Spellbound

by Kodilynn Calhoun

  “I want to go in,” Kascien said, but Romas was a step ahead of him. He swiped a card and the door swung open, depositing them into a stench so horrific that Kascien gagged. He saw the corpse lying on the floor, his neck bent at an awkward angle. Kascien didn’t need to look into those empty eyes to know this was the old man. He said a silent goodbye, then looked at Romas. “Who was he?”

  “He was our Sovereign past, Gale Vanders. He was sentenced to be Forlorn by his own son.”

  So this was the Sovereign’s father. Kascien slowly shook his head. “Can you…send a team or something to give the poor guy a proper burial?”

  Romas’s eyes widened a fraction, but he nodded, handing Kascien a ring of keys. Then he stepped out of the room. Kascien sucked in a breath and headed for Vik’s cell. The man’s head jerked up in surprise and Kascien’s heart did a flip at the beaming smile that burst across Vik’s face. He quickly slid the key into the shackle on Vik’s ankle, making him a free man.

  “Kascien. I knew it…”

  Kascien could only stare. It was so obvious now. Beneath the dirt and bruising, they had the same nose, the same eyes. Goddamn, this was his father. He’d never let himself believe that he even had one, never believed that the man would come back for him and take him away from his life of slavery.

  He thought to Vik, offering words of advice throughout the years. Offering him Irianthe, the very blade that had killed the Sovereign. He helped Kascien escape this place. He’d been there for him…

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me?” His throat was tight. He swallowed back the knot as he fought off tears. Wylde rested one hand on his shoulder, then slipped her hand into his until their fingers knotted together.

  Vik dropped his gaze, a sad smile on his lips. “It would’ve hurt you too much to know that your father was a puppet of such a cruel man, a puppet to the point where I let my own son get branded a slave. You must hate me. I wouldn’t blame you.”

  He shook his head. “When you were born, I knew if I didn’t do something, he’d kill you. I’d seen him do it before. It wouldn’t have mattered if it was his own damn son. If he perceived it as a threat, the child would’ve died. So I had your magic bound only moments after your birth. I knew what would happen if the Sovereign saw you were useless, but wasn’t it better than your murder?”

  “I’ve always believed I’d failed you…until you showed up with that Wyvern, a new determination in your eyes. Such fire. I’d hoped you had a plan. And when the time came to help you…well. I didn’t hesitate. Irianthe was a gift to me from a friend. He told me that someday, I’d know what to do with it.”

  Wylde spoke before Kascien could even form the words. “You knew Cashien?”

  Vik smiled at them. “We became close after our Sovereign locked him away. I was put in charge of caring for him. I did what I could to help him escape, but… Things don’t always work out the way you plan for it and Cashien wanted…peace. He wanted it enough to risk his life for it. I held his hand as he died and he promised me that someday, my son would right the wrongs of the Magi.”

  “So I named you after him. And Cashien was right. You killed that heartless bastard. I always believed that you’d make it back and take what was rightfully yours.”

  “But I don’t want it.” Kascien’s voice was sharp. Vik blinked, confused, and Kascien shook his head. “I don’t want to rule anyone. This isn’t my place. It’s never been my place. God…” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “I’ve been a slave for as long as I can remember, Vik. I don’t want to rule these people. I’m not a Mage, not really.”

  “Kascien…”

  “The Magi need a pure leader. A leader who will do them right. Someone who won’t keep slaves just for the hell of it. Someone who won’t create monsters in their evil laboratory. And I think you can do it. A hell of a lot better than I ever could.”

  Vik just stared at him.

  Kascien forged on. “You know these people; they trust you, they’ll follow you. And you’re not corrupt. You saved my life. You gave me my life back. I don’t belong here, but you do. Vik… Father.” The word tasted foreign on his tongue, but somehow right. “I want you to take my place, as Sovereign. King of the Magi.”

