Sacrifice of the Septimus: Part 2 (Afterlife saga Book 7)

by Stephanie Hudson

  No, when I thought about my own death I never saw what faced me now. If I could have been ruler of my own fate then my death would have been in sacrifice to save the other half of my soul. It would have been so that the man I loved would live because of my death. So many times before I felt myself die without actually leaving this earth and every time I spoke the name of who I lived for the most.

  But now… well now I spoke his name to save my life. Because he held my life in his hands and as the blade dug deeper into my fragile flesh, one already bruised and beaten, I knew the horrifying truth…

  Love couldn’t save me now. It was all for nothing. My sacrifice wasn’t my happy ending it was my lost beginning. I could see that now as clearly as I could see my fear reflected in the cold metal that collected my tears. So did I see myself dying of a broken heart and soul along with a broken body…no, that was never supposed to be my sacrifice. That wasn’t written in the fates or seen by any God, which could only mean one thing…

  I wasn’t his Chosen One after all.

  So as the tears started to fall for a new reason other than fear, I looked into the deep dark eyes of the man I loved and pleaded for my life…one…last…time,

  “Please Arsaces, King of Kings…

  “Don’t kill me.”

  Chapter 38

  Mistakes

  Visions of your own death can make a person cower in fear or want to stand tall and face the end with brave dignity. But what of the middle ground? What if you shook with fear and cried tears of hurt, but also straightened your back and held your head high, just so that the man you loved could see the pain he inflicted not only upon your body but also upon your soul. What if you wanted him to look deep into your eyes just as the knife he held to your throat took your life and have him remember just how deep the blade actually went.

  But what if it was all for nothing because in actual fact the man in front of you didn’t even know who you were? What then? Would you beg for a love that you had to convince someone to feel? It’s strange how many questions can riddle your brain in the seconds before your death and in reality what a waste of time it really was.

  So I wasn’t his Chosen One after all and even though tears wouldn’t help me now, they came anyway. I looked into the deep dark eyes of the man I loved and asked him to spare my life, a life he didn’t yet know would change his…

  Forever.

  “Please Arsaces, King of Kings…Don’t kill me.” In that moment time really did stand still for me and I couldn’t tell if it was on my side or not. Nothing moved around us and once more in my life it was as if we were the only two people in the room. His hand didn’t move one centimetre, meaning neither did the blade move away from my tender flesh but his other hand raised up so slowly, I would have laughed thinking it was because he didn’t want to startle me…obviously though I swallowed the insane urge to do so.

  I held my breath the closer his other hand got to my face, too scared to move from fear of this seemingly gentle gesture turning into the opposite and lashing out against me. Thankfully for me it remained as I hoped as he gently pushed back the hood that was keeping me concealed from him. I wished in that moment for nothing more than to find the man I loved staring back at me but his eyes held only curiosity and nothing more. It was heart-breaking and I swallowed hard, momentarily forgetting about the blade. He watched the motion, eyes focussed on my neck and I let myself hope for mercy when he pulled the blade back ever so slightly. Surely if the man holding the blade to your throat was concerned about cutting you as you swallowed heavily, then did that mean I had something to hope for?

  I was surprised that he hadn’t yet spoken but simply continued to stare as if we didn’t have over a hundred people all watching us. No, instead he gripped my chin and moved my face up and down, then from side to side as if examining every inch, all the time keeping the blade there as if ready to strike out at any minute.

  “What is your name, girl?” Finally, he spoke and I couldn’t help but jump a little hearing his voice for the first time as it scared me. It was like my Draven but then again it wasn’t. Almost as if his voice seemed older, which was of course the opposite to what it should have been considering I was currently thousands of years in the past. But the deeper rasp and harshness to his voice sounded as though it came from many more years of being a ruler than the Draven I was used to.

  I watched as a pair of lips framed by a black beard tilted up in a slight smirk and it was as if he was amused that he had frightened me. It was only when he raised one eyebrow that I knew he was still waiting for his answer…one I didn’t have for him.

  “What does it matter what a scurrying rat is called as it sneaks through the alley, it is a rodent that needs to be punished!” The man who I had bumped into shouted as his rage bubbled over. For the first time since holding me hostage Draven’s eyes left mine and looked over my head to the angry man. Now if I thought the look he had given me was harsh then it had nothing on the cold calculating look he was now giving to this man, who I guessed would also soon know what it feels like to have a blade against his throat.

  “Correct me if I am wrong, for it rarely happens, but have I been sitting in your throne all these years, for I was under the impression you were a loyal Satrap serving the King of Kings…is this not so?” Draven said with confidence and it was as striking as it was mocking, but all the while still managing to maintain his commanding tone. I didn’t actually know how he accomplished it to be honest but either way, it was something to behold.

  The rest of the room also seemed to hold their breath, waiting to see how this would play out just as I was. However, the man in question blustered around with his words trying for an answer, but in the end he couldn’t keep his King waiting any longer.

  “You are…are not...wro… wrong my King.”

