The Myatheira Chronicles: The Vor'shai: From the Ashes (Volume 1)

by Melissa Collins

  “Have you not moved at all since I left you last night?”

  The gods had heard her prayers. She thought to rise up to greet Kael, but the lack of blood flow through her legs would have made it impossible. It would make her look dedicated to her meditation at the very least. He need not be aware that her stillness at this point was owed to her physical inability to move rather than her iron will.

  She was thankful for the feeling of his hands lightly grabbing onto her arm, lifting her carefully to her feet. The uncomfortable tingling sensation pulsed through her legs at the blood slowly easing back into circulation. Please don’t let him make me walk. Just one more minute…

  “I regret to inform you that I have yet to have an opportunity to speak with Mikel. He still is not yet aware of your presence here in the house. I expect to find time to approach the matter this evening, however.” It was as she expected. But had a whole day really passed since he had led her down to this dreary place? It felt like only a few hours, though the stiffness of her limbs told her she’d lost more time than that. She must have fallen asleep while sitting up.

  Easing her toward the open cell door, he acted as a support for her unsteady legs, helping to keep her upright while she regained her strength. Apprehension set in at the thought of walking through that darkened hallway again. The only comfort she could offer herself was knowing that it was nothing more than a corridor leading to the light of the upper levels. It would prove nothing for her to lose her senses through it the way she had the night before. To do so again would only be a greater humiliation than she’d already exposed herself to.

  Kael paused inside the cellar door, hesitating to open it and relieve the heavy darkness surrounding them. Leyna fought internally to steady her mind. Her hands trembled, fidgeting at her sides to keep from reaching out and opening it herself. The familiar panic coursed through her, making her want to scream at the uncomfortable rush of adrenaline through her veins. It was thick, filling her lungs with tension until she could hardly breathe.

  The creak of the hinges was like a breath of fresh air to her senses. She was free. The smell of food filled her nostrils, overpowering the stench of mold and dirt which had settled over her senses throughout the night. It brought with it the sharp, stabbing pangs of hunger in her stomach, reminding her that she had consumed nothing since the evening before Gislan and Kael arrived to take her away. There hadn’t been enough time to worry about food that morning when they came… and nothing was provided to any of the slaves held captive in the cellar.

  Her body felt weak from the lack of nutrients in her system, but it was something which she could use to her advantage. The trembling in her hands would give the appearance of frailty and hesitance that was necessary to keep up her act in front of Mikel. She didn’t know what to expect from him, but from what she’d heard, he was not a man to be trifled with. He would be able to see through her ruse if she did not veil it properly.

  “If I could have your attention please!”

  There was no denying the sound of Gislan’s voice rising above the din of conversation reaching Leyna’s ears from near the foyer. They were drawing closer to the sound. With every step, the words being spoken through the idle chatter started to come more clearly, forming sentences that made sense in language, but not in the subjects of which were spoken. At the announcement of Gislan, they fell to a hushed tone, trailing off into silence as Leyna and Kael reached the end of the hall.

  The foyer was immaculately decorated for the affair with candles and flowers arranged all throughout the spacious area. The room was filled with unfamiliar faces dressed in their best suits and gowns, holding goblets of what might be wine in their hands, their necks craning and their eyes focused on Gislan’s confident figure, creating a space around her in the middle of the floor. “I think now would be the perfect time for me to present my gift to my dear brother-in-law. I have hardly been able to contain myself from telling the secret, but I somehow managed to keep it in.”

  Laughter erupted around the room at her lighthearted remarks, rippling like a wave throughout the crowd and then gradually falling silent once again. A man at the front of the room caught Leyna’s attention from amongst the others. He was sitting at the center of a large table, his long black hair lying perfectly straight over his shoulders, the sharp point of his ears protruding from either side. His clothing was of fine make, the crimson cloth of his tunic edged in golden cord, the high lacy collar concealing almost all of his neck but a single line which could be seen through the opening at his throat. His lips were curled up in a jovial smile, his eyes so dark that she couldn’t decipher their color from where she was standing.

  A woman was seated at the man’s side. Her resemblance to Gislan was uncanny, though her hair was significantly longer and more stylish for that of a lady. It was currently pulled back away from her face to reveal her rounded ears, tiny strands dangling in elegant blonde curls along the sides of her painted cheeks. Her eyes shared the familiar glow, radiating forth with the inner magic of the Vor’shai. Oksuva. That had been the name given to Gislan’s sister. If this woman was in fact the other Esai of the family, then it left the male to be none other than Mikel himself, watching Gislan’s performance with unveiled amusement.

  “Kael? Will you bring it forward, please? I cannot wait any longer.”

  Leyna’s heart leapt into her throat with its sudden pounding beat. That was her cue. The crowd was already separating to create a path for Kael, his eyes sweeping over the people calmly as he led her through to where Gislan was standing. Hushed murmurs passed through the onlookers, questioning who she was, and why she was there. Mikel was on his feet in a single fluid motion, nearly sending his chair toppling backward from the momentum of his body.