  Vik was silent for a moment, his head bowed, before he met Kascien’s gaze. His dark green eyes were soft, but vivid. Excited. Nervous. “But where will you go?”

  Kascien smiled and squeezed Wylde’s hand, lifting it up. “Not very far at all.”

  And the shy grin that Wylde shot straight to his heart told him he’d made the right choice.

  ***

  The time went by quickly, days blurring together, until Wylde stood at Kascien’s side as he said his farewells to his newfound family. She pulled back, breathing in the humid summer air as it made her hair dance around her chin in curls. She was glad to have her hair back. After Kascien had coaxed her into one of those healing tanks to recoup, both mentally and physically, it had grown back like wildfire.

  Romas, as usual, was stoic and ever watchful as Vik and Kascien said their goodbyes. If he felt anything for his nephew, he didn’t show it, but then again, Wylde was guessing he didn’t show much emotion at all. Still, he seemed fairly content, his brother’s happiness enough for the both of them.

  “Thank you…for everything,” Vik said, wrapping his long arms around Kascien in an awkward, father-son hug. Kascien patted his back as his dad released him. “Just promise me you’ll be careful, alright?”

  Kascien laughed and held up a row of clawed fingertips. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be the best damned Wyvern you’ve ever seen. Cya, pop.” The nickname was nonchalant, but as he turned away, Wylde saw the emotion gleaming in his eyes. It glittered like unshed tears.

  He reached out his hand to her, palm up. Wylde smiled and slid her hand into his. “Oh wait, there’s one more thing I need to do. Vik, could I borrow a piece of Portal chalk? I’ll bring it right back.”

  Vik grinned and pulled out a little black box. Inside laid a slender piece of pristine chalk, never been used, as white as the halls of the Esperidion. “Consider this a gift. Use it well. And don’t be shy, Kascien. Come back and visit us sometime. For as long as I reign, you’re always welcome.”

  Wylde smiled at the look of peace that fled across Kascien’s face. Vik’s first rule as king was to release all slaves, and his second was to declare peace between dragonkind and the Magi. It was a huge weight lifted off her shoulders, though it meant she would have to be the messenger to take the news back to her father, only to leave again.

  She wasn’t princess of the Kiir’vanan anymore. She was just Wylde Debraux, maybe someday even Wylde Harper, Wyvern of the Jiria. And she was happy with that. She wrapped an arm around Kascien as he thanked his father once more, then led her towards the building they’d just come out of. With a secretive smile, he drew a door on side of the brick and the Portal buzzed to life.

  He only uttered two words and then they were deposited into a large building, sterling cages adhered to the walls, shining like the blades on their belts. Wylde gasped at the beauty of the drakehounds. Mutants, yes, but they were glorious, a perfect blend of hound and dragon. They were big beasts with sleek coats and a sheen of scales. Horns jutted from their skulls, each one different, and they let loose bays to the sky as they realized there were intruders in their Kennel.

  “Hey guys.” Kascien’s voice was soft, his eyes darting to Wylde. If anything else, they screamed louder. She focused on the hounds, calming them with her mind, reaching out to each one. Slowly, they closed their gaping maws, silence filling the Kennel besides the click-click of their claws on cement.

  “I told you we’d rescue them.” He lifted up a little sheet tacked to the front of one cage and snorted. In big, bold letters, it said ‘Experiment 0045: Failure. Terminate.’ “And just in time.”

  “Thank you, Kass. It means a lot.”

  “Where should we take them?”

  “They might make wonderful guardians.”
>
  “I was thinking… Could we keep one as a pet, Wylde? Pretty please?” His grin was boyishly handsome as he pointed to the farthest cage, to a couple of gangly puppies with soft brown eyes and wagging tails. Wylde was pretty sure her heart melted a little bit.

  “I’ll think about it,” she said around a grin, though the look on Kascien’s face told her that he knew there wouldn’t be much thinking being done. “Let them out. Let’s take them home with us.”

