by Eden Ashley
Lunging sideways, Rhane twisted his torso in a fruitless attempt to avoid the incoming blow. The blunted sword buckled, pushed well beyond its wooden limits, and splintered apart upon impact with his ribcage. Pain exploded through Rhane’s torso, traveling up his arm and down into his fingertips. The sword slipped from the grasp of his right hand but was quickly caught by the left. Livid because Tovin had forsaken the rules, Rhane swung the weapon like a baseball bat, clobbering the warrior’s face three times before his body had a chance to fall. The wooden sword broke apart with each blow, violently whittled to a useless shard. Then he turned to finish Galagus. Anger blinded him to the danger of facing the old warrior with only bare hands, until Galagus attacked in a flurry of blows. Avoiding the worst of them, Rhane at last struck out, grappling one large hand around the warrior’s face and skull. He squeezed, tightening his fingers into a vise-like grip at the forehead and jaw. The warrior’s struggles weakened. His knees buckled and his form slowly sank into a crimson haze. Dense bone became pliant beneath the force of Rhane’s grasp, nearing collapse. And then Jehsi’s voice rumbled through his mind like distant thunder, dispelling the mist. “Rhane! You must stop.”
Rhane’s reaction was nearly as violent as the attack had been. His hand whipped away from Galagus’s collapsing form as the rest of his body lurched backward. The red cleared from his vision, allowing him a sickening of view the damage he’d done—and almost done. His heart hammered faster. Bile rose in his throat. Again, he’d lost control, and with nearly disastrous results. What if his father hadn’t called to him? He stepped back, conceding space to kin who moved in to collect Galagus and assist the injured who could not move on their own. But everyone appeared to be breathing. Even the old warrior remained in the land of the living…though his skull was perhaps a bit misshapen.
“Banewolf.”
Rhane’s mind snapped to attention at the stern address from Silas.
“You have breached the laws of these games. The use of mortal force is strictly forbidden and is punishable by equal might. You will face this judgment at once.”
Whoa. Rhane lowered his head, hoping to conceal the sudden sweat on his brow, and the way his jaw clenched and unclenched uncontrollably. Pain encircled his throat, knifing deep below the surface and threatening to cut off his air. He swallowed. Nearly choking, he swallowed again.
Jehsi flashed to his feet. “I demand amnesty. Tovin received a lawful strike, one that clearly removed him from battle. Yet he reentered the games unfairly, provoking Rhane’s wrath and everything that followed. As a witness of this violation, Galagus should have upheld statute and sacrificed further offense. But he did not. He attacked, and doing so put him in direct violation of these games. If Rhane must stand judgment then so must Tovin and Galagus.”
Murmurs erupted throughout the crowd assembled in the throne room. Silas waved his arm, and they were silenced. Using the most formal address, he turned to Cale. “Prime of Greinwysh, what say you?”
Seconds hammered by, pounding a short stretch of time into an eternity. Finally, Cale stood. “I take position with Jehsi. It was Tovin who infringed first upon these games. So may one be sentenced, so may they all.” He paused, meeting Jehsi’s uncompromising gaze for a fleeting instant. Rhane waited anxiously, though much of the tension slowly bled from his body. “However, may I put forward. All have each received due reckoning for their actions. Let their wounds serve as reminder for both their sin and our mercy.”
Silas grimaced. “So be it.”
“So be it,” Jehsi echoed.
When all three Primes had reclaimed their seats, Silas addressed the room. “Abuse of these games deems it a dishonorable act to declare a winner. The prize is forfeit. No glory shall come from this.”
Rhane bit his lip in annoyance. He didn’t care about a stupid prize or achieving any sort of fame in the eyes of the Primes. From the very start, they’d worked hard to stack the odds against him, eager to see the infamous Banewolf fall in ignominious defeat on a very unlevel playing field. He was tired and bruised. Others were broken, bloodied, or near death—all for the selfish whims of diabolical leaders.
Court was dismissed, and all warriors retired from duty. Rhane walked away without a second glance. Spotting a patch of auburn moving within the dispersing crowd, he adjusted his pace to keep the target in sight without being detected. One by one, and sometimes in small clusters, the kin took divergent paths, returning to their private chambers and living quarters. Eventually, only the auburn-haired boy and his guide remained in the stone hallway. They continued moving without once acknowledging Rhane’s continued presence. White stone became darker in hue, transitioning to plain rock as the corridor gained distance from the heart of the mountain. Several twists, a steep descent, and two left turns cut a trajectory close to the dungeons. It was here that Gareth took the boy’s arm, guiding him into a hidden room that was known to few. Rhane still trailed behind but moved deliberately to the secret doorway and stepped inside. He nodded at Gareth. The guide quietly accepted that signal and faded into dimmer regions of the chamber.
Warren’s scowl was thinly concealed. “Warlord,” he said, bowing his head stiffly.
It was as Rhane expected. He couldn’t blame the boy, really. All along he’d known how things would be once War knew the truth—that his father had died at Rhane’s hands.
