Jace locked eyes with him.
“Yes, I’ve heard the rumors and claims. Rumors that He is the Son of Elôm and is coming to destroy me.”
With a sudden upwelling of conviction he didn’t know he had, Jace said, “He is who they say, and if He does mean to destroy you, you can’t stop Him.”
Daican looked at him, as if contemplating whether or not he was insane. He then laughed a harsh, yet not altogether convincing laugh.
“Falcor tells me He’s just a man with a few showy tricks. You only prove that a doomed people will believe anything.”
Jace stared at him, measuring his words. If he weren’t mistaken, he would say that underneath all his arrogance, the emperor was rattled by the news of Elon. Rattled and threatened.
A dark look overcame Daican’s expression. “Well, you will die here by the incense of Aertus, and we’ll see how powerful your so-called Savior is.”
Aric strode down the hall toward the emperor’s office and spotted Falcor ahead of him. It wasn’t unusual to see the crete these days, but he tensed. He had just come from supper with a group of captains to learn of Falcor’s arrival from Samara with a prisoner. Aric’s stomach turned. The last time something like this happened, he had lost one of his closest friends.
Aric passed Falcor, trading a cool look. He had never pretended to like the crete. It was because of this traitor that William was dead. He forced away this thought and the deep pang in his chest when he arrived at the office. After knocking, he entered to find the emperor alone at his desk.
“I hear Falcor brought a prisoner.” He was careful to control his voice, though his heart pounded. Who would it be this time?
Daican nodded, but he seemed unusually distracted. “Yes, one of the Landale group.”
Odd that he wouldn’t be more pleased.
Speaking with concealed dread, Aric asked, “Who?”
“The half-ryrik they call Jace.”
His stomach sinking, Aric projected a look of satisfaction. “One of the inner circle then. That’s good.”
“It would be better if he provided any useful information.” Daican forced out an irritable sigh, uncharacteristically bothered. He sat up straighter and focused fully on Aric. “But he is close to the Altair girl. Loves her, even. If she feels half the same, she’ll be devastated by his capture.”
Aric fought back a grimace. He had heard enough about Kyrin’s friendship with Jace to know that it would kill her. “What do you plan to do with him?”
“Richard put incense down near his cell to see if he would react the same as a full-blood ryrik, and it appears he does.”
“So you intend to let him suffocate?”
“Why not? It’s slower than execution, and there’s no advantage to killing him publicly. He won’t break under torture.”
“What about using him as leverage?” It didn’t matter who the emperor had; Aric couldn’t see anyone from Landale giving up anything that would endanger the camp, but at least it would buy Jace more time. Perhaps even enough to form a rescue plan.
Daican merely shook his head. “They won’t let the Altair girl give herself up, and aside from her and a couple of others, no one cares enough about him to give me anything worthwhile. Unfortunately, he’s the least useful of the group. The only thing he’s good for at this point is what his death will do to the Altair girl. And if she suffers, her family will suffer with her. Besides, he deserves what he’s getting.”
Aric didn’t believe the majority of the group had such a low opinion of Jace, but he kept this to himself. Any argument might lead to suspicion. The emperor seemed overly paranoid lately.
“Of course, Your Majesty. Is there anything you need?”
“How was the meeting?”
Aric shrugged. “Nothing of any great interest.”
Daican nodded, and Aric took his leave. He didn’t need to know anything more about the emperor’s plans for Jace. Moving with deliberate casualness that had become the norm for him, he left the office and made his way across the palace. He checked to make sure no one else was around and let himself down into the dungeon, grabbing a small torch on the way. Only a few feet down the hall, the overpowering stench of incense assaulted him. Even he could hardly breathe in it.
The cells appeared in the thick haze, and he arrived at the only one holding a prisoner. Jace huddled at the back, but his eyes locked on Aric, fierce in their defiance, yet watery and bloodshot from the smoke. He probably expected more questioning.