  Kascien nodded sharply and pulled a key from the wall, swinging it by its lanyard. The drakehounds’ eyes snapped to him, regarding him curiousl as he unlocked each door, one by one, and swung them open. The hounds flattened their ears with grumbles and growls, retreating to the backs of their cells.

  “It’s okay, guys. You’re free.”

  “Hey.” Wylde reached out again, her mind brushing against theirs. “Free. No more pain. I’ll take care of you.” The puppies wasted no time; they bounded out of their cage with yips, circling around Wylde’s feet. Kascien bent down to scratch their ears and they ate it up.

  She urged the older drakehounds on and they slowly padded out of their kennels. By the time she had touched each of their spirits, their souls were connected with hers and their unease had dissolved into wagging tails and pricked ears.

  Wylde looked at Kascien. “Let’s go home.”

  He sketched out a Portal to the Jirian camp. Wylde shot him a grin and burst through, calling to the hounds. She heard their excited barks echo into nothingness, and then burst through to the other side. She found herself standing atop a red dune, the hounds sniffing along her heels. Curious, but not afraid. They’d probably never seen sand before. “This is where you belong, guys. Home.”

  “Princess?”

  Wylde’s head snapped up at the familiar voice. The hounds scattered with barks as a group of people rushed towards her. One of the Kiir’vanan Guardians, Kleine, was being held by Mackie and Yuri, whose blades were out and ready. Alarm spiked through her. “What’s going on?”

  “Oh, Wylde, thank the Goddess. It was a massacre, princess. So many people have died and—” Kleine’s words came out a jumbled mess and she raised a hand to stop him.

  “Slow down. What happened?”

  The man glanced between the rogues and then told her of the attack on Haven. That monstrous Wyvern beasts and spiked black hounds had taken the entire village by storm, brutal and hungry for death. He said that the Guardians managed to destroy the beasts, but many Wyverns were dead and more were wounded. “It was a bloodbath.”

  Wylde dropped her head with a silent prayer for the people lost.

  “I’m sorry to tell you this, Princess, but…Havoc is dead.”

  She’d expected pain at the reality, but only felt numbness creeping up her arms. He’d been her friend, her confidant, but in the end…he’d betrayed them. He deserved what he got. She shook her head. “Who else?” She barely managed the words, her throat tight.

  Kleine’s gaze darkened. He bowed his head. “Your father didn’t make it. I’m sorry. He was a good man, a proud king.”

  She couldn’t help the air that seeped between her lips in a gasp, her fingers covering her mouth for a moment. Her father couldn’t die. He was fearless, unstoppable. The backbone of the Kiir’vanan. But also fueled by anger and pain and loss. She thought of her mother, dying giving birth to her little brother, and the way her father had changed. Maybe this was for the better...

  A single tear slid down her cheek, her body clenched tight.

  Kleine took a breath, then met her eyes. His voice was soft. “The throne is unclaimed. People are in a panic. You must come back… Your people need their queen.”

  A jolt coursed through Wylde. She glanced back to Kascien, unable to even start to put words together. How could she reply to that? She couldn’t go back…could she? Not after everything that’d happened.

  Kascien placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, his warmth billowing into her, giving her energy. She could taste his sugar cane power on her lips. She took a shaky breath, and then another, until it trembled no more. She looked at him, imploring.

  He smiled such a sweet smile and her heart skipped a beat. “Do what you have to do, Wylde. You have to follow your heart. I’ll be with you, no matter what you decide.” He leaned in and kissed the side of her temple and she felt another tear burst free as she sagged against him. He was truly her rock. “I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth.”

  “I have to go back,” she whispered, and Kascien nodded. “My people need me.”

  She straightened up, pulling her shoulders back as she turned to Kleine. “Kleine Mercer, you are my witness. My first command as queen is to unban the Jirian rogues from the Nest. They are our people, even if they’ve done wrong in the past.”

