by Zoey Ellis
She was deep in thought when the door to her cabin cracked open. She spun around and backed up against the wall, her knees bent, leaning forward, trying to prepare for what may come next.
A man with a pointy blue beard popped his head through the door. "Are you up?" He widened the crack in the door and slipped in, before closing it behind him and locking it again. He turned toward her, a flask in one hand and a friendly smile on his face as he took her in. He had a boyish look, even though he was clearly a grown Beta male. He wore a long, colorful tunic with black half-pants that were cut in the bobbed style of Western Land wear. His thick blue hair was tied back behind his head, his brown face open and expressive.
Cailyn was taken aback by his grin and general upbeat demeanor. She remained still and quiet, watching to see what he was going to do.
"My name is Emric," the man said, remaining by the door. He glanced around the room. "Is everything okay in here with you?"
Cailyn scowled. Why did people who kept prisoners seem to think that their prisoner would be happy to be locked up? "Is that a trick question?"
Emric’s smile faltered. He dipped his head in a small bow. "I'm just trying to ascertain whether you’re feeling well," he said lifting his head again. "These journeys can sometimes cause sickness and nausea."
"These journeys? You mean across the White Ocean.”
Emric nodded, confirming what she suspected. "You get used to it after a while, but initially it can be horrendous on the stomach."
"Why am I here?"
Emric lifted the flask. "Would you like some water?"
Cailyn looked him over carefully for a moment, then realized that she hadn’t had any water since contacting the Mothers. She would have to take the risk of accepting it. "Yes, water would be great."
Emric held out the flask to her but Cailyn didn't move. "Put it down over there," she instructed, pointing at the table.
Emric glanced at the short table next to him. "Yes of course," he muttered. He placed down the flask and then straightened, a frown on his face. "I hope you realize that you are here as a guest."
"A guest?" The urge to laugh and the urge to rage both hit her at the same time. "I was drugged and dragged onto this ship. In fact, I remember your voice. You did it! And you expect me to assume I’m a guest here?" She shook her head, disbelief bounding through her. When did this delusion sweep the Lands that captives are guests? "Am I to be sold as a slave?"
Emric’s frown deepened. "I'm very sorry. There has been a misunderstanding. I thought this had been explained to you."
His worried expression confused Cailyn somewhat.
“We know you are the Omega that was being kept by Emperor Drocco."
A cold shock blasted through her, her mouth suddenly dry. They already knew.
"We may have drugged you and dragged you onto the ship," Emric continued, "but that was necessary to ensure we secured you safely and quickly. We do not intend to treat you like a prisoner. King Malloron would like to host you as a guest in the Western Lands."
Cailyn eyed him. "Why?"
Emeric smiled, his face becoming relaxed and open again. "I'm sure you could guess? You’re the first Omega the Lands has ever known in the last one hundred years."
“That doesn't tell me anything," Cailyn said. "Emperor Drocco kept me locked up. Is that what King Malloron is planning to do?"
Emric shook his head firmly. "I do not doubt that barbarian did terrible things to you, but you won’t be hurt in the Western Lands. King Malloron is a very generous and thoughtful man."
“He's an Alpha," Cailyn said, sharply. "I very much doubt that thoughtful is the best way to describe him."
Emric smiled again. "That’s where you’re wrong. He is indeed very thoughtful. You’ll see." Emric looked around the room again. "It seems that you are settling so I will leave you to it. Dinner will arrive shortly, anything you don't like please let us know. We will try to ensure that your meals are pleasant."
“Wait," Cailyn interrupted. “You haven't told me anything. Why have I been taken in this manner? Why does the king want to see me and how did you find me?"
Emric stilled. "I’ll tell you if you tell me your name."
Cailyn considered him thoughtfully. “Cailyn,” she said finally. “My name is Cailyn."