“Jace, I’m Aric.”
The defiance melted to reveal a bone-deep weariness. Moving as one four times his age, Jace rose to his feet with a gasp and barely suppressed a groan. With shaky steps, he approached the door and grasped at the bars with one bound hand to steady himself. Aric’s stomach twisted at his sorry condition—the blood staining his sleeve and the side of his shirt, the ugly bruises and raw flesh around his throat and wrists, but most of all, the hollow look in his eyes. Aric had seen much cruelty in his years at Auréa Palace, but he had never witnessed such a crushed spirit.
Aric swallowed hard and said the only thing he could think of. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
His eyes glinting with pain, Jace’s voice came in a hoarse whisper. “Water, please.”
He curled over and coughed, a soft cry of pain escaping with it. His balance wavered, and Aric reached in to help steady him. When Jace straightened, blood stained his lips. Aric’s chest squeezed. Bringing water would be risky, but how could he deny such a desperate request?
“I’ll get you water,” he said.
He turned away from the cell, fighting the emotions that churned inside him. Thank Elôm he met no guards along the way and was able to return to Jace with a waterskin. The young man sat near the door when he reached him. Aric knelt down and helped him bring the waterskin to his lips. He drank eagerly, but choked and coughed after every few sips. By the time he’d downed most of it, he looked spent.
Aric released a heavy sigh and bent his head. “If there was time, I’d try to get you out of here.” Even if he had a way now, Jace hardly looked fit for escape. “I’m sorry.”
Slowly, Jace shook his head. Total acceptance settled in his eyes. No sign of hope. If only Aric could do more. His gaze fell on the tight ropes around Jace’s wrists, but even something as simple as freeing them was impossible. It would only alert the emperor that someone with rebel sympathies still inhabited the palace.
Aric glanced up the hall. He could not linger. No doubt Richard would soon come to check Jace.
“I must go.” But he loathed the thought of walking away and leaving him to die alone.
Jace nodded weakly.
Aric rose and looked down at him. “You have my prayers, Jace.” Prayers for peace, comfort, and less pain as he neared the end.
Jace’s eyes locked with his. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Taking a deep breath, Aric left the cell, but a heavy weight rested on him. He couldn’t stop this any more than he could stop William’s execution, and just like that time, it would haunt him.
The water Aric had brought was now a distant memory. Jace’s throat felt as though he had swallowed broken glass. He tried with all his might to fight it, but he had to cough. The pain of his shoulder and lungs consumed him. Blood filled his mouth, trickling past his lips. He spit out the rest and struggled to draw a breath, but his lungs only filled to half their capacity. He swayed, his head buzzing.
It was just as Richard intended. He would either suffocate or die of blood loss. Whatever hadn’t been lost from his shoulder was filling up his lungs. His heart punched his ribs as a wave of panic took hold, but he had no way to fight this.
He blinked hard. Was his vision growing dim or was the incense only thickening? He gave up trying to block it with his shirt. It only prolonged the inevitable. His breaths grew shallower. Numbness crept in, almost welcoming as it threaded through his limbs, erasing the pain. He let his head droop and his eyes slide closed.
Tremors passed through him until he shook uncontrollably. He gasped for breath, desperate for the air to keep him alive, but he wrenched over, coughing again. Blood spilled from his mouth, creating a pool at his knees. He couldn’t breathe.
“No!” the hoarse cry broke out. He wanted to live. For the first time in his life, he was desperate to hold on to life.
Darkness swirled around him. He tried to rise and escape it, but was held down. The dreams had become real. He cried out again. The darkness pulled him down, and he had no strength to stop it. He was helpless. He had nothing left. Death wanted him, and he couldn’t fight it. Tears filled his eyes, and he barely had enough breath to force whispered words past his lips.
“Elôm, help me.”
