over. She would forget it, she would move on, and if their paths ever happened to cross again. She would kill him.
Chapter Three
"There was a raid," Caleb said.
Braith silently pondered Caleb's words as the tailor moved deliberately around him. The man had finally stopped mumbling to himself, and although he continued to work, Braith knew he was listening raptly to the conversation.
"And?" Braith prodded.
"She was not amongst the captured."
"The dead?"
"No. The soldiers know she is to be brought back here alive if she's caught. That they all are."
Braith shrugged, disliking the feel of the coat he wore.
"No matter the orders, there are always casualties in war," he murmured.
He expected Caleb to leave after delivering the news. Even twisted, brutal Caleb didn't like being around him for any length of time anymore. No one did. Braith's temper had become volatile. His fury and paths of destruction were well known, and feared, amongst the residents of the palace.
A lot of blood had stained his hands o
ver the past two months; he’d consumed more blood in the past eight weeks than the past eight years. But it was not enough; it would never be enough to bury the hatred festering inside him.
His murderous rampage had died down, but only because he’d calmed enough to realize the deaths of innocent people didn't ease his rage and didn't make him forget as much as he hoped it would. Now he just consumed mass quantities of blood, but most of the time the people survived.
"Is there more?" he demanded impatiently of his brother.
Caleb cleared his throat. "She was not amid the dead, and she was not amongst the captured, but she was there."
Braith's head slowly came up as he turned toward his brother. He couldn't see Caleb; darkness ruled his life once more, but he could smell the faint hint of excitement rolling off his brother. He stood for a protracted moment, stunned by Caleb's words.
There had been no sign of Arianna since she left here, and though Braith could have found her at any time, he refused to lower himself by going after her, by making her think he desired her back because he didn't. She betrayed him after all; he wanted nothing more to do with the traitorous bitch.
And yet he felt apprehension rock through him. He would like her punished for her betrayal, would like her to suffer for what she’d done to him, but did he truly want her dead? Did he want her back here where she would be tortured and punished for her treachery?
He’d believed so, he wanted it to be so, but now that his troops had stumbled across her, now that they were hot on her heels, Braith didn't know what he would do if she were recaptured. She would be tortured, beaten, and eventually killed.
If he wanted her back, then he would have gone after her himself and brought her back here by now. But even though he hated her, even though she’d sliced him deeply, and he would like for her to suffer as badly as he’d suffered since discovering her gone, Braith had to admit he didn't want her dead.
In all the time since she'd been gone, it was the first time he realized this fact.
He coveted her blood; he yearned to taste and see her again, and he was going to be the one who made her pay for her deceitfulness, not his brother or his father. His jaw clenched as he grasped the lapels of his jacket.
The hated jacket.
The tailor issued a faint sound of protest when Braith stepped down from the dais he’d stood on. He ignored the annoying gnat of a man.
"How do you know she was there?" he growled.
"One of our people spotted her; it was why they went in when they did. They were hoping to capture her," Caleb said.
"Went in?"
"The humans were in a group of caves, apparently well-engineered caves with a series of tunnels and gates throughout them. The caves were discovered last week, but they were going to wait until they knew where all the exits were before raiding them. Our guards got a little overexcited when they spotted her and jumped the gun."
Caves, she was living in caves. She had spoken about her woods, and her forest, with such reverence he assumed she'd return directly to them as soon as she was free.
Instead, she was living in caves, hidden beneath the earth, trapped beneath mounds of dirt and rock. It made no sense to him, but what made even less sense was the fact he remotely cared where she was living or what she was doing.
He had moved on with his life. He now owned several blood slaves, and though none of them were her, Braith found he enjoyed them. They almost made him forget for a little bit; they made it not so difficult to get through the days. Unlike Arianna, these slaves were far more pliant and far less defiant.
He was getting married in a matter of months. Granted, he couldn't stand the woman, but he needed only to have a male heir with her, and then he wouldn't have anything to do with her again.
He hadn't planned to marry the woman, no matter what his father arranged, but he was resigned to it now. For once, he hadn't intended to do his duty as the eldest son. Not until Arianna abandoned him to run away with his brother and another blood slave.
After that, all he longed for was to forget. There were even times during the day when he almost forgot, brief moments when he found a little reprieve from his memories in the copious amounts of blood. Those moments never lasted though, and a part of him hated himself for what he was doing, but with enough blood, and enough time, he hoped to forget her eventually.
Arianna would die; she was human, and she lived a precarious life. It was only a matter of time before it happened. He would know when that time came, and he assumed he would feel relief when it did.
He wasn't so sure now.