  “No, as I said, I rarely am. But just to be sure, once more correct me but last I checked, your name was Narseh…not Arsaces!” Draven roared these last two words, driving his dangerous point home. The man suddenly dropped to his knees like the rest of the room and cowed beneath him without Draven having to move a threatening muscle towards him.

  “Yes my King, forgive my insolence,” he pleaded, with his face to the floor and I half wondered if it would’ve been better had I done the same when begging for my own life.

  “And do you wish for such insolence to go solely unpunished?” Draven asked of him and the man nodded his head frantically stating a definite ‘yes’, still keeping his eyes to the floor. It was obvious to me that he feared his king’s wrath enough to want to beg not to receive it.

  “And are you yourself willing to extend the same forgiveness to an act against you that was equally as insolent as the disrespect you showed your King?” Hearing this I sucked in a sharp breath and once more, he moved his blade slightly further back to allow for my movements and in doing so saving my skin from being sliced.

  “I do, my King,” he quickly said raising his eyes to Draven’s for the first time and knowing that the only way to save his own skin was to also save mine.

  “Then perhaps I am in a forgiving mood, as are you, Narseh.” Draven said and as soon as he was obviously finished with the man his eyes looked back to mine. Then as quickly as he had put it there he removed the blade from my neck and I could finally breathe freely for the first time in a small eternity.

  “You may all rise,” he commanded the room before looking to me and then nodding to the man named Narseh behind me. At first I had no clue what he was trying to tell me or wanted me to do, so with the weapon now once more tucked safely away in its sheath, I braved to ask,

  “Umm…I’m sorry my Lord, but I don’t know what you want me to do?” I whispered leaning forward a little and feeling braver than before. It quickly became apparent that this was something else I had done that amused him as that handsome smirk was back before he leaned his head down to my short height and whispered back,

  “Time to apologise, my little damaged lamb.” The
sound of his velvet sweet voice was enough to make me remember that this was my Draven I was speaking to, even if he himself didn’t know it yet. It was enough to ignite that tiny spark of hope within me and fan the flames of my reasons for being here. So my response was my most natural yet as I couldn’t help but bite my bottom lip as I always did when hearing that seductive tone in his voice. His eyes quickly became captivated by the sight and it was only when I finally let his actual words sink in that I broke the spell for both of us.

  “Oh right, yes, yes…of course…uh Nar…uh…”

  “Narseh.” Draven whispered behind me as I had turned to face the man who had been the cause of this whole fiasco. He was trying to help me say his name and I quickly repeated it before I forgot once more how to say it.

  “Narseh, I am sorry for my actions, please forgive me.” I said in a rush and trying to ignore the look of utter disdain that he was giving me in return. I had, of course, felt like adding ‘but if you weren’t such a dick to me then I would never have tried to break your nose’, but thought better of it.

  “All is forgiven,” he said through gritted teeth and then quickly added,

  “Now if you will allow me to take my leave my King, I believe my taste for the festivities is somewhat bitter now.” I looked back to Draven who nodded without saying another word and did so without even looking at him. Perhaps because he was too busy looking at me which in turn was making me blush a healthy rose colour.

  “Now as I trust I will not be interrupted again you can answer my first question,” he said and for a dumbstruck moment I had to think about what that question was.

  “Your name, little lamb,” he said reminding me softly. I almost asked why he kept calling me that but in the end decided to accept it as the unfortunate nickname he had obviously chosen to call me.

  “I’m sorry but I can’t remember.” I blurted out thinking this was the best course of action. Although when he crossed his massive arms over his chest and raised a disbelieving eyebrow at me, I wasn’t so sure.

  “You can’t remember your own name? Do I have that right?” he asked unconvinced. I nodded not trusting myself to speak.

  “I am not satisfied with that answer. Guards take her to my chamber where she will be questioned further,” he said motioning them forward with a simple hand gesture. In my mind I was in full blown panic mode as I had no idea what being ‘questioned further’ actually meant and suddenly explicit thoughts bombarded my mind of what happened in my dreams the last time I was in his bedchamber. I knew this thought shouldn’t have bothered me as after all it was why I was here, but it was as if something was telling me not to do this. Almost as if the time wasn’t right.

  “I uh…well I am not sure…” I was just about to try and worm my way out of it when suddenly a voice spoke up for me and at that moment it was one I couldn’t have been more thankful to hear.

  “My Lord, forgive me for intruding.”

  “What is it, Ranka?” Draven said looking to the side over his shoulder at her as she approached from in between the people in her way. Once they saw who it was trying to pass through, the people quickly started to move out of her way, letting me know that they probably knew what she could do with a bow in her hand.

  “I came to tell you that what she says is true.” This obviously surprised him as much as it did me, thankfully though it was his reaction I witnessed not the other way around as he had turned fully to face Ranka, missing my mouth dropping open.

  “Explain!” he ordered sternly after making a head gesture to his guards which obviously meant ‘at ease’ or something. And he did all this without unfolding his arms, easily showing his displeasure.

