The statue’s little face didn’t give any sign of acceptance or refusal, but Rown seemed pleased. He lifted the sword and coated the entire surface with his milky offering. When he finished, he placed it at the feet of the statue to dry.
With his magical blade, everything was now up to Sterlave.
24
After her confrontation with Helton, Kasmiri strode with purpose to the advisors’ room. From there, she called for an exceptional assembly. Once the bulk of her advisors arrived, she would tell them the truth. She didn’t care if they placed her under the stone or immediately exiled her to Rhemna. Only the truth would set her free from the clutches of the creature. He said he didn’t want to reveal her secret because it served his purpose. If she told, he’d have no power over her.
What her life would become after that moment, she didn’t know, but she knew Sterlave would be there by her side. At least she hoped he would be. He swore her station didn’t matter, that he wanted her for her, that she was more than his bondmate, that she was his soulmate. In that, she had to trust. For once, when she needed someone, she believed with all her heart she could count on Sterlave.
She wanted to tell Sterlave of her decision first, but she couldn’t find him anywhere. All she could do was include him in her demand for an audience. After she’d sent her message, her two guards watched her pace. So engrossed in watching her, they never saw him coming.
The creature swooped in behind them, placing his hands upon each of their heads. Before Kasmiri could scream, he twisted. A wet, snapping sound echoed off the walls. Placing her hand over her mouth didn’t stop her from retching.
“You were going to tell,” the creature spoke in a singsong voice.
Terrified beyond words, she backed away, already knowing there was nowhere to go.
“You were going to ruin my plans.” Gangly, with his long limbs and awkward gait, he strode toward her, swinging the disembodied heads in his hideous hands. Her trusted guards’ faces were slack, their mouths open in mute screams.
Shocked, she still registered that he’d changed since their last encounter. He was taller, more hunched over, with spiked fingers shooting out from massive palms, and his horrible, horrible teeth. She wanted to scream, but she couldn’t gather sufficient breath.
“You are going to help me get exactly what I want.”
Her mind ran through his list of demands, but all of it was lost now. She gave him the Harvester suite but couldn’t name him as the Harvester, nor would she willingly remove Chur or put this monster in charge of the recruits. There was nothing else she could do for him.
When the door opened, the creature tossed the heads, then sped toward her. Without stopping, he grasped her waist, tossed her over his shoulder, and sped off. His shoulder was bony and dug painfully into her belly. Hot, slick skin was hard as tanned leather and smelled of rotting meat. Barbs emerged from conical bumps along his back. She didn’t even want to think about what lurked between his thighs.
He moved so swiftly down the hallways, and up and down the stairways that she had no idea where they were. Once the advisors gathered for the meeting, they would see the two dead guards and sound the alarm. Everyone in the entire palace would be searching for her. She hoped by the time they found her she was still alive.
Without missing a step, the monster kicked his way into a room. Kasmiri had never seen the Harvester suite, but she knew this wasn’t it. This room was barely big enough for the two of them. A low ceiling caused him to hunch over until she almost slid off his shoulder. Grunting, he tossed her back up. He took two deliberate steps and her world turned sideways.
Lights swirled around her eyes along with whistling winds screaming into her ears. She yelled, but the vortex ripped the sound away while flinging her hair into her mouth. Unable to lift her hand to pull it away, she tried to spit the strands out, but the wind crammed them back in. Tucking her head down into his back only gave her a full blast of his horrendous smell. No amount of wind could scrub the noxious odor away.
When the chaos stopped, she found herself in an enormous room carved out of what appeared to be one solid piece of rock. Their entrance echoed a popping noise off the shining floors and walls. The creature dumped her off his shoulder and she slumped gratefully to the floor.
“Where are we?” Smoothing her hand over the stone, she peered at the strangely colored polished rock laden with silver sparkles. She was unable to even describe the unworldly color. She shook her head, afraid the vortex had ruined her eyes. Tears blurred her vision for a moment; then she became aware of the heat. Sweat popped up all over her body, trickling between her breasts, her legs, and behind the cup of her knee.
