Rhavos (Warriors of the Karuvar Book 3)

by Alana Serra

  “Why would I not be able to feel my mate?” he’d demanded of the Karuvar scientist who’d tried to help her before.

  Kor’ven looked up from his work, obviously in the midst of something important. Rhavos could not find it in himself to care. He needed to know. “There are a number of reasons. It is possible to feel a lesser bond the further away—”

  “This is not a lesser bond,” Rhavos growled. “She is gone completely.”

  “She could be unconscious. You would know it, if she were dead,” he said plainly. “You would feel it in your soul. I do not have a way to substantiate it, but my guess is that… her implant has been overridden again.”

  Rhavos’ jaw clenched, rage burning through him. He’d stormed out of that office, prepared to lay siege to the Freedom Fighters’ vault. Had they abducted her? Had they taken her back to their den?

  …Had she gone back willingly?

  No. As soon as he thought it, he knew it was untrue.

  They had taken her. They had harmed his mate, taken her against her will, and he was going to slaughter every last one of them for it.

  Rhavos turned immediately to organizing his men, recruiting those most loyal to him. They would understand and they would trust his judgment no matter what. He had nearly finished assembling a strike team when he felt it: A glimmer of light in his soul, a brief tug against the overwhelming blackness that had settled over him.

  It was his mate. It had to be. But when he reached for her across their bond, he only felt fear, deep and immobilizing. Fear and helplessness and despair. She’d broken free of their control, but she was not safe.

  Just as Rhavos went to inform Drol’gan of the abrupt change in plans, the alarms in Waystation Helios blared. He had no idea what the alarm meant and neither, it seemed, did his men. But when he reached out for his mate again, he could feel her much closer than he expected.

  She was not with the Freedom Fighters. She was aboard the Zavellan, miles above him.

  But why was she so afraid…?

  Rhavos did not dwell on the question. He simply acted, arming himself and his two best men and finding a pod that would take them to the Zavellan without having to wait for the lift.

  They weren’t the only ones.

  Several other pods waited at the docking bay, and the lift was crowded with Karuvar bodies. Rhavos had to push his way through, relying on his seniority to gain control of the situation.

  “What has happened?” he demanded.

  A room full of stares settled on him. Some of them confused, some of them questioning, but none of them answering his question.

  “What has happened!” he roared.

  “Conqueror Rhavos. Come to the Pathfinder’s chambers.”

  The voice was so unfamiliar to him that at first he could not place it. It sounded almost like Drann, but it was too deep, too severe, too… devoid of any emotion.

  “Let me through, you assholes!”

  Rhavos didn’t immediately know that voice, either, but he saw a small female pushing her way through the crowd. Drol’gan had noted this human was important to Drann, and as she did not stop in her pursuit, going straight for the Pathfinder’s quarters, he thought perhaps he hadn’t been mistaken.

  A cold chill of dread fell over Rhavos as he walked the rest of the way, past guard after guard, including some of the Pathfinder’s personal retinue, Verkiir among them. His dark look of challenge made Rhavos bristle.

  “You are allowed on this ship only because he allows it,” Verkiir said. “The second he wants you gone, I will dispose of you myself.”

  “I would very much like to see that,” Rhavos grated out.

  What could possibly be happening? What could have set everyone on edge in this way?

  As soon as he rounded the corner, he understood.

  Drol’gan lay on the floor, motionless, his blood pooled beneath him. His golden skin was pale, marred by spots of red where veins had burst. Even without kneeling to check for signs of movement, it was obvious that he was dead.

  Rhavos let out a breath, feeling as if he’d been struck in the stomach by the butt of a blade. His Pathfinder was dead. The one being in the universe he’d sworn to protect was growing cold on the floor of his own chambers.

  He whirled to face the other occupants in the room, to demand answers, but the first person he saw was Rhin. Her eyes met his, wide and filled with sorrow. He wanted to go to her, to comfort her, but… why was she here?