  The soft expression on Oksuva’s face vanished at the sight of Leyna standing there. Her gaze was like fire, narrowing her eyes disapprovingly toward her sister, making no effort to hide her irritation. Leyna thought she would speak out in protest of the gift, but instead she remained seated, her dainty mouth pursed tightly into a thin line across her petite face.

  “My wonderful sister, could this be what I think it is?” His voice was deep, carrying easily across the room from where he made his way around the table to reach where they were standing. Up close, Leyna could see that the dark color of his eyes filled more than the thin iris surrounding the pupil. The deep shade of black extended outward, fading into thinner bands of grey that grew gradually fainter until the corners of his eyes. She had never seen anything like it before. They radiated with an energy different from that of any Vor’shai she’d ever met, the eerie feeling of his gaze reminding her of the Ven’shal that had attacked her outside the tavern in Velorum.

  With a hard grip, he pulled Leyna away from Kael’s hands, spinning her around to look her over appraisingly. The whispers through the guests were growing more distinct, a few revealing a hint of distaste at the display while others reacted with approval at a Vor’shai being brought to the hands of this man. “What an interesting specimen you have uncovered with this one. I must say I would never have expected the market to provide one quite so…”

  “Pleasing to the eye?” Kael cut in, finishing the sentence for him. His tone lacked the pleasure that was so obvious in every rise and fall of Mikel’s voice.

  “Mm, yes, that would be one way of putting it.” Mikel’s eyes were the most disconcerting thing for Leyna to see. They slid over her body with a hungry gaze, peering at her in a manner that made her think he was seeing through the thin fabric of her dress. Lifting her arms uncomfortably, she wrapped them around her chest, averting her eyes modestly to the floor. Her fear of this man only added to the uneasiness she already felt. She could no longer hide her trembling hands, fidgeting nervously with the fabric of her dress.

  Grabbing Leyna harshly by the shoulders, Mikel turned her around to face the crowd, holding her in place in case she tried to run. “My friends and guests! Tonight my sister has brought me the best gi
ft I could have asked for.” A sharp impact of his foot connecting with the backs of her legs caused them to buckle, dropping her instantly to her knees in front of him, grimacing painfully. “Behold my proud enemy, kneeling before me, and before all of you!”

  Cheers could be heard from all over the room. They were nothing but a distant echo in the back of Leyna’s mind as Mikel clenched his fist tightly around her hair, yanking her head back with a hard snap to reveal her exposed neck to the crowd. “Such a pity, really,” he whispered into her ear, tracing his free hand along the line of her throat. “But this, my friends, will be the gift that keeps on giving.”

  Humiliation burned through her veins in a way she never knew it could. She was at the mercy of this man. Whatever he wanted to do, she was powerless to stop him, stripped of any weapon other than her hands, which even she knew would be no match for him in her weakened state. Before she could register what was happening, she felt Mikel’s hand press forward, the sight of the floor rising swiftly up to meet her face sending a jolt through her body before it could make contact. The pain was excruciating. Warm liquid poured over her lips from the strike, the coppery taste mingling with the gritty feeling of dirt in her mouth.

  It all happened so quickly, she had no time to think about the pain until after it was already there. The discomfort came at her from all over her head, making it impossible to focus on any one injury. Her nose throbbed from where it collided with the floor, and yet the constant sting of Mikel’s hand still entwined with her hair pulled her attention away. Through her pain, she could hear Kael’s voice speaking softly to Mikel, the words making no sense to her incoherent thoughts.

  “No scream? I’m almost impressed,” Mikel scoffed, releasing his grip on her head. “Either way, that brought me great satisfaction. Kael, you will take her down to the cellar so she will stop bleeding on my floor. We still have much to celebrate and I cannot have my guests getting their feet dirtied.”

  “Perhaps we should have a doctor see to her injuries…”

  “Why would we do that exactly, Kael?” Silence fell between the two men. Kael held Mikel’s gaze for only a moment before his eyes lowered to the ground in defeat, his arm wrapping around Leyna’s gently. “Take her to the cellar and then you are to return immediately. You will be at my side before dessert is served or I will have you thrown in your own cell.”

  The room around her was spinning, the faces in the crowd blurring into a mass of colors against their brightly decorated clothing. Blood still ran from her nose. She could feel it, soaking into the thin fabric of her white dress. Her legs wobbled with every step she took, trusting Kael to lead her, the pain too great for her to think clearly about how to respond. There was no way for her to react other than how she already had. As a slave, she couldn’t retaliate. She would have to swallow her pride and simply accept the beating. It hurt her to the core to think she would be subjecting herself to such treatment on a regular basis. She didn’t know how much of it she would be able to stand before her instincts got the better of her, pushing her into action against him, and ruining everything.

  In the whirl of motion, she somehow lost track of the time it took for them to pass through the crowd, hurrying down the hallway toward the heavy door leading to the horrible darkness of the cellar corridor. Her head was too distracted to focus on the fear. She felt her unsteadiness, knowing she would have fallen to her death at the foot of the stone steps had Kael not been there to hold her up, supporting the weight of her body in his arms. His strength was impressive, even through her unfocused thoughts.