  “I found her on my hunt, my Lord. She couldn’t tell me her name or where she had come from before she lost consciousness.” Draven looked back to me and raised a hand slowly to my face once more but this time, he gently ran the back of his fingers down my heated face, one that still burned from being hit by the bastard who had attacked me in the desert.

  “And this?” he asked in a hard tone of displeasure. In that moment I had to force myself to hold his gaze because all I wanted to do was look away, feeling ashamed of what he must now see when he looked at me. Now I knew why he had called me ‘damaged’ earlier.

  “I found her being attacked by men of the West. They were about to take her unwillingly before she fought back the best she could,” Ranka said and for a small moment Draven looked over me as if surprised that someone of my size would try and fight back. Was that a small glimmer of respect I saw in his eyes?

  “And what of them now?”

  “They answered for their crimes, my Lord,” Ranka replied bowing her head.

  “Good, see that their heads are mounted at the gates for all to see what happens to those who commit crimes against our people on my lands.” Ranka nodded again in respect and said,

  “My Lord,” as a way of answer. Meanwhile I shivered at the thought of such a brutal statement being made, thinking, ‘well I definitely wasn’t in Kansas anymore’.

  “So you believe our little lamb here can’t remember who she is?” Draven asked Ranka but still looking at me and again making me blush because of it. Jesus, but was there a time in history where Draven wasn’t this intimidating?! Maybe in the 60’s when everyone was smoking weed and all about the flower power. But even then, I couldn’t picture Draven at the time wearing bell bottom trousers and loud shirts with big pointed collars. If anything, the thought was just funny. Thankfully for me in that moment the next sentence from Ranka was sobering enough not to laugh at the thought of Draven as a hippy.

  “She received a few heavy blows from her attacker my Lord, which if the Elder theories are true, may account for her memory loss.” Thank the Gods for Ranka, that’s all I could say right then…well, obviously not out loud.

  “So I can see,” Draven said, once more taking my chin in between his finger and thumb and turning my head to the side to get a better sight of my injuries.

  “Your personal thoughts?” Draven asked and I couldn’t help but dart my eyes sideways looking to see if we still had an audience like before. I was amazed to find that everyone seemed to be purposely looking anywhere but at their King and, sampling his temper for myself, I couldn’t say that I blamed them.

  “I think that it is possible she may have been a slave transported here to sell for the pleasure house when the attack occurred.” I had to stop myself from wrinkling up my nose in disgust at the thought of being both a slave and being forced into prostitution.

  “Were there other victims?” he asked, continuing on the conversation as if I wasn’t even there, but I guessed in this time most women were seen and not heard. Well he will most certainly be in for a shock when he gets to the 21st century, that was for damn sure!

  “No, my Lord,” Ranka said honestly.

  “Then the question remains, has our little lamb here run from her flock or is she merely lost from them?” This question was one I think was directed at me as he was staring straight at me when he said it. I decided the best course of action was to remain on the lost memory path as it seemed to be working for me so far.

  “I don’t remember.” It was only when he raised a questioning brow at me and then quickly to Ranka that I realised my mistake. Thankfully she came through again for me and mouthed the words ‘My King’ giving me the prompt I needed.

  “Oh, right…My King.” Okay so it wasn’t my best performance but it was obviously keeping him amused, which was far better than angry. I got the impression that if in that moment Ranka could have gotten away with smacking her forehead in frustration then she would have.

  “I doubt she has ever been granted the honour of such an occasion as to address a King, my Lord.” Ranka said, trying to make excuses for me.

  “I don’t know what I find more curious Ranka, this pale uncultured creature before me or the fact that you wish to defend and protect her,” Draven said obviously pulling her up on what must seem to him unusual b
ehaviour.

  “I saved her life by taking the life of others, I merely do not wish for it to be done in vain, my Lord.” Oh but this was a great answer and I could tell that it was also enough to satisfy Draven’s curiosity. He was about to answer her when a quiet gentle voice interrupted.

  “My King?” A servant said who approached Draven with their head bowed and kept to the floor in deepest respect.

  “What is it?” Draven demanded in a harsh tone as if he did not appreciate being disturbed at this time.

  “My King, Stateira wishes to know if you request her presence in your chamber tonight?” As soon as she had finished this sentence my heart plummeted and if I thought the fear of death had been bad, then it was nothing to having the hand of the man you loved unknowingly tear out your heart, forget about slitting your throat.

  Draven’s eyes hardened for a few seconds and it was the first time I noticed that I hadn’t yet seen the flash of purple that was so often to be seen when Draven’s emotions came into play. He obviously thought of me the same as any other human and hid that side of him because of it. The thought was more than a little depressing.

  “Very well then, I entrust her future into your care and leave it in your hands as to what is to become of her,” he said to Ranka, as if only now making up his mind because of this sudden disturbance. He turned his back on me and I couldn’t help but let my eyes drop to the floor to hide my misery.

  “As for you…” then his voice startled me as I was sure he had left already but instead he came back over to face me and leaned in until we were merely inches apart. I held my breath and in that moment his grin told me that he knew how his presence affected me.