Deathmarked (The Fatemarked Epic Book 4)

by David Estes

  “Your son was Jai Jiroux.” It wasn’t a question.

  She nodded anyway. “He saw me dancing one day. Phen sur. Like I used to when he was a little boy. Before…everything.”

  “He said he was looking for you.”

  She nodded again. “He paced the halls at night. Sometimes I watched him.”

  “Why didn’t you…” Falcon cut off. It wasn’t his place to ask, especially not now.

  She answered anyway. “Because I was scared it would make things worse for him. I understood what he was doing, the change he was trying to enact in Phanes. I always knew he was born to do something great. I couldn’t distract him. I needed to be the ghost he thought I was.” Unshed tears sparkled in her eyes. “I thought there would be more time, later. I wanted to reach out and touch him, but I was scared.”

  Falcon nodded. He understood fear. “I am not your judge. And I know he loved you to the end.”

  The tears slipped free, tracing her jawline.

  “You have visited his grave?” Falcon asked. Jai’s ashes had been sprinkled on the edge of Garadia Mine. Not inside, but just without. Shanti said he would’ve wanted that.

  She shook her head.

  “I will take you there, if you wish.”

  “I would like that,” she said.

  Eighty-Five

  The Southern Empire, Phanea

  Lisbeth Lorne

  After seeing the truth in the vision Roan offered her, Lisbeth wondered whether she’d made a grave mistake in destroying the Sleeping Knights.

  I could’ve regained control of them. They could’ve helped us in the battle to come. As an enemy, they were perilous, but as allies…

  “Stop,” Sir Dietrich said. She looked at his breathtaking blue-flamed form, surprised he had spoken. “I know what you are thinking, and you need to stop. You saved us. You saved us all.”

  She breathed deeply. He was right, not about her saving them, but about putting a stop to her thoughts of the Knights. They were going to kill everyone. She made the only choice she had. “I had help,” she said. “The halfmarked, Shae and Erric…and you.”

  “Me?” The knight chuckled. “All I did was hang on for dear life. I could feel the energy pouring through you. It almost shook me to pieces.”

  He hadn’t told her that. “Truly?”

  His soul nodded.

  “Why didn’t you let go?”

  “Because I promised you I wouldn’t.”

  Stars. This man. She remembered the words he’d spoken before the final battle, back when they both thought their lives were forfeit. Did he mean them? Did he really love her?

  “Touch me,” he said now.

  She knew he didn’t mean to hold his hand, or hug him, or anything else physical.

  He meant her soul.

  “Sir, I—”

  “To you, I am David.”

  “David, I—”

  “Touch me. I am unafraid. You shall not hurt me.”

  She bit her lip, and before she could consider what to do, his lips were on hers, hungry, greedy.

  His blue flames washed over her, and she felt her Eye stir. The urge to pull away arose, but she didn’t want to, had never really wanted to. It was the fear that held her back every time. The fear of herself, of what she was capable of.

  “Don’t stop,” his lips said, still tasting her, painting her with his soul, a fiery blue trail from her mouth to her jaw to the nape of her neck.

  She grasped her soul with her mind, unleashing it slowly, bit by bit. It hung a hairsbreadth from the blue flames, probing. And then touching.

  The reins slipped from her grasp and her soul poured over him, wild and unchained, tearing at everything it found, seeking the darkest and brightest spots in his memory, the images flailing about in chaotic spirals.

  He grunted, his lips slipping away from her skin as he arched his back. She could sense his pain, the emotions of reliving the highs and lows. She’d seen strong men brought to their knees by her soul. Once, the same had happened to him. She wanted to pull away, but he said, “Don’t stop. I am…fine,” and then his lips were back on hers, his soul strengthening, wrapping itself around hers like a warm blanket, no longer fighting the hidden truths it had denied for so long, but embracing them. The sensation was like…nothing she had ever experienced and her back arched, her toes curled under her feet, and she gave herself over to his soul, relishing every beat of his heart against hers.

  David, she said when their souls finally parted. She spoke it directly into his soul.