Rather than answer, he laughed. His mirth sounded like screeching metal and screaming children. The massive empty room only echoed the sound back at her from all directions until she covered her ears and shrieked.
His gangly arms were so long he didn’t even have to bend over when he flicked out his index fingers and stabbed them into her shoulders. Her scream became a screech of searing pain. Gripping the rest of his claws around her upper arms, he then slowly lifted her off the floor.
Dangling in his grasp, she screamed louder until he shook her. His fingers slid in and out of her flesh, blinding her with pain, causing her breath to turn into gasping pants of shock and terror.
“You will remain silent until I tell you to speak. I did not bring you here to suffer your pathetic fright.” A slow smile spread his crimson lips against pointed teeth. “I brought you here because you will help me obtain my rightful due.”
Dizzy from pain and the sweltering heat, she blinked listlessly at him.
“Call for your consort.”
At first his words made no sense; then she realized he wasn’t after her, he was after Sterlave. “No.” Let him mutilate her. She wasn’t going to be responsible for bringing Sterlave into the mess she created. Maybe, just this once, rather than needing someone to be there for her, she would be there for herself.
The monster shook her until blood oozed around his plunged fingers, but still, she refused.
“I’d rather die than bring him to you.”
His distorted face became a mask of fury; then he forced a hideous smile. “As you please, empress.”
He said the words in mocking jest of Sterlave, but all he did was harden her heart. No matter how he tortured her, she would not cry out. All the hurt she’d suffered became an impenetrable wall around her as she closed her eyes, imagining herself in the center of her dance room, alone. Twirling in circles with her arms and head thrown back, she smiled up at the sky, oblivious to the pain in her body.
From her back, he pressed his nails into her until they broke through her gown, her skin, and deep into her flesh. Curling wisps of smoke rose up, choking her with the stench of her own burning flesh, but still she danced. The last thing she remembered before the blessed darkness came was the creature bellowing his rage as he tossed her aside.
25
Sterlave stood still while Rown attached the anointed sword to the belt around his waist. Sadly, it didn’t feel magical. When he’d first placed the Sword of the Empress onto his hip, he’d felt something. Perhaps not anything magical, but certainly something tingled along his nerves. Now, he didn’t feel anything at all.
What if all he had was a semen-stained blade that Loban would crush between the fingers of his freakish hands? Sterlave was placing a lot of faith in Enovese’s plan. Letting her sway him was easy because she spoke so passionately about her idea. Enovese claimed if Loban took Rown’s seed to grant the fallen one entrance, Sterlave should be able to banish him with a weapon blessed by Rown’s seed. Sterlave thought it sounded good in theory. Like two hands at opposite ends clapping together to crush Loban between. He just hoped it would work in actual practice. Somehow, Sterlave was certain that he would have only one shot at killing the creature Loban had become. Luckily for Enovese, if he failed, he wouldn’t be around to point the finger at anyone.
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When he laughed, Rown glanced up, and asked, “Are you prepared?”
“As much as I’ll ever be.” Sterlave straightened his belt and allowed Rown to slip on his boots. Nerves caused him to tremble slightly, which upset him because he hadn’t ever been this nervous, not even before challenging Chur for the right of Harvester. That night all he could think of was Kasmiri, and that he would die to possess her. When he failed that fight, the gods brought him back; however, he was certain they weren’t going to do that magic trick twice. If he died now, death would be permanent. Rather than dwell on what might happen, Sterlave focused his attention on what he wanted to happen. He refused to let doubt undermine his determination.
“I still think you should wear your consort clothing.” Rown frowned at his loose training pants with the stain on the front. Sterlave didn’t want a clean pair; he wanted a reminder of how sneaky Loban could be. To win, he would have to fight with his body and his brain. “You are defending the empire,” Rown said, smoothing the hopeless wrinkles in the fabric.