"Was there any sign of Jericho?" Braith asked.
Resentment boiled through him at the mention of his youngest brother; the sibling he’d trusted and liked the most, and the one who had betrayed him the deepest. The one who had taken Arianna from him.
Though, he doubted she’d put up any fight. In fact, he was fairly certain that, despite her vows of love and promises to never leave him, she had run eagerly through the tunnel once it was revealed to her.
She was a fickle bitch after all, or at least that's what he’d come to believe. Why else would she vow to love him forever then leave him the very next morning?
And Jericho had become enemy number one now. Braith may not personally destroy Arianna, but he thought he would have a try at Jericho.
"They didn't see Jericho there, but I'm sure he was nearby,” Caleb said. “After all, he betrayed us for her; she must mean something to him."
Jericho had said he was here to rescue Arianna because her father was the leader of the rebels. Jericho came here for her because he was one of the few who could get her free.
That's what he'd claimed, but Braith had a tough time believing anything that came out of his brother's mouth during those days. His brother had also said he wouldn't do anything without consulting Braith first, and then he disappeared the next day.
In fact, he thought Caleb was right, and Jericho did feel more for Arianna than friendship and loyalty. Why else would he have taken her as he had?
Braith had never revealed to Caleb, or his father, Arianna's real history. There was no point in doing so, she was gone now, and there was no way to use her against her family anymore.
"There was a different man with her," Caleb said.
Braith's mouth curved into a sneer. "Was there?" he asked sardonically.
How many men did the little bitch have? He speculated angrily. First, there had been the blood slave, Max, then his brother, and now some other mystery man. His fingers twitched into a fist; he fought the surge of bloodlust tearing through him. He was desperate to bury his fangs in something to try and forget the anger raging through him.
"Yes,” Caleb said. “They have no idea who it was, but it wasn't Jericho, and it wasn't the other blood slave."
A muscle in his cheek twitched in aggravation; he felt his temper starting to unravel. He’d thought Arianna a sweet innocent who brought light back into his life. He was beginning to learn nothing could be farther from the truth.
"I see," he said.
But he didn't see, and he wondered why he didn't go after her and drag her back here kicking and screaming. Why he didn't go after her, destroy her family, smash her rebel cause, hunt down his treasonous brother, and make them all pay.
Pacing away, he tore off the jacket, suddenly feeling claustrophobic within the material. The tailor made a strangled sound of despair as the material ripped, but Braith didn't care.
"Have they brought back any blood slaves?" Braith demanded.
"Yes, they are leading them onto the stage now."
Braith grabbed his cane and hefted it into his hands. Keegan, his ever-faithful wolf, yawned before rising to his feet. His claws clicked against the wood floor as he walked beside Braith.
"Let's go," Braith said to Caleb.
Caleb hesitated for only a moment before falling into step beside him. Braith was used to the darkness and navigating it; he didn't require any assistance as he mo
ved through the hallways of the palace.
The cane clicked off the floor, but it was Keegan who always alerted him to any new obstacle that may be in the way. With a subtle pressure against his leg, Keegan could steer him one way or the other.
Braith swiftly made his way down to the stage holding the future blood slaves. Though he was before the stage, his vision didn't come back to him as it had the day Arianna stood on the auction block.
He'd been unable to move at the sight of her. Unable to believe he could see anything again, let alone this frightened, dirty, bedraggled girl that was everything he disliked about a woman.
She was not round; she was not voluptuous, she smelled far from decent, and yet he had seen her.
She was the first thing he’d witnessed in over a hundred years. And slowly, over the time he spent with her, she became infinitely beautiful to him. Yes, she was defiant, harsh, far too skinny for his taste, and not beautiful in the classical sense, but she was also strong, sweet, innocent, and unbelievably breathtaking.
He had come to care greatly for her until he realized it was all a lie. She was none of those things and was, instead, a cunning, manipulative shrew.
He stared in the direction of the stage once more, but still, nothing popped out at him. No other women appeared to him; no one else gave him vision again. "Is there anyone up there who could be her family?"
Caleb was silent for a few moments before replying. "Not that I can see. I'm going to grab a few of them; I'm sure they'll eventually tell us more. And if they don't," Braith heard Caleb's shrug of indifference. "I will enjoy trying to make them talk."
Braith listened as blood slaves were brought forth and auctioned off. Caleb claimed four of them. Braith briefly contemplated taking a few more of his own but decided against it. He had enough, for now.
He turned away; if there were anything to learn, Caleb would do it. He made his way back toward the palace, wondering where Jericho had been during the raid, wondering who it was she’d been with.
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