War now realized the guy he idolized above all others—the man who had practically raised him—was the reason he was orphaned in the first place. Rhane had lied to him for four centuries, every day, every hour, every minute. And to find out while held prisoner. Before a tribunal and within a room full of strangers, his world had been ripped from beneath his feet. His trust in Rhane was deeply shaken.
But War knew it all couldn’t have been a lie. Rhane was still the same guy who had taught him to fight, to hunt, to think, and had pushed him to excel. Rhane loved him, and always would. Still it didn’t change the fact that he had robbed him of a chance to know his real father. If Rhane hadn’t gone berserk and slaughtered an entire legion of his own kin…
War shook his head. There was no way to imagine what his life would have been.
Guilt gnawed his insides as Rhane watched shadows of conflicting emotions cross the boy’s face. War was confused. He was angry and hurt. But even now, his allegiance was evident, deeply engrained in a bond founded with materials much stronger than the words of an oath. Things would have been better if he had just told War and the others the truth long ago. The reality of his mistake was unavoidable.
Rhane clasped both hands behind his back. He couldn’t trust them not to shake. “I’ve been gone awhile, and we haven’t spoken since my return.”
“You’ve been busy,” War said, his tone clearly indicating he wasn’t letting Rhane off the hook.
“Yeah.” Rhane cleared his throat. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“They finally let me out of my cell and reduced my guard down to one man.” War shrugged his shoulders. “Gareth, he’s okay. This is a vast improvement over the former circumstances.”
Flashes of the wolf’s memories came to Rhane’s mind from when the creature had battled to the surface for the sake of their survival, rescuing Rhane’s sanity from an abyss of suffering. He saw War bound and on his knees, fighting back tears as he was forced to watch endless sessions of Rhane’s brutal torment. Rhane winced. “Right.”
War’s scowl had softened, but now returned full force. He had obviously expected more.
“Why are we meeting down here?”
“I’m not supposed to remember you or anything from my past.”
“Because of—” War’s voice choked off the rest of the sentence.
“Yeah,” Rhane said anyway.
War’s face turned several shades redder. Both eyes moistened in appearance as he likely relived the experience. Rhane kicked himself, willing to give anything to reclaim the memory of how War liked to be comforted. Regaining composure, War wiped his eye
s. “I thought you were dead,” he said in a normal voice. “I didn’t know you weren’t until just now, at the games.”
“I’m sorry,” Rhane said quickly.
War’s self-possession fled just as quickly as it’d come. “I watched you die!”
Rhane opened his mouth to apologize again, but stopped. Saying “I’m sorry” for a second time would be stupid. “I hate them for making you a witness to that…And I hate myself for letting it come to this.”
Ducking his head, War nodded but didn’t speak. Tears were streaming down both sides of his face.
Shit. “Warren.” Rhane called his name softly. He wasn’t sure if he should touch him. Debating it, he decided not to. “I should have told you,” he said. “And I am so sorry that I didn’t. If could take it back, I would. I would take all of it back. You would have grown up with your father instead of me.”
“Yeah.” War sniffed. Exhaling deeply, he dried his face a final time. “Yeah,” he said again, but wouldn’t meet Rhane’s gaze.
For a long time, they were both quiet. Rhane waited. There wasn’t much else to say, but if the boy wasn’t ready to leave, then he sure as hell wasn’t going to be the first to walk away.
Finally, War’s chin lifted. A decision was resolute in the hazel eyes rendered fierce with emotion. He stepped closer. Leaning his head forward, he froze. But Rhane was already there, closing the gap, meeting him more than halfway. Clasping one hand across the boy’s nape, he brought their heads together. When the warmth of War’s hand encircled his neck in turn, Rhane sighed. It truly felt like he’d regained a son.
“I think we turned out okay,” War whispered.
Chapter 33
Rhane walked to his chambers with a much lighter heart. Mending the rift that stretched between him and War was the reason for his uplifted mood, but even after extending forgiveness to Rhane, the boy had still been considerably troubled. Technically no longer prisoners, he didn’t understand why they couldn’t leave Golden Mountain immediately and go home. Rhane had done his best to relate an updated understanding of the tangled web weaved between Warekin, rogues, and Builders, giving War an abridged recounting of events since his “execution” and the mission that followed. War’s freedom remained conditional upon Rhane’s obedience to the will of the Primes. In the end, the boy accepted their people could not be trusted but seemed only somewhat reassured by Kalista’s possession of the statue and the plan to use it as barter to secure their release. War’s persistent edginess caused Rhane to reevaluate his reasoning. He retraced every move he’d made since agreeing to work with rogues at the Mothers’ behest. It was true that the plan wasn’t airtight. Turning over the Heart to his people could not be risked, and orders couldn’t be abandoned without repercussion. If he and War fled in secret, they would be hunted and danger would once again end up on the manor’s doorsteps. Trusting Kalista to do what was necessary was the best option.
Rhane was almost too lost in his own thoughts to recognize a familiar cadence echoing behind him or register the smell drifting upwind. Spinning around, he came face to face with the last person he expected to see.