"Beautiful name," Emric commented. He sighed and leaned against the door. "The way you were taken wasn’t ideal," he began. "Initially we were supposed to take you at the Palace, but after all of the Emperor's charms were disabled, it was difficult to navigate. It seems as though the Emperor had been attacked and there was a panic we hadn’t anticipated. So much of what we had planned couldn't happen."
Cailyn pushed away the familiar wave of guilt. It went against her nature to attack somebody who wasn't armed. Of course, Drocco didn’t need to be armed to do considerable damage to her, but it still felt wrong.
"The information passed through our network that you were no longer at the Palace, that you had somehow escaped," Emric continued. "And we simply searched for you in the most common areas people tended to hide—crowded, busy areas where people are usually too distracted to look carefully at someone’s dress or demeanor. We scoured various locations, then found you at the port. It was easier to simply grab you and drag you onto the ship, since you were so near, than to try to explain anything to you. Also, I couldn’t have allowed you to say no anyway," Emric grinned. "King Malloron is indeed a gracious man, but he's not that forgiving of failure."
Cailyn frowned, a realization coming to her. “But how did you know it was me? The Emperor locked me up. No one saw me.”
“I cannot really explain any more,” Emric said, puckering his lips. “You’ll have to ask King Malloron.”
Cailyn exhaled harshly. “How can you not—”
“Please,” Emric said abruptly, holding up his palms. “It’s not a question I can answer. You have to ask King Malloron.” He rubbed the pads of his fingers in little circles against his thumbs and looked around the cabin.
Cailyn watched him closely. Either he was afraid to give her information or he had been told not to tell her. But she needed to find out how they located her. Her blocks had been in place, and they naturally protected her from location spells or anything that a Talent-crafter from the Western Lands could have come up with. Granted, the Western Lands Talent-crafters tended to be more skilled than crafters in the other Lands, but she, nor any of the Omegas from the Compound, had ever had any issue protecting themselves. She resolved to find a way to get Malloron to explain it to her, if he was willing to actually treat her like a person with rights, unlike Drocco.
"I'm sorry if you were hurt during your capture.” Emric’s voice broke through her clouded thoughts. His eyes were downcast. "That wasn’t our intention at all. We would like you to feel that you are a guest, we value your presence here."
"I wasn't hurt," Cailyn confirmed. "However I find it hard to believe I’m a guest, when I’m locked in here."
Emric nodded. "I understand that, Cailyn, but you are locked in here for your own safety as much as anything else," he explained. "I'm sure you recognize that this is a slave ship. The other cabins are not as comfortable and they hold slaves. It’s a long journey and they occasionally need exercise from their cabins, sometimes they need discipline… It would not be appropriate for you to roam the ship."
Cailyn's eyes locked with his and he seemed sincere, even though the whole situation was just crazy. “I never requested to come on this ship, Emric,” she said evenly. “I’m not here of my own freewill. If you say I have to stay locked in here, then I am a prisoner, whether you see it that way or not.”
Emric worried his lips as he thought, his brows in a deep frown. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” he said. “I can, of course, understand your point, but I’m under strict orders.”
Cailyn nodded. Yet another minion doing the bidding of his master. She had seen plenty of that while out on missions in the Eastern Lands. She walked to the bed and d
ropped down upon it heavily.
“I’m sure you wouldn’t prefer to be back with that barbaric Emperor,” Emric commented.
A faint longing crept over Cailyn as she remembered her nest, being in Drocco’s arms, his beautiful, satisfied purr just after they mated… “No,” she said, trying not to stutter. “But that doesn’t make this any less a kidnap.”
Emric sighed and took her in. "Get some sleep, Cailyn. I’ll ask Helyna to bring in dinner. It must have been very tiring and distressing for you to escape that place, and I’m sure you’ve been in here worrying. Please do rest. Nothing will happen to you if you decide to sleep, I assure you."
