Blood Oath

by Raye Wagner

  Had Tyr betrayed what lay between us to be free of whatever tethered him here?

  Or had Ty betrayed our friendship to secure his release from the dungeons at last?

  Or was it possible one of Cal’s force was a traitor? Maybe. That would be equally despairing but less heartbreaking for me.

  “Ty?” I called out.

  He wasn’t here. He wouldn’t have listened from afar as I screamed and pounded the ground until I bled. Why wasn’t he here?

  I sank to the mattress and remembered all the times Ty had been gone in the past, disappearing and reappearing to no routine. “Jotun comes for me fortnightly,” he’d said, but was that true? I had no idea, but my head told me it couldn’t be. My mind scrambled for more details. He’d had such in-depth knowledge about the castle, the Druman, Irrik’s oath.

  Another possibility came to me, one I hadn’t contemplated since the first time Ty spoke to me.

  Was Ty planted here to get information from me?

  I dug my palms into my eyes. I’d fallen for it. He’d mentioned Cal, and I’d tripped over my feet in my haste to tell him everything. I’d ruined my own chances of escape. Tyr was probably being tortured as I sat here in this decaying prison. Fresh tears leaked from my eyes. Tyr, I’m so sorry. I hoped he’d gotten away. How could I have been so stupid?

  I killed those people.

  Whether through my selfishness or through my idiocy.

  I killed them.

  The door creaked open down the hall, but I didn’t budge. I stared at the far wall as shocked numbness settled over me. Madeline had told me to find my corner of strength. But the corner I found early on, the corner full of my people who gave me strength to fight . . .

  That corner was gone. I couldn’t feel it anymore.

  “You’ve been summoned before the king,” Irrik said. His voice was devoid of emotion, but his dark eyes were haunted.

  I stood mechanically and moved to the front of the cell. Lord Irrik pushed open the door and let me through. I blinked to break our shared gaze and began walking down the hall.

  He’d been beaten. The king’s Drae. His face was still mottled with bruises, and he was limping. It had to have taken a force of epic proportions to inflict so much damage on him. I knew the rebels didn’t have a chance to get to him, so the king was the culprit. Why? What had Irrik done afterward?

  “How long was I out?” I asked in a strange, faraway voice. I told myself it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. I could see the broken girl, and I wanted her to have relief at last.

  His reply was hoarse, “Three days.”

  As I shuffled after him, I said nothing more, and neither did he. We walked all the way to the throne room in silence, up the stairs, past the two lines of guards which I now knew were Druman, through the foyer, and to the double doors.

  I couldn’t look at Irrik. I couldn’t look at anyone. But most especially, I could not look at myself.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Irrik open his mouth several times, and I wondered what he was struggling to say. Was it an apology for what he’d been made to do? Or was it a warning of what was ahead?

  I reminded myself I didn’t care. I didn’t want his help, and I didn’t deserve any mercy. I placed both hands on the gilded doors but paused when the Drae wrapped his long fingers around my wrist.

  Khosana, his voice echoed in my mind, heavy with pain, I am so sorry. Please, forgive me.

  I peered into his inky eyes, glimpsing the dead look in my eyes in their reflection. He should feel guilty for killing all those people, just as I did. Not replying, I pushed the throne room doors open and walked in.

  I passed the table laden with food, and its smell didn’t stir my hunger. The rows of guards in the room registered but didn’t raise any fear. My hands and face were numb, and my ears buzzed. This game of lies and pain had finally destroyed me.

  “Phaetyn,” the king greeted in a cheerful voice. “Thank you for coming.”

  Thank you for serving up the rebels on a platter? I didn’t bow when I reached him, just stared at the wall behind the throne without emotion, waiting for him to lead me into the next horror.

  “It has been a week of revelations for my kingdom. But I am happy with the result thus far.” He tapped a ringed finger on the arm of his gaudy throne. “Thus far,” he repeated. “All that remains is to find the rebel leader and end his pathetic uprising once and for all.”

  His words startled me. They haven’t found Cal?