  “Lisbeth,” he said aloud. “That was…” He trailed off, and she knew there were no words to describe what they’d just experienced, that dance of their souls. It was like they were wrapped in moonslight and painted with starlight. Like the rest of the world had ceased to exist and it was…

  “Just us,” he said, finishing her thought, though she hadn’t spoken it into his soul.

  “Yes,” she said. “Just us.”

  Eighty-Six

  The Southern Empire, Phanea

  Gareth Ironclad

  “Are you going to kiss him when he wakes up?” Gareth asked as they watched Roan sleep, his chest rising and falling under the lanternlight.

  Gwen looked at him, an amused grin on her lips. “Are you?”

  “Why not?” he said. “We all almost died. Seems a shame to waste such nice lips.”

  “Speak for yourself. I was nowhere close to death. Anyway, I’m fairly certain Roan hates me.”

  Gwen had only spoken to him vaguely about what had transpired in Calyp, though he knew she’d run into Roan somewhere along the way. “Roan doesn’t hate anyone. That’s why they call him the Peacemaker.”

  “Fine. He strongly dislikes me.”

  “Sounds about right,” Gareth joked, earning himself a dagger-filled glare. “Great Forest of Orion,” he said. “You’ve lost your sense of humor! Oh right, you never had one to begin with.”

  He had hoped for another smile, but she only looked away. “Gwen, I’m sorry, I was only—”

  “I know,” she said, placing a hand on his arm. “I just feel a fool for some of the things I said to him. I worry he’ll never wake up.”

  “He will. I promise. Otherwise the Four Kingdoms will be overrun by cannibalistic barbarians, and we can’t have that, can we?”

  Finally, a smile, though a thin one. “You did well, king,” she said.

  It almost felt like the sun was shining on Gareth’s face, though it had set hours earlier. A compliment from the heromarked Orian was as rare as spotting an oremonkey in Ironwood. “Is that a jape?”

  She laughed. “Should it be?”

  “I guess not. I didn’t die, so that’s good, right?”

  She shook her head. “I might have to retract my compliment.”

  “Retract away!” He stood. “I’m going to go visit someone else. Someone more…awake.”

  Gwen narrowed her eyes. “Who?”

  “A certain vicious queen who is big with child.”

  “You want to visit that conniving bitch?” Once, there would’ve been venom in such a statement from Gwen, but Gareth could hear none now. She doesn’t know what to make of Rhea Loren any more than I do, he thought smugly.

  “Yes. I want to visit her. I need to clear the air.”

  “True, it is thick with the fog of treachery and imprisonment. Bring a large fan.”

  “Want to come?”

  Gwen looked at him like he was mad, which meant she looked at him the way she always did. “I think I’ll stay with Roan a little longer.”

  “Creepy,” Gareth thought. “I’ll be certain to inform him of how you watched him as he slept as soon as he awakens.”

  Gwen opened her mouth to respond, but he was already gone, slipping through the door and closing it softly behind him. It felt good to get in the last word, something he wasn’t accustomed to with the quick-tongued Orian.

  The palace halls were mostly deserted, though he spotted Falcon Hoza talking to a wom
an he didn’t recognize down one corridor. He turned the opposite way, trying not to think about how odd it was to have leaders from every kingdom housed under one roof. It would be even stranger when the council was finally held.

  Father would never believe it, he thought. Hell, I can scarcely believe it.

  And yet it felt good, even if the reason was an enemy trying to exterminate them like so many cockroaches.

  He approached an open door on the left, one he’d been avoiding for the last couple days as he tried to gather his thoughts. Gareth stopped when he heard voices.

  “Nothing has changed,” a stern voice said. Gareth recognized it immediately. Sai Loren, he thought. Self-proclaimed king regent to the western throne.

  “Sai,” another voice said, female this time. Gaia.

  “Cousin, I do not need you to defend me. Nor Roan.” This was clearly Rhea, though her voice was more breathy than usual. Late-stage pregnancy continued to take its toll on her. Why are they talking about Roan? Gareth wondered.