  “I stood up for you,” that same voice said, and this time Rhavos could see it was Drann’s. “I told my father you wouldn’t betray us. And this is what you do?”

  “I didn’t,” Rhin started, her voice shaking. “You have to believe me, I didn’t do this.”

  “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t kill you right now,” he said.

  “Drann, don’t—” the human began.

  Both sounded distant to his ears. Rhavos was lost in a fog of rage and panic, instinct superseding his good sense. As soon as Drann took a step forward, Rhavos launched himself at the male.

  He was met by solid muscle as First Guardian Verkiir shoved him roughly against the wall, his horns locking with Rhavos’. They wrestled for dominance, but in the end, Rhin’s pleading eyes—and the feeling of her fear, so sharp and desperate—made him cease.

  “Take her to the brig,” Drann ordered.

  “If you touch her, you will have to imprison me, as well,” Rhavos warned, his voice low.

  The guards looked to Drann and he nodded—all the confirmation they needed to seize Rhin. She did not fight.

  Rhavos thrashed against Verkiir, his growl savage, but the other male braced his arm across Rhavos’ throat, forcing him to calm lest he find himself without any air.

  “Someone show him the footage,” Drann said, his voice breaking. “I have to make arrangements for my father.”

  “I mourn this loss as much as any Karuvar,” Rhavos said, “but you are looking in the wrong place. My mate did not do this.”

  “You will follow the Pathfinder’s orders, Conqueror,” Verkiir said, fixing him with a rigid stare.

  Rhavos growled low in his throat, but he did not fight when Verkiir directed him to the door. He would prove them wrong, he would get his mate back, and then he would seek justice for Drol’gan.

  The very world felt like it was caving in around him.

  Rhavos had watched the footage three times, and each time was more unfathomable than the last. His mate walked into the Pathfinder’s quarters and spoke to him much as she had earlier in the day. Her words were confident, there was not the slightest waver in her voice.

  She stood there, acting contrite. And then she watched as a Nikhiza assassin gutted him. She watched and she did absolutely nothing.

  No. Not nothing.

  She’d fought; she’d launched herself at the Nikhiza. After the fact, when Drol’gan was already dead. She’d changed nothing by doing so, and the Nikhiza hadn’t even been concerned with her.

  Rhavos sat in absolute silence, unable to process the information he was being given. He wanted to deny it. He wanted so badly to tell them there must have been some mistake, some glitch in the recording. But his honor as a Karuvar and as a Conqueror demanded he treat this matter with the utmost respect, and he was forced to consider all options.

  It was possible there was some glitch. Perhaps the Freedom Fighters had hacked into the security cameras to plant conflicting footage, obscuring the real murder. The look on Rhin’s face when he’d seen her told him that was not likely.

  She could have been in collusion with the humans all along. She could have lured him into a sense of false security, led them all down this path that ended with the Pathfinder dead and the Karuvar in turmoil.

  He couldn’t think that of her. To think that would kill him, there was no question in his mind.

  So the only real option was that she had been controlled. The rogue humans found her and took over her mind—that was why he hadn’t been able to feel h
er earlier. They’d forced her to go to Drol’gan, to set this up and take the fall for it.

  And she would. They would execute her.

  At worst, they would believe her a traitor in the truest sense. At best, they would think her unable to control her actions; a living tool of the Freedom Fighters.

  “I must see her,” Rhavos said.

  Verkiir had brought him to watch the footage, and he stood guard silently while Rhavos processed it. When he looked at the male, Verkiir was regarding him with something that resembled pity.

  “I will only allow it because she is your mate, and I… do not envy your position. I will grant you the chance to say goodbye, and hope my Pathfinder will forgive me.”

  Rhavos nodded, betraying no emotion. As Verkiir led him to the brig, he felt that strange darkness again. There was no sound. No feeling. Nothing but a numbing blackness that seeped into his very soul.