  “Of course, now that we know where to find Dyter, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

  My stomach roiled.

  “You look quite defeated,” the king crowed, clapping his hands. “After hearing of the little escape plan you’d arranged, I was ready to have Jotun drain you of blood. Then I came to see how I could use your plan to my advantage. Of course, Jotun still hasn’t awoken after the injury you inflicted upon him. If not for his human-half, he would be dead, did you know? Your phaeytyn blood killed his Drae side.” He surveyed me anew. “You have proven to be more resourceful than I ever anticipated, and you have concealed far more than I could have believed.” His eyes softened into a mocking expression. “But not everyone is as resourceful as you, dear girl. Not everyone feels the same loyalty to their peasant kin.” He lifted two fingers. “Bring in the boy.”

  So he would tell me, would he? He’d reveal the person who had betrayed us all by revealing Dyter’s location. He’d destroy the last traces of me by parading Ty or Tyr in front of me. He’d crush my last sliver of love.

  I couldn’t handle it. I wanted to go on believing Ty had been there for me, and Tyr had gotten free and was working to save me still, not willing to stop until I was safe. I didn’t want to know.

  But it had to be one of them.

  The doors were pushed open behind me, and I heard twin sets of marching footsteps, accompanied by grunts of pain. The person was thrown onto his knees in front of the king and the black hood ripped off of his head.

  My chest tightened, and I swayed on my feet. My heart thudded painfully.

  “Ryn,” he said, spotting me. He wobbled, trembling and shaking as blood oozed from his torn lip, his face a mottled mess of bruises and battered skin. What had they done to him?

  What had they done to Arnik?

  I lifted my eyes to the king’s.

  A cruel smile danced across his lips. He held a ringed finger just underneath it on one side. “Not who you were expecting, dear Phaetyn?”

  Arnik groaned, and one of the Druman guards kicked him savagely to the ground.

  The king stood and sauntered from the dais, radiating triumph. He glanced toward Arnik then faced me. “Your friend has been most accommodating,” he said. “We have a number of locations and names that we didn’t before. But he doesn’t seem to know where the mysterious Cal is.”

  “I don’t know where he is,” Arnik mumbled, mindlessly, as blood dripped from his chin to the ground.

  The king bent over and patted his cheek. “No, I don’t believe you do.” He straightened. “You’re quite useless to me now.” He stepped away from Arnik with a gleam in his eye. “Irrik. At your hand.”

  My knees shook. “No,” I whispered as Irrik moved toward Arnik. “No, Irrik! Please!”

  The king laughed. “Why are you pleading with him, Phaetyn? He answers to me and only me.”

  “I’ll do anything,” I screamed at the king.

  He laughed harder. “You already will, dear girl. You already will.”

  I sobbed, crying in fear for what I knew would come. Through my tears, I could see Arnik crying, too. I tried to reach him, but two Druman forced me to kneeling. Arnik lifted his head, turning his face toward me, his swollen eyes barely open. Could he even see me?

  “Did you ever wonder about us, Rynnie?” he asked, choking on my name. “Did you ever think of us married with children?” He shook as if he knew Lord Irrik was nearing him.

  I brushed away my tears, nodding. A long time ago, but I had thou
ght it many times back then.

  “Yes,” I said, knowing I was misleading him.

  “I thought about it all the time, Rynnie,” he whispered, voice breaking.

  The king’s Drae shifted one hand into a massive claw, black talons shining like a scythe.

  Arnik’s lip quivered. “I love—”

  29

  I screamed and closed my eyes as Arnik’s head slid from his body and hit the throne room floor with a wet thud.

  I heard his body slump to the stone, and I screamed again and again, the image of his head leaving his body seared behind my eyes.

  “Shut her up,” the king boomed.

  Lord Irrik was back with me, his now human hand over my mouth. The same hand that had killed Arnik. I kicked and twisted to free myself. Get that hand off me, I pleaded with him silently.

  He choked on a breath and removed his hand.