Cailyn glanced at him warily, but decided that she would indeed take the opportunity to sleep. He hadn't moved from the door or in any way showed himself to be interested in hurting her. In fact, he seemed sincere and genuine. Maybe he was as deluded as Drocco was, but at least he had not come near her. She opened her mouth to ask about the lack of access to magic and then decided against it. One of the main preservation methods she learned was never to mention the Talent or magic unless someone brought it up. She was heading to the founding land of the Talent, no doubt it would be mentioned sooner or later, and as long as her blocks remained in place, she didn't have a problem. She nodded at Emric before lying down on the bed.
CHAPTER THREE
DROCCO
"Emperor Drocco, I'm sorry to disturb you."
Drocco glanced up from his reading. In the last few days, as the Lox prepared to travel across the White Ocean, he had spent all his time reading as much as he could about Eiros and King Malloron. If the King of Ashens had learned to use knowledge as a weapon, so could he, and he needed everything at his disposal to deal with Malloron and his devious tricks. Additionally, Cailyn’s use of the Talent to attack him had highlighted a strength about the Talent he hadn’t been aware of—it could be used as a weapon in combat. Granted, Cailyn’s use of the Talent had been considered unusual by his Talent-crafters but, since Malloron was highly skilled, Drocco could not underestimate him, even if the very thought of the fucker sent Drocco into a raging dark mood.
The head keeper stepped tentatively into the room, his blue robe swaying around him.
"What is it?" Drocco asked.
"This may not be important, but if you want further data on your Omega, I can try to find some."
Drocco straightened. "What do you mean?"
The keeper closed the door behind him. "The birth of every child born in the Eastern Lands is recorded here," he began. "If they go missing, we file them separately as potential Omegas. If your Omega was born in the Eastern Lands, it’s likely that we have a record of that birth and it could provide details about your Omega or her family."
Drocco rose from his chair slowly, his eyes becoming darker as a tension crept around his chest. If information about Cailyn had been here all along, he needed never use Malloron's fucking spell. "Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?"
The head keeper’s brow raised slightly and he took a tiny step back. "I assumed it wasn't important, Emperor. The most pressing concern the last time we spoke was ensuring that your Omega was responding well to you. I assumed she would tell you about her past once your connection with her had been secured."
Drocco's jaw clenched. "I want all her information. Now. Anything you have."
The keeper dipped his head. "I just need her full name and I’ll be able to find her file."
"I don't have a full name. I have her first name, that was all she knew."
"Do you know how old she is?"
Drocco scowled, his eyes burning into the head keeper.
"O-or if you could guess how old she might be?” the keeper suggested tentatively. “There are a lot of files, Emperor Drocco. I need an idea where to start."
"She is naturally built to be smaller than most," Drocco said. "I cannot possibly make an intelligent guess at her age. She could be twenty, she could be thirty."
The keeper nodded and turned toward the door. "All right. I'll start looking now."
“Who will be doing this with you?”
The man paused. “No one. I assume you would like to keep all information on this private?”
“Of course.”
The keeper nodded. “It may take a while, but I should find something.”
Drocco threw down the file in his hand. "I will join you."
The birth records took up a number of rooms on the lower ground floor of the Records Keep. Rows upon rows of shelves adorned the walls, filled with files arranged in date order. Unfortunately, Drocco had no idea how to spell Cailyn’s name. As he thumbed through the Ks in annoyance, he realized he didn't know enough about his Omega. It was something he had to rectify—there were a lot of things he had to rectify.
As the days passed, the preparations for travel began to stretch longer than anticipated. Drocco had started the Lox in his home territory, Hallowcryst, and then went on to dominate every other territory, ending with Ashens. Although the Eastern Lands was made up of three main land masses, the Lox had never any reason to cross an ocean. They had no ships suitable for long distance travel, particularly none large enough to carry even half of the Lox across the White Ocean at one time. They were skilled with land travel, sea travel, and port defense, but on the ocean they would be vulnerable. They had to find a way to get across safely and quickly without exposing themselves to Malloron, who would no doubt have the knowledge of dealing with hostile ships. Of course, Drocco and Torin debated constantly about varying strategies, and Torin remained frustrated that Drocco spent so much time at the Records Keep.