  He heard a huffing sound and then footfalls. It was far too late for Gareth to retreat, so he just stood there as Gaia exited the room, muttering under her breath. She gave him a look as she passed, but didn’t stop.

  Sai said, “Leo will be king, when he is of age.”

  “Roan is the heir,” Rhea retorted.

  Sai’s voice darkened. “Roan is a stranger to the west, to our customs. He is hardly fit to be king. I know what you’re doing.”

  “And what’s that, cousin?”

  “Scheming. If you sit Roan on the throne, you will find a way to reclaim it.”

  “Think what you want, but Western Law supports his claim.”

  “What claim? He has made none that I am aware of.”

  “He will.”

  Gareth found it important for him to walk through the door at that moment, before things got more heated. Rhea was pregnant, after all. She needed to be resting. What are you—her nursemaid? he thought.

  He cleared his throat and Sai turned. His face was livid, his nose wrinkled in disgust. “May I speak to Rhea?” Gareth asked.

  Behind Sai, Rhea’s eyebrows arched.

  Sai muttered, “I was just leaving,” and stalked past, nudging Gareth’s shoulder with his own.

  “Nice fellow,” Gareth said.

  One of Rhea’s eyebrows fell. The other did not.

  “Surprised to see me?” Gareth asked. “You shouldn’t be. We’re allies, remember?”

  She sighed and rested her hands on her belly, which was covered by thick blankets as she lay in bed. A half-dozen wall sconces lit the room with warm light and the hearth was smoldering. To Gareth, the room felt too hot by half. “Have you come only to make jokes?”

  “Yes,” Gareth said with a grin. “You look like you could use some cheering up.”

  “I want this baby out of me, is what I want. She kicks mercilessly and steals my sleep.”

  It was strange—seeing Rhea like this. So…human. So…normal. Was this just another side to her, or was it all an act?

  “Is Sai right about your motives?” he asked, cutting right to the quick.

  Shadows fell over her eyes. “I know what you must think of me, and I deserve every ounce of it. I did horrible things to you. I’ve done many horrible things.”

  Gareth felt like she was trying to judge herself, more than convince him. He decided to take a chance. “You were broken. Scared. Alone.”

  He was prepared for a Rhea-like outburst, or at least a sneer and a stare of defiance. He was not prepared for her eyes to fall to her lap. “True on all three accounts. But none of it justifies my actions.”

  “Even the good ones?”

  “What good ones?”

  “I am not blind, Rhea, even if your cousins are. Beneath all the treachery and deceit, you are good, or at least you have the potential to be.”

  Her eyes lifted, her expression changing to something he couldn’t quite read. “Thank you. I do not deserve such faith. All I ask is that you convince Roan to be king. Leo is too young and Sai too arrogant and self-righteous.”

  “I will try,” Gareth promised. “Now get some rest.”

  Eighty-Seven

  The Southern Empire, Phanea

  Gwendolyn Storm

  Gwen didn’t want to be there when Roan woke up, didn’t want to see the same look he’d given her in Citadel, like she was some stranger, so she left.

  She almost bumped into Raven as she strode down the hall, staring at her feet.

  “I was looking for you,” Raven said. Her face was no longer bruised, her shattered arm fully healed thanks to Roan’s power. It was as if Gwen had never harmed her.

  If only our sins could be erased so easily, Gwen thought. “Why? Is it about Siri?” She was somewhat surprised her first concern was for the dragon, but then again, she’d felt a strange kinship for the beast since the moment she spoke in her head.

  Raven shook her head. “I want you to come with me to Calyp. After the council. Don’t answer now, just think about it.”

  The idea left Gwen’s head spinning. Now that she’d been reunited with Gareth and the easterners, with Roan, it made sense for her to stay with them, right? They were her people, and she’d been apart from them for too long.

  But the thought of Roan’s dark stare continued to haunt her. “I will think about it. Why?”