  I didn’t scream again, but I cried, my shoulders shaking as I grieved, unable to look back toward Arnik. Dead. Another person I loved was gone. I didn’t blame him for the information he’d divulged. I didn’t judge him for it. He’d been broken, and I’d come close enough more than once to know what that felt like.

  Nausea rose in my throat as the coppery smell of his blood permeated the air.

  I gagged, and Irrik pulled me farther away from Arnik.

  King Irdelron returned to his throne, white aketon splattered with Arnik’s blood. Reclining in the seat, he stretched his legs out and offered me a contemptuous smile. “Do you see?” he asked. “No one can deny me. No one will thwart me. If you don’t change your loyalties, Phaetyn, you will meet that same fate.”

  His threat broke through my mourning like he’d fired an arrow at my heart. I whirled on him, charging forward until Irrik grabbed me around the waist. He held me fast. Unable to break his hold, I leaned forward, screaming, “Why should I care? You’ve already taken away everything—”

  “Everything?” He snapped his question, rising in his throne to glower at me. “How wrong you are, girl. I’m just getting started! This Dyter person will be next. I’m told you once worked for him. Then the peasants’ precious Cal. I will find every single person you’ve ever thought you might have cared about, and I will slaughter them. I will not stop until your will is mine.”

  I stared at Irdelron until the horror inside me spread throughout. Before I’d been numb, but now, with my future laid before me, I broke. Racking sobs tore through my chest, and I made no attempt to stop them. The king already knew how much he’d hurt me. The only punishment I could return now was to make him hear. I sank to the floor and bowed to the power of my grief.

  “Take her away,” Irdelron barked. “I’m weary of her incessant cries.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust as he peered down at Arnik’s corpse. “And have someone clean up that mess.”

  My heart bled for my childhood friend. The deep recesses of my very soul had been torn and crushed. These were shattered wounds that my Phaetyn powers couldn’t heal, and I was sick with the depravity of this person. The pathetic excuse of a man who called himself king.

  Irrik tugged at my arm gently, but I couldn’t look at him. When he lifted me, I buried my face in his aketon and continued sobbing. The silence in the foyer did nothing to halt my harrowing pain.

  But when Irrik turned to go to his tower, something penetrated my cloud of despair. I sucked in a breath and shouted, “No.”

  Irrik’s tower was a gilded façade, shielding me from the malevolence of Irdelron’s power. It would be wrong to be in a soft bed or couch, to have food, warmth, or comfort. It would be wrong to delude myself that any of those things meant safety or approval. The dungeon offered no such mask. I saw through the faux freedom Irdelron had given me.

  “I want to go to my cell,” I murmured to the man who had killed hundreds of my people. To the man who’d ended Arnik’s life with the flick of one great talon.

  I wanted to loathe him, to hate the Drae with everything in me. I wanted to beat him and kill him for the death he’d caused and the blood he’d spilled. But the pain he radiated was mirrored by the haunted look in his dark eyes. I’d seen through the Drae’s fearsome mask. Underneath it was the wretchedness of his life in chains. A life that was now mine, too.

  We were both of us slaves.

  “Why do you look at me like that?” he whispered.

  I continued to study him, not sure how to answer.

  He pivoted, carrying me as though he held air, and led us down the stairwell toward the dungeon cells, his gaze shifting to me and then away.

  “Have you ever tried to resist?” I asked. He wouldn’t need me to clarify that I meant the king.

  He winced as if my question brought him fresh pain. Ducking his head, he said, “Every time I do, it is worse. Worse for me and for the victim of his brutality.”

  I furrowed my brow. How could that be? Dead was dead.

  “I know the limits of my oath,” he said after catching my frown. "The king can't make me kill anyone but those threatening his life or his rule.”

  Arnik and the rebels had been after both.

  “For traitors,” he continued. “There is a difference between a quick death and one that is drawn out and painful. When I have attempted to refuse him, the compulsion to act builds and builds until it seizes me and I cannot resist. I have nailed my feet to the floor to try to deny him.” He swallowed hard, his jaw tightening. “So, when he gives me a command, and I can choose to make it fast . . .” He turned his face so I couldn’t see, but his pulse feathered in his neck.