The wavering darkness grew deeper, but then a faint light appeared. Jace focused on it, though it wavered in his vision. Was his mind playing one last cruel trick on him before the end came? Would the light taunt him and then disappear, just like in his nightmares, and leave him to slip into death with despair?
Jace squinted and blinked hard. Surely the light would leave him. It always did.
However, it grew, drawing nearer to his cell. The echo of footsteps accompanied it, and dark shapes appeared in the murk.
The first person visible was Richard. Jace’s weak heart sank to the floor, any tiny spark of hope crushed. He tried to find the strength to hide his weakness, but he had none left. Whatever the man planned for him now, he didn’t think he could endure it. For the first time since he was a child, he cowered.
As Richard unlocked the door, Jace’s gaze drifted to a second man. His heart stilled. Time ceased. He didn’t think he could believe what he saw, on the edge of death, yet the eyes that bored into his were like a fire, burning, yet soothing to his heart. Elon had come for him.
Guards took Jace by the arms and pulled him up. He choked in agony and stumbled out of the cell where they left him standing before Elon. Again, their eyes locked, and the familiar and crushing unworthiness consumed the awe from moments ago.
“Lord,” he gasped. He tried to lower himself to his knees, but they buckled and he fell hard, his head bowed.
Richard stepped to his side with a growl. “Get up.”
He drew his foot back. Jace tensed.
“No.” The authority in Elon’s voice was like a physical force, driving Richard and his guards back a step. “You’ve harmed him enough.”
Jace’s heart beat sluggishly in the following moment of silence. Why would Elon come here for him? He was nothing—worse than nothing. A murderer. A sinner.
“Jace.”
He took a trembling breath. That voice—tender, loving—it was the voice from his dreams. Elon’s voice. He recognized it now, but he couldn’t raise his head; he was too ashamed.
Elon knelt in front of him. Jace still didn’t lift his eyes.
“Why do you try to hide from Me?”
The question cut deeply into his heart, and tears clogged his throat, filling his eyes. “I’ve done so much. Failed… so many times.” He couldn’t breathe, the pain was so great.
“I’ve been calling you. Calling you away from the hold of your past.”
“I tried to reach You.”
“Jace.” Elon said his name with such care that he finally looked up. “You didn’t have to reach Me. I was always there. You only had to answer Me.”
Jace trembled as these words sank deep into his heart.
“You are loved, Jace.”
With this declaration, something changed inside him. His heart broke with how long and desperately he had yearned for such knowledge, but at the same time, it was healed. And in that moment, the tears he had held inside for so many years let loose, flowing warmly down his cheeks, and he cried—cried as all the pain in his heart slowly drained away.
Elon reached for his hands, untying the rope, but it was more than his hands that He freed.
“You have always been loved, by both Me and My Father. From the moment you believed, your soul was safe. You don’t have to carry the fears and shame inside you anymore, and you don’t have to try to carry them to Me. Just let them go, and I’ll take them for you. You were never meant to carry the weight yourself or do this on your own. You don’t have to fight alone. Do you understand?”
His tears still falling, Jace nodded. At last, he did.
Elon rose to His feet again and extended His hand. Jace looked at it with the realization that it had always been there for him through all the pain and darkness of the last couple of years. He had only failed to take it, but no more. He grasped it, and Elon drew him to his feet, holding him steady.
“You never have to doubt again.”
Elon placed His hand on Jace’s chest, and all the pain, including the numbness in his hand, vanished. Jace gasped in a great breath as his lungs freed, and he could breathe easily again. Strength surged into his body.
Richard’s voice cut in, reminding Jace it wasn’t only him and Elon.
“He’s released. Now it’s time for You to hold up Your end of the bargain.”
Jace glanced back at Richard, his heart giving an uneven beat, and then focused again on Elon. “What bargain?”
Elon did not answer, but turned and motioned. Only now did Jace notice Aelos and Riyel waiting behind Him.
“Go with them,” Elon said. “They will take you safely out of the city.”