After almost two weeks of searching, Drocco finally came close to identifying Cailyn’s birth record. Even though there was an enormous volume of names recorded over the years, there were only five hundred births of Cailyns of various spelling recorded between twenty to thirty years ago. Once Drocco had discounted all who had not been born in Cillford and all who had not been born to farmers, only eight remained.
The next day, he set out to Cillford, leaving Torin to continue preparing the army for travel. Torin was furious he was leaving Ashens in the middle of battle preparations to travel across the Fenish Sea to a place at least a week away, but it made no difference to Drocco. He needed to find Cailyn's family. He couldn't explain the urge, but a curiosity had been building since the moment she said she didn’t know her family name. Besides, they already had their plan for Eiros. Much of the remaining preparations did not apply to him directly, but the Lox.
Drocco arrived in Cillford a week and a half later. The first farm he located was deserted and run down, surrounded by yellow, dry land that suggested no one had taken responsibility for it in decades. The second one, however, was a thriving farmland that stretched further than he could see with an imposing traditional farmhouse set back thirty paces from the road.
As the Imperial carriages drew to a stop outside the large farmhouse, a large, stocky man emerged from it and stood on the patio.
Drocco exited his carriage and headed directly toward him. He had not brought any staff with him other than two of his guards, who followed him to the door.
"Greetings, your Imperial Majesty," the man said as Drocco approached. "I'm afraid I wasn’t expecting you. Is there something I can help you with?"
Drocco looked over the man carefully, recognizing he was an Alpha. He had tanned skin, like Cailyn, though his hair layered through various shades of gray.
"Yes," Drocco responded. "I'm here about your daughter, Cailyn, who went missing twenty years ago."
The man tensed, and his hazel eyes came alive. "What about her?"
"I need information about her."
"Why?" the man demanded, his tone deepening.
Drocco remained silent. Yes, this man was definitely an Alpha of the older generation. He didn't give a shit that Drocco was Emperor. To him, Drocco was simply a young Alpha he didn't have to answer to; however, Drocco had not made his way to Emperor by cowing to such expectat
ions.
When the silence lengthened, and Drocco's narrowed gaze remained firm on the man, he seemed to relent. "My apologies for my manners,” the older Alpha muttered gruffly. “Please come in, your Imperial Majesty." The man bowed his head and led Drocco into his property.
Drocco signaled for his guards to stay and followed the man through the entrance hall and into a large, rustic kitchen with a traditional earthstove. Wooden shelves layered the walls and thick beams stretched across the brick ceiling. Double mahogany cabinets were tucked into a number of corners and the mottled brown counter-tops gleamed in the sunshine pouring in through the large windows.
Drocco stood in the center looking around as his host took a seat at the table next to the wall. Grandfather's house had a kitchen like this. It was where Grandfather had preferred to work when he built his trademark knives, daggers, and other bladeware. He always claimed that the light was better in the kitchen, even though he had a workroom that was more suitable for his needs.
The rustle of movement brought Drocco out of his thoughts. "Who else lives here?" he asked.
The elder man kept his eyes on Drocco. "My sons and my wife."
"Call them in."
"Ida!" the man called.
The slapping of feet against the wooden floor came closer, and Drocco turned to see a slim Beta woman enter the kitchen. Her mousy brown hair was thin, though she had striking green eyes which grew wide and filled with concern as she saw him.
“My sons are out on the farm,” the older Alpha said. “They won’t be back until sun down.”
Drocco nodded. "Join us," he instructed the wife, gesturing to the table.
She glanced at her husband as she slipped into the chair next to him. "Is there something wrong, your Imperial Majesty?"
“Your names,” Drocco said, stating it as an order, not a question.
“Gifford and Ida Betheron,” the man said.