  Raven considered the question. Gwen had come to appreciate the way the Calypsian’s mind worked. She was more than just a capable warrior. She was smart. Look at me, complimenting a Calypsian, and a Sandes dragonmaster at that. How things change… “We need to show my people that alliances can be made and kept, even with our former enemies. They won’t have the benefit of firsthand knowledge of the attack by the Horde. The presence of an Orian will help…grease the wheels, if you will.”

  Gwen nodded. It made sense, even if it felt like an excuse for her to avoid facing Roan. “After the council, I will decide.”

  “Thank you. And thank you for…” Raven shook her head, a small smile creasing her lips. “For everything. I consider you a friend, I hope you know that.”

  She departed so quickly it made Gwen’s head spin even faster. As she watched her go, she suddenly felt very much alone.

  Unexpectedly, her heromark pulsed. It seemed to say, You are never alone.

  Eighty-Eight

  The Southern Empire, Phanea

  Raven Sandes

  Siri slept like a baby, her enormous scaled chest rising and falling beneath Raven’s cheek. I thought I lost you, Raven thought. She’d heard the stories, how people with a strong connection had gone mad after their dragon had died. Would I have gone mad? she wondered. Conversely, it was said the opposite was true, which was why aging dragons that outlived their masters would grow additional heads and lose their minds.

  She is safe, she thought, driving away her dark thoughts.

  Raven wished the council would convene soon. She longed to be back on Calypsian soil, to see Whisper again—they’d been through so much together. She just wanted to share a laugh, a hug, reminisce for two minutes before they were forced into battle against a foe more dangerous than the lions and other beasts they’d faced in the pits together.

  She wanted to speak to Goggin, too. He’d wanted to come with her to Phanes, but she’d asked him to stay with Whisper, not only to ensure she didn’t murder their Aunt Viper, but also to help her manage things while Raven and Gwen learned of the situation in the southwest. What he went through for me… She knew only the briefest of summaries of Goggin’s adventures, and she lived through the conclusion, but she felt like there was more to it. Though Goggin had long been a loyal servant of the Sandes, something about what he’d done felt more…personal this time.

  Also, she wanted to speak to her aunt. She wanted answers. She deserved them.

  And I will get them, she thought.

  Siri’s chest rose and fell, her warm breath filling the large area of the canyons she’d been afforded. All above the
m, the stars painted the sky in blues, golds, and greens.

  Eighty-Nine

  The Southern Empire, Phanea

  Bane Gäric

  Once again, he was the monster and Roan the savior. Men and women had died because of him. On the opposite side of the coin, men and women had been saved because of Roan.

  Those are our roles, he thought now, watching from the shadows as Roan slept.

  He felt bone-weary too, and wished he could prop his eyelids open with sticks to stay awake. He feared he would never wake up if he drifted away.

  He knew he’d made a grave mistake allying with the Phanecians. He knew his life was forfeit. But he didn’t want to die until he spoke to Roan one last time, to tell him he was sorry. Not for those he’d killed, but for failing to bring peace to these war-shattered lands. That was his biggest regret.

  To his surprise, Roan’s eyes flickered open as he watched him. His head turned directly toward him and said, “Bane.” There was no anger in his tone, but there was sadness.

  “Roan. I’ve come to say—”

  “Step closer,” Roan said. “Into the light.”

  The lanterns had burned low, but Bane obeyed, padding forward into the orange arc of light.

  But that wasn’t what Roan had meant, because bright white light burst from his chest and surrounded him, an aura so blinding he was forced to cover his eyes with his hands.

  No, he thought frantically. What is he doing? Why is he doing this? I’ve destroyed so many, snuffing out lives, and not all who deserved it. Jai Jiroux didn’t deserve it. My fate is my own. My failures, my own.

  And then the light was gone, vanishing in the blink of an eye, leaving him seeing golden spots, flashing like stars. He felt the truth in the strength of his bones, his muscles, his heart.

  The plague was gone.

  “Why?” Bane asked. “I didn’t come here to hold you to our agreement.”

  “I know,” Roan said. “I did it because we need you. Your time is not yet come. I don’t know everything, but I know that. And because your last act should be your best one, not your worst.”