  Yuri’s eyes widened and even Mackie’s ever-present scowl faded into an ‘o’ of shock.

  Wylde looked at Yuri. “But it’s up to you. You’re welcome back to the Nest, to be part of the Kiir’vanan once more. This time, fairly. You and the rest of your clan.”

  Yuri smiled, paused, and slowly shook her head. “I’m not sure on that one, princess. I kind of like being my own woman, queen of the rogues and all that comes with it.”

  “That’s fine. Take your time. The door will always be open.”

  “Thank you, Wylde. You’ll be the best queen the Kiir’vanan have had in a long time. Maybe even better than your mother.” With that, she slid her sword into its scabbard and backed up a step. Then she bent low at the waist in a bow. Mackie quickly followed suit and it left Wylde with tears in her eyes.

  Kascien’s gentle tug on her wrist brought her back around. She looked up at him, into those moss green eyes, a little darker now with his magic swirling through them, but still beautiful. Still Kascien. She swallowed. “Are you sure, Kass? I know you don’t want to rule, but…if I become queen of the Kiir’vanan, I’ll someday need a king.”

  “When that day comes, Wylde Debraux, I’ll be ready.” Kascien shot her a smoldering grin, then pulled her to him. She wrapped both arms around his neck, her fingers twining through his hair, and their lips crushed together. It was like their first kiss, all over again, and it turned her legs to jelly.

  He broke away, breathless. “God, I love you.”

  She was grinning so wide, she was afraid her face would crack. She caught Yuri’s smirk out of the corner of her eye and offered the woman the bird. Then, lacing her fingers through Kascien’s: “I love you, too. You ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.” He pretended to faint and she swatted him across the butt, then took three huge steps and leapt into the sky. Her wings spread willingly and as she rose higher with each flap, she let loose a shrill for the entire world to hear.

  Queen of the Kiir’vanan.

  Could she do this? Could she be what her people needed and still be herself?

  As Kascien shrieked in reply, it snuffed out her worries like setting fire to the rain. He would help her. He would be there for her, every step of the way. With Kascien at her side, her heart swelled to the bursting point. She shot him a playful look, swiping her wing against his and his returning smile was jubilant, carefree.

  She had the feeling that they would be just fine.

  The End

  About The Author

  Kodilynn Calhoun is a 25-year-old gal from Indiana. She’s been writing seriously for over 12 years; her first real novel was a 300-page fantasy monster with little plot and plenty of randomosity. Today, she’s mostly a writer of YA paranormals and is a sucker for a good love story and the fantastic: werewolves, shifters, incubi, and gargoyles? You name it, she probably writes it (and hopes you like it)! You can follow her on Twitter (@kodilynncalhoun), Facebook, or find her online at http://kodilynncalhoun.com

  Also By Kodilynn Calhoun

  Linger

  Keeper of the Keys

  Christmas Angel

  Wolfsong (Otherside #1)

  Souljacker

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  Continue reading for excerpts of Kodilynn’s other works :)

  Excerpt: Wolfsong (Otherside Series #1)

  Chapter One

  I knew two things for certain: One, the girl with the mesmerizing eyes was staring at me again, and two, I would never have the balls to talk to her.

  Still, I couldn’t help but seek her out of the crowd of unruly high school students loitering around the front doors. She didn’t really stand out, not to me at least. She was cheerleader material—five-three with long, platinum blonde hair that danced in the wind around a heart shaped face. I happened to be a sucker for the sort of girl to get muddy playing football with the guys. This girl would probably freak out if she broke a nail.

  Then our eyes locked and it was all I could do to remember how to breathe, like all of the oxygen had been sucked from my lungs with one of those turkey basters. Wow. They were an angel’s eyes, blue as oceans, and I knew that one of these days, I’d have to talk to her.

  She stood on the curb, giving me an impish smile as she pulled down the hem of her yellow sundress. A smile that promised of things to come, whether I liked it or not, and my stomach twisted.