“I can’t move in that stuff.” And the last thing Sterlave wanted to do was show off his genitals to Loban. Parading around as Kasmiri’s sex toy had been fun, but the fun was over. As worried as he was about his own life, he worried more about Kasmiri. Another death would crush her. If he failed, he feared that she might never recover. Although, as soon as he thought that, he reminded himself that Kasmiri was strong. She would find a way to survive. Or so he hoped.
“At least wear a shirt.”
“No.” Clothing gave an opponent something to grab and use as an advantage. Sterlave would prefer to fight in the nude, since that’s how he’d challenged Chur, but he didn’t want to stomp around the palace naked, waving a sword and looking for a mythical creature. Sterlave enjoyed being on display, but he didn’t need that kind of attention right now.
Sighing, Rown stood. A barest tremble to his lip conveyed to Sterlave just how worried the young man was. In a gesture of friendship, Sterlave clasped his hand. Rown threw himself into Sterlave’s arms.
“You’re not boosting my confidence with this show,” Sterlave teased, squeezing Rown with a hug, then setting him free. “You do have faith in me, don’t you?”
Pealing bells caused them both to jump. Sterlave had heard those alarms only once, when the empress suite was set on fire. His heart plunged straight through the floor. Where was Kasmiri? Before Rown could answer, Sterlave brushed a kiss to his forehead and ran toward the advisors’ meeting room.
“I do have faith in you!” Rown yelled to his retreating back.
It wasn’t much, but it lifted Sterlave’s spirits. Now if only he could find Kasmiri and hear her say the same. Unfortunately, the closer he came to the meeting room, the more cluttered the hallway became. Dozen of confused people milled about. Excited voices babbling about carnage and the empress cut his nerves to razor edge, compelling him to force his way through the throng.
At the door, he saw two headless bodies and blood streaking across the floor toward the open pit seating. Darting his gaze frantically for any sign of her, he found the missing heads of her guards. Two good men who had clearly died protecting her. A part of him wanted to turn away at that moment, because he couldn’t bear the thought of finding her broken and bloody, but he had to know. Sterlave stepped into the room and stood above the sunken seats. Huddled beside her chair was Ambo, clutching something in his fist.
“Where is she?” Sterlave asked. Ambo ignored him and continued to rock himself. Jumping down into the pit, Sterlave grasped his shoulder, wrenching him around. “Where is Kasmiri?” Ambo’s normally pudgy face was sunken, pale, his eyes wide, and his lips slack. He was in shock. In his hand, he clutched a half-full container. Sterlave knelt down and grasped Ambo’s face in his hands, forcing him to focus on him. “Where is she?”
A flicker of life flowed into his gaze. “He…he took her.” Wine saturated his breath.
Sterlave didn’t waste time asking who. “Where did he take her?”
“Helton’s world.”
On the verge of slapping some sense into the wine-addled buffoon, Sterlave lifted his hand. Kasmiri screamed right above him. He dropped and rolled onto his back but saw nothing. Ambo must have heard it, too, because he covered his ears and moaned low in his throat.
“Silence!” Sterlave couldn’t hear where it had come from with his whimpering.
Again, Kasmiri cried, her voice high and gasping, clearly in terrible pain. Oh gods, Loban was torturing her. Whatever doubt still clung to him Sterlave shook off in that moment. When Sterlave found Loban, he was going to kill him.
“Kasmiri? I’m coming!” He yelled up at the ceiling for lack of anyplace better to focus his voice.
“You don’t even know where she is.” Loban’s singsong voice came at him directionless.
“Stop shouting.” Ambo fumbled at the base of Kasmiri’s chair. “Here, it’s coming from here on all the chairs.” He pointed to a small, flat disk mounted under her chair. When Sterlave looked, he noticed every chair had one.
“Tell me where you are.” Sterlave lowered his voice but still projected power in his tone.
“Why would I do that? Maybe I want her for myself. She is quite soft in all the best places. Something I’m sure you know.” There was no true passion in the voice, only cruel mockery.
Sterlave had always known that someday he would have to face Loban. Letting his brutality go unacknowledged was irresponsible, but letting his crime go unpunished was reprehensible. Sterlave had a part in allowing Loban to turn into the monster he’d become. He had to make his mistake right, and Kasmiri had nothing to do with his cowardice.