  I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t imagine living that way for decades, and still . . . existing. There would be no part of me left. None. I tightened my hold and closed my eyes, terrified to see his reaction. But I did not want to continue living this way, this sick tortured life. I would live for hundreds of years, just like Irrik. “Will you kill me, if I ask one day?”

  He was silent as we continued our descent.

  “No.” His chest rose and fell, and he said, “I’m sorry. I could never do that.”

  I nodded. I’d heard Irdelron command him to keep me alive. Even invoking the oath between them.

  We arrived at my cell, and tears pricked my eyes as I contemplated the vile eternity before me. A small spark of compassion welled inside, and still in his arms, I glanced at the Drae. “Let me heal you.”

  Surprise and then confusion flitted across his face before he scowled. “Why?”

  I rested my head on his chest, weary beyond measure, and let the steadiness of his heartbeat ground me. I was almost sure his recent injuries were because of me. Much of his behavior had always been a mystery, but I did know, looking back through our interactions, that he’d always decided on the lesser of two evils when he had a choice. Keeping my eyes closed, I told him the truth, “Because even though you are the one to inflict the pain, you are not the creator of it.” We were both captives to the king, and for the first time, I felt a connection, an understanding, with the feared Drae. “And because if I heal you, I’ll be defying him, just a little, in my own way.”

  Lord Irrik rested his cheek on top of my head and, to my surprise, he sighed. How very un-Irrik-y.

  “Do you know what you’re offering?” he asked.

  I tilted my head and met his gaze. “Yes.”

  He set me down and reached around to unlock my cell door. I didn’t want to go in. Not just yet.

  I raised my hand, resting it on his stubbled cheek, the roughness of his whiskers tickling my palm.

  He looked down, and the ghost of a smile crossed his lips. “You’re not going to make me lick your body, are you?”

  Two tears escaped my eyes, and two more tears chased after them. “I’m sorry I hated you so much. You aren’t responsible for his maliciousness.”

  I stretched onto my tiptoes and pulled his face to mine. I closed my eyes as our lips touched, and I willed him to not only feel better, but to be better. The salt from my tears was on our lips, and I urged my Phaetyn
energy to go to him, so his bruises would fade and the pain of his wounds would lessen. He sighed again and wrapped his arms around me, and I longed for his heart to be whole and his mind to be clear. He ran his fingers over my cheeks, and I wished for the scars in his heart to be gone and the ache in his soul to find peace.

  Except when his lips parted in front of mine, I forgot to will anything and a wave of emotion rushed over me. I lowered with a gasp.

  “Ryn,” he murmured, touching his forehead to mine, warm breath caressing my face. “What was that? I’ve . . . I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

  I stared at him, having no idea myself, but understanding on some deep level that we’d just shared something beautiful.

  His dark eyes were vibrant and pulsing with energy. He was focused on me in a gaze of what could only be called reverence. His skin was smooth and almost glowing with health. His arms held me close, protectively.

  “Do you feel better?” I asked breathlessly.

  He nodded, blinking as he clenched his fists and moved his head. “Yes, Khosana.”

  An ache in my chest lightened. “Good.”

  Lord Irrik took a deep breath, and grim determination took over. “Do you trust me?”

  His question caught me off guard, and I hesitated. Did I trust him? Not like I trusted Tyr. How could you fully trust someone who was controlled by another?

  “Never mind,” he said. “Just . . . If you get out of here, someday, make sure you go to the Zivost Forest. Go out through Zone Two into the mountains. Don’t stop until you reach the woods. Perhaps there are still Phaetyn there. They are powerful enough to withstand me if the king finds a way to send me after you through the oath. I . . . I won’t be able to hunt you there, and the Phaetyn will train you.”

  I smiled at him, a sad acknowledgment of my grim reality. “Thank you. That is kind of you, but we both know I won’t be leaving.”