  He did not know what would happen when he saw Rhin. He only knew what Karuvar law and what his honor as a Conqueror demanded of him.

  One way or another, this would be the last time he saw his mate.

  17

  Ren didn't put up a fight when she was led to the brig.

  How could she? She'd seen the footage; seen herself standing there, speaking to Drol'gan like there was nothing even remotely wrong. Standing there while the Nikhiza murdered him.

  It chilled her to her very core. She'd watched all of it happen, trapped inside a body that was not her own. But to see herself on the footage, to hear her voice, to glimpse her supposed indifference… those were things she would never forget, not as long as she lived.

  And from the sound of it, that might not be long.

  She was shoved into a cell, the Karuvar who'd escorted her staying behind to guard her. No telling what she'd do. Even Ren didn't know. She'd ripped the ear piece out, but there was every chance they could still control her. As far as she knew, the traitor was still on board.

  The traitor.

  She needed to tell them about the Karuvar who'd helped murder their Pathfinder. If she could somehow get him to confess, they'd see that she was innocent—that she had nothing to do with Drol'gan's death.

  "I need to speak to Conqueror Rhavos," she pleaded.

  One of her captors banged his staff against the metal wall. The bars—made of a blinding energy that was hot just to stand by—flickered, but held their shape.

  "You do not speak, human," he said.

  "I can't believe he's letting her live," the other spat. "We should just toss her out the side and be done with it."

  A chill snaked up Ren's spine and she pressed back against the wall. Power was shifting within the Karuvar ranks, and in her experience, that was the most dangerous time of all.

  "Pathfinder's orders."

  "He's not my Pathfinder."

  She had one hope now. One chance to make it out of this alive.

  Rhavos.

  God, he'd looked ready to kill Drann just for threatening her, even when Drann had every right. It gave her some measure of hope, but it scared her, too. The last thing she wanted was to live if it meant Rhavos would be killed in her place.

  That's assuming he'd even side with you, a chiding voice inside of her said.

  He would. He knew she wasn't capable of this. He'd seen into her, into everything she was, everything she'd been.

  But… he didn't trust her, either. Not while her implant was still tapped. He would protect her; keep them from killing her, if it was something he could do.

  And he'd be her jailor, keeping her safe. Keeping others safe from her.

  For a brief moment, Ren wished Drann had just ended it all back in that room.

  No. You’re better than this. You've been through too much.

  Her heart sped and her arm began to tingle—sure signs that Rhavos was drawing near. In the distance, she heard heavy footfalls on the metal stairs. Another one of Drol'gan's guards came down first, but she knew he was followed by Rhavos.

  Seeing him made the tears come anew. He looked so tired, as if he'd aged a full decade in an hour. His scales were dull, his ears were held in a neutral expression, and his walk lacked any purpose whatsoever.

  "Why is that traitor here?" one of her guards snarled.

  "He is here to speak to his mate," Verkiir said.

  "On whose authority?" the other guard asked.

  "Mine," Verkiir replied before looking to Rhavos. "Ten minutes."

  Rhavos was quiet through this, the disrespect not even seeming to touch him. His gaze was fixed on her, and Ren felt like he could see into her soul.

  She almost hoped he could. At least then he'd know the truth.

  "Give us space," Rhavos finally said, his voice low, hoarse.

  "Absolutely not."

  "Back up and let them talk," Verkiir barked, his gaze narrowing at the two guards. Their jaws clenched hard, their fingers tightening around their weapons, but they finally stepped to the other side of the hall. "Do not make me regret this, Conqueror."

  Verkiir nodded to Rhavos, then glanced briefly to her before he moved to the stairs. It wasn't until he was gone that Ren even tried to talk.

  "I didn't do this, Rhavos," she said, loud enough so only he could hear. "I swear."

  "I know," he said, crouching before her cell.

  She started to reach for him, to test the slats between the beams of energy, but even that made her hand burn as if she'd held it over a steam vent.