“You don’t want her, you want me.” Sterlave stood, waiting for Loban’s response. After a moment, he heard his voice waft over the room.
“Come to me, Sterlave. Have Ambo show you the way.”
Every time Ambo slowed down, Sterlave shoved him forward. Kasmiri’s life was on the line and nothing was going to stop him from rescuing her. Ambo stumbled and dropped his wine. When he bent to retrieve the container, Sterlave kicked his rear. Hastily, he grabbed the bottle and stood, clutching the glass to his chest like a shield. Tears of frustration rolled down his face, but Sterlave had no time for kindness. Also, he knew Ambo was mixed up in this mess. He knew it as surely as he knew Helton was too. Those two had been hand-in-glove over getting every recruit to issue a challenge to Chur, and Sterlave knew they were the same here. Perhaps they both saw Loban as the rightful champion. Not that it mattered. Once he disposed of Loban, Sterlave would take care of Ambo and Helton. There would be no forgiveness this time. They would have a choice of exile to Rhemna or suffer under the stone. Mercy would not sway him to make the same mistake Chur had.
“How does Helton have his own world? Moreover, how does it fit in his room?” In the last few days, Sterlave had had to change his perception about many things. Someone having a world in their room wasn’t very much stranger than fallen ones possessing people or his friend becoming a demigod.
Sniffling, Ambo wiped his hand across his nose. “Empress Clathia received the world as a gift after her bonding ceremony. She didn’t know what to do with it. Her consort discovered there were no alluring conquests there, so as a token of her esteem, she presented the gift to Helton.” Ambo wiped his hand down his trousers, then took another swallow of his wine. “The world isn’t in his room, but the portal is.”
Only the elite would give worlds as gifts. “Aren’t there inhabitants on this world? What do they think of being passed around?”
Drunken eyes assessed him coldly. “They are inferior. Hardly in a position to make demands.”
Sterlave shoved him again. Not that he needed to, but he was certain Ambo thought he was inferior. What arrogance the elite possessed. No wonder Kasmiri had sneered when he’d claimed her. Ingrained into their collective conscience was a misguided belief that they were better simply because they possessed wealth. As he continued stomping along the hallwa
ys, listening to his boots echo, he wondered if he had changed Kasmiri’s mind. Did she see him as an equal, or was she only biding her time with him until she selected another more appropriate consort?
As soon as the doubt crept in, he knew they were getting close. Loban was flinging uncertainty at him just as he’d flung lust. Sterlave did his best to shake the suspicions off. He and Kasmiri agreed to just the two of them, and he would trust her word. But another thought occurred to him: What lurked in the room full of gifts Kasmiri received? Had a barsitas been so moved by her bonding ceremony that he sent along an entire world?
“We can simply close the portal.” Ambo stopped and turned, wavering a bit from side to side. “He can’t come back if the door is shut.”
“Sounds like a great idea except he has Kasmiri.”
Rolling his eyes, Ambo said, “She is an ungrateful pharadean. If she does return, she’ll be put to the stone anyway.” Clearly, he’d forgotten whom he was talking to. A smidgen of sobriety entered Ambo’s eyes as he looked up into Sterlave’s angry face.
“Explain that word to me.”
“It’s nothing.”
One fist around his throat changed Ambo’s mind.
“She is not the rightful empress.” Fear caused Ambo not to mince words. “Helton Ook is her father.”
Stunned, Sterlave released his hold. He thought her father was the one who cheated on her mother, but apparently, her mother cheated too. He thought only the mother mattered as the line of power went from mother to daughter; however, he wasn’t about to ask Ambo and reveal his ignorance.
“I don’t care.” And he found he didn’t. She could be the daughter of a servant and he would still save her. Kasmiri was his bondmate. Even if she weren’t, he wouldn’t leave anyone stranded on a strange world with Loban. Sterlave spun Ambo around and forced him down the hall.
Dark Harvest Page 27