A fresh wave of cold dread built inside Jace. “What about You?”
Elon faced him again, but a little of the light in His eyes was gone. Something accepting and troubling had replaced it, and Jace’s stomach twisted.
He put His hand on Jace’s shoulder and urged, “Go on.”
Jace hesitated, but walked with the two strong, stoic men down the hall. After a few yards, he looked back. Richard was locking a pair of shackles around Elon’s wrists, and Elon did not resist him. Jace halted. Surely, Elon had not given Himself up so that Jace could go free, had He?
“No.” Jace turned to go back. This wasn’t right. He wasn’t worth this, but Aelos held his arm.
“Come,” he said, and though it wasn’t forceful Jace did not feel he could resist.
At the far end of the dungeon, a group of guards let them into a small room with one chair and a table. Candles glowed, lighting up a pitcher and a large plate of food. The door closed, and Aelos and Riyel stood on either side of it. Jace turned to them.
“What is Elon planning to do?”
Surely, He had a plan. He had just healed Jace with a simple touch. Richard and Daican could never hold Him against His will.
“What He must,” Aelos answered, his voice low and deep. He had the same troubling look in his eyes, though his expression barely changed. It did not comfort Jace, or lend much certainty to his previous thoughts.
Before Jace could question any further, Riyel spoke.
“You should eat.” He gestured to the table. “You need strength for the rest of the day.”
With such unease cramping his stomach, Jace didn’t know if he could eat, but one look at the food—a hearty slab of meat, thick slice of bread, and large wedge of cheese—sent hunger pangs to his stomach. He took a seat at the table, but then just sat there for a long moment as it all sank in. Minutes ago, he had wavered on the very edge of death. Now he sat healed, with enough food before him to satisfy his hunger and, by all accounts, appeared to be rescued. Tears welled once again, and he bowed his head, closing his eyes.
“Thank You,” he whispered. It hardly seemed enough, but he had no other words to describe the gratitude overflowing his heart. He shook his head. I’m sorry I failed for so long to understand, and for losing my way when all I should have done was follow Your guidance. I’m sorry for letting fear control me. He let out a long breath as Rayad, Ky
rin, and Timothy’s faces reached into his thoughts. They had tried so hard to help him see. If only he had truly let himself hear them. Thank You for giving me a second chance to live the way You want me to. I will try my hardest not to waste whatever days You give me.
Raising his head, Jace wiped the dampness from his face and cleared his throat. Never had he been so certain that his prayers were heard. And, despite the unease of the situation, the peace that slowly filled him surpassed any he had experienced before.
Jace reached for a fork and ate hungrily, the first time in over a week he had filled his stomach. However, his mind remained caught up in Elon and what he had seen while leaving the cells. There must be a plan in place. Elon was far too important, too needed, to give Himself up for Jace. It made no sense. He was deity—the Son of Elôm—and Jace had lived a life to this point brimming with failures. He deserved to reap the consequences of it, and now that he had Elon’s assurance, he was willing and unafraid. Now he could face death without dread.
When his plate was empty, Jace sat and waited. How long would he be here, and what was going on outside this room? Would Elon come to get him? He glanced at Aelos and Riyel, but they stood as statues planted on either side of the door. Aelos’s vague answer to his question earlier didn’t give him hope that he could get any definitive information from them.
Settling back in his chair, Jace silently talked to Elôm. It felt awkward at first, but he kept on, praying longer and deeper than he ever had before. And the more he prayed, the more his heart seemed to open, letting in light and cleaning out dark corners where he had buried his fears and torments for so long. This time, instead of trying to deal with them himself he just let them go and left them in Elôm’s hands, as his mother had wanted him to. How he ached to let her know that, finally, he understood.
Footsteps echoed in the corridor outside, and Jace jerked his head up. The door opened a moment later, and a guard stepped in.
“Come,” he commanded.
Samara's Peril (Ilyon Chronicles Book 3) Page 29