  "They found me. Dallas and his men took me off the street in Everton. He waved this device over my arm, and then I… I couldn't do anything outside of what he said."

  She could feel his pain as acutely as if it were her own, but he said nothing.

  "One of Drol'gan's guards let me and the Nikhiza into the Zavellan. It was the one with the big scar on his face. He must have told Dallas and the others everything that happened."

  Rhavos' brows drew together, his hand clenched into a tight fist. "Tarak?" he asked, his voice a low growl.

  "They never said his name, or the Nikhiza's. I just know what they looked like." She let out a breath, growing more and more frustrated that she couldn't touch him, and he couldn't touch her. "I tried to stop it. I could see everything that was happening. I tried so hard, but I couldn't do anything. Not until it was too late."

  Rhavos had been right. She wasn't strong enough to break the thrall on her own. That realization shattered what was left of her, and her mate seemed to notice. He came as close as he could despite the heat of the bars.

  "You must listen to me. We don't have much time," he said, his words hushed.

  She looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. He had a plan. They were going to make it through this. Together.

  "They will want your life for this," he said.

  Ren let out a humorless laugh. "Yeah. I got that much."

  "I will not let them have it."

  She sucked in a breath, a spark of hope lighting in her heart. "You… You can convince them? They'll see reason if it comes from you?"

  Her heart sank when he didn't answer immediately.

  "I'll do whatever they want. I'll wear a tracker until we can sever the connection—"

  "They will not listen to me."

  Ren stared at him, watching the last of her hope crumble before her very eyes. "You're the Conqueror."

  "And your mate," he said softly.

  She sat back slowly, the reality of this situation coming into full focus. He would be linked to her by association. Whatever credibility he'd had under Drol'gan was gone now. The more he fought for her, the more likely it was that he would be killed right alongside her.

  Closing her eyes, Ren let out a shuddering breath and reined in her emotion. "So what happens now?"

  Rhavos stood, the picture of calm, and yet she could feel the conflict that raged within him. He walked toward the door, and her heart sank. He wasn't leaving her. He couldn't be.

  Before she could call out to him, she saw his fist move in a blur o
f gold. She heard the sound of a harsh gasp as the heel of his palm connected with a guard's throat.

  Rhavos moved to the other guard and grappled him, pushing his front against the wall, the Karuvar's neck in a choke hold. He kept holding on, even as the other guard tried—in vain—to signal for someone else.

  The guard in Rhavos' hold finally went limp, and he let the unconscious body slide to the floor before giving the other Karuvar the same treatment. When they were both out, he flipped open a panel on the wall… and smashed the interior with his fist.

  The bars of the cell flickered and then disappeared entirely.

  "What are you doing?! They're going to find these guards—they're going to know you helped me escape!"

  Even as she said it, she was stepping out of the cell, her legs shaky as adrenaline pumped through her veins.

  "There is a pod at the end of the hall," he said, glancing toward the stairs. "I will keep them occupied, but you must go. Now."

  Ren stared at him, her lips parted, unable to speak.

  "Come with me," she finally said, reaching for him.

  She could feel his hesitation as he considered it; could feel how much he wanted to. Before she could say anything more, he drew her into his arms and kissed her fiercely, taking her breath away before he broke from her.

  "I must uphold my oath."

  Ren felt like her heart was being ripped in two. "But you're my mate."

  He closed his eyes briefly, then said, "That is why I am doing this."

  An alarm sounded somewhere in the distance. She heard the pounding of hurried footsteps up above. Rhavos clutched her hands in his, his eyes imploring.

  "Please. You must go, or all this will have been for nothing."

  She couldn't think. She could hardly breathe. The look he was giving her was nothing short of a desperate plea, and as much as she wanted to stay, she could see the possible outcomes. If she was here, Rhavos would fight his own people. He would kill to keep her safe.

  If she left, there was a chance she could save him.

  Swallowing down her doubts and fears, Ren gave him one last, desperate look before she turned and ran toward the pod.