River halted. His clear blue eyes were a vault, keeping whatever emotion he felt locked away behind a wooden face and the rigid demeanor of his royal lineage. When he resumed walking, it was at a much slower pace. Rhane kept still. He couldn’t trust his hands or feet. He couldn’t trust his temper.
“Don’t look so surprised, brother. You cast me out, annulled my oath. Where else did you expect me to go?”
Channeling all his energy into the act, Rhane was able to relax his jaw enough to speak. “Knowing the treachery that has taken place behind these stone walls, I expected you to never return here.”
“I am kin without oath, without honor, and without love.”
Rhane flinched.
“Home is all there is left for me. Father and Mother are here. I was welcomed with open arms.”
Rhane snorted. He would hardly call Roma a mother and couldn’t imagine the wretch giving anyone a warm welcome. “What have you told them?”
River’s icy eyes got impossibly colder as he inclined his head slightly forward. “I have not forsaken your trust. I would never betray you.”
“Again,” Rhane spat. “You will never betray me again.”
“Rhane,” River uttered the name with soft regret, finally letting some emotion slip through. His lips parted to speak. But then he shook his head, chasing away the thought. “Allow me to take leave of your anger.” Rhane didn’t respond, and River retreated silently with a bow.
When River was gone from sight, Rhane leaned against the wall with one palm supporting his weight and took several deep breaths. River was here. He knew Rhane had recovered the statue and then given it away. If he told anyone, there would be one hell of a reckoning, and War would probably be the first to pay the price. The thought made Rhane sick.
Even though his brother professed allegiance to him, Rhane wasn’t sure River could be trusted. He and Roma had always shared a twisted bond. River incessantly tried pleasing a woman who could never know satisfaction. Efforts to earn adulation from a mother whose heart had become possessed by greed and darkened by bitterness were futile. Roma did love River. However, being her second born, he had failed her in a way that could not be atoned.
There was no doubt that Jehsi had known of River’s return to Golden Mountain, and yet he had not told Rhane. He and his father were crossing a tightrope stretched over a pit of ruin. Being on the same page at all times was crucial to survival. Needing to know why Jehsi hadn’t told him of his brother’s homecoming, Rhane pushed off the wall and headed to his father’s chambers.
Situated near the center of the mountain, Jehsi’s quarters were fairly modest in comparison to the pretentious dwellings of his fellow Primes. Rhane entered Jehsi’s outer chambers and was about to announce his presence but the sound of two voices stopped him. One belonged to Roma. She sounded angry, but that wasn’t unusual.
Rhane wanted to turn away. An argument between Jehsi and his mate was a private affair, something to be respected out of reverence for his father, and avoided out of distaste for his mother. But several words had already reached Rhane’s ears, luring him closer even as pain threatened the base of his skull, demanding that he retreat.
Jehsi’s voice was a harsh whisper and came from deep within the inner rooms of the dwelling, most likely near his sleeping furs. “Don’t test my endurance on this. I’m warning you.”
“River has finally returned to us and still finds no favor in your eyes. You have always chosen that mongrel over your own son,” Roma retorted fiercely. “Because of him I will never rule as Mother.”
“Is that really Rhane’s fault? Certainly you share some of that burden.”
“My only burden is listening to you and sparing his wretched life.”
Jehsi’s voice burned with quiet fury. “Rhane is also my son. Time is long past for you to accept that.” His tone softened. “I forgave you. I claimed him. Forgive yourself. Be once more the beauty I fell in love with.”
“I’ll never forgive him.”
“Roma, please—”
Rhane back away, reeling as the pain in his head spiked, gripping his skull relentlessly. A memory flashed to the surface of his mind, traveling along ruined pathways to bridge something lost in the past to the present. He saw his mother, bending over him as he kneeled on cold stone. The executioner’s blade pressed against the back of his neck. Her lips moved, brushing his ear as she spoke. Roma had always found much pleasure in his suffering, and in that instance, her joy nearly overflowed. As he felt his heart breaking in the memory, the pain in the present became so great, Rhane gasped. Gritting his teeth, he closed his eyes and retreated further. The agony immediately subsided. Back in the corridor, he staggered beneath the weight of the revelation, blind to all else beyond the memory. At last he understood why Roma had tried to murder her infant son. He knew why he had endured so much torment at the will
of her hands and why she could never love him.
“Mothers be chained,” he whispered.
But the knowledge was too much.
Rhane fell to his hands and knees. Retching violently, he heaved until his stomach was empty. He pressed his fists against his eyes, ashamed of the tears that were there, furious that Roma had won. She had finally broken him.
Rhane begged his trembling body to respond, to lift him from this beggar’s position. He could hear footsteps approaching.
No.
It was Jehsi, coming to discover who had crossed his doorstep. Rhane couldn’t face his father like this. He couldn’t see him like this.
Reaching out to the only thing that could ground him, Rhane imagined Kalista. He held onto her gray eyes and loving smile as her hand reached out for his. She turned away when he didn’t rise, ghosting into the passage. Shoving to his feet, Rhane followed the phantom image, and for the first time in his life, ran away from his father.