  “I will be back to check on you.”

  They were in her cell. Had she blacked out before reaching the bottom of the stairs? She had no recollection of the final distance between them and her cage. The cellar floor was cold against her skin, the chill seeping through her dress easily. There wasn’t enough fabric to protect her from it. Not that she cared. Nothing mattered right now. All she could think about was the throbbing which pulsed through her entire face, her nose already swelling from the impact of the floor. It was hard to breathe. She suspected the bones had been broken somewhere along her face, but without a means of examining the wound, it was too difficult to determine exactly where the worst of the injury was.

  He was gone before his words registered in her mind with enough clarity for her to think of responding. For the best, she believed. She wasn’t up to entertaining him with her misery. Her despondency outweighed her desire to be near Kael, wanting only to be left alone in the cold cellar to think over what had become of her life. How had she gone from the arms of the Prince only a few short weeks ago – to the damp stone of a Ven’shal’s personal prison, starved and dehydrated, covered in her own blood?

  What was that sound coming from the stairs? Footsteps, light on their toes in an obvious attempt to mask their presence. Kael would have no reason for stealth in these halls. It had been made very clear to Leyna that he was closer to Mikel than she’d been led to believe through her conversation with Feolan and Thade. Could they possibly be unaware of Kael’s true position amongst these people? There was no way to know how frequently he provided his correspondence, or to what degree he divulged his information.

  The steps grew closer, pausing occasionally. Stopping in front of the cells? Someone was looking for something. Oh, gods, please let it be anyone but me. A hushed voice broke through the cell, whispering what sounded to be her true name before catching the mistake. “Eleni… I’m getting you out of here.”

  Zander? Great. She was hallucinating. Had the trauma to her head been that severe?

  “Can you move? The stairs aren’t wide enough for me to carry you, but if you are unable to –”

  “I am not leaving.” She didn’t care if he was real or not. To think of leaving now would be foolish, making her suffering worth nothing if she returned to Siscal empty-handed. No, she would be remaining there, whatever the cost. “Besides, no one would let us out the door, even if we did manage to find a way up those stairs.”

  “Please, Leyna.”

  “That is not my name.” Holding her head in her hands, she groaned under the effort it took to lift herself off the floor, sitting up to gaze around the cell with her unfocused eyes. The swelling was hindering her vision. It had begun to extend out across her cheeks and up to her lower lashes. The blow reached far along the bridge of her nose. She could only imagine how it must look.

  Through the liquid in her eyes, she could see a figure kneeling outside the bars of her cell. She wasn’t convinced that her mind was not playing tricks on her. In her pained and weakened state, it was possible for her subconscious to be creating these images for the sake of her own comfort. But the figure’s arm was reaching out to her, pleading for her to come closer. “When I agreed to bring you into this, I knew it would be dangerous, but I never would have allowed it if I knew you would be treated this harshly. I expected maybe a dirty room and a slap on the face here or there, but this? No, I won’t allow it to continue. And the Consul –”

  “Hush!” The effort it took to silence him caused a wave of dizziness to wash over her. Standing wouldn’t be an option for her, if she wished to move closer to the Zander figure. Her legs wouldn’t be able to support her own weight, and even if they could, the vertigo would have her on her back faster than she could think to steady herself against the bars.

  The pressure in her head was unbearable. It obscured her thoughts worse than the pain of the arrows during the war. Location of the injury had much to do with it. While the pain of the arrowheads and the burn of the poison had been distracting, it was nothing compared to a direct blow to the head, disorienting her from everything around.

  She pulled herself along the floor, feeling her fingers slip occasionally on her own blood which still covered her skin. Drips had fallen from her when Kael carried her in, creating small puddles on the stone. The figure’s hand was able to touch her shoulder. It felt real. It had to be real. How had Zander managed to find his way down to
her without being noticed? The joy she felt at the realization that his presence wasn’t a figment of her imagination made none of it important. What mattered was that he was here. A friend amongst her enemies, for even the short time he might be able to stay with her.

  “Oh, gods, Leyna.”

  His breathy voice revealed the shock he must be experiencing at the sight of her. She couldn’t focus her eyes on his features to know what his expression was, but the pain in his words was all it took to know it must be bad. Something was wiping against her chin and her mouth. A piece of smooth fabric. A handkerchief. Within moments it was drenched in her blood. She was amazed it was still running so freely. If it didn’t stop soon, she was likely to lose consciousness in her state of health.

  Finding his attempts futile, Zander gave up on the handkerchief, tucking it back into the pocket of his jacket. The rustle of fabric filled the air as he removed the jacket from his arms, reaching in to pull her gently against him through the bars. She was bleeding on him. He didn’t seem to mind. Her body flinched painfully at her nose bumping against his chest, sending a violent pain shooting through her head. Inhaling a sharp breath, she felt her body reflexively start to jerk away from him, his hands holding her gently in place. “Shh, it’s going to be alright. I am going to get you out of here. These locks won’t be that difficult to pick through.”

  “I will not allow you to do that,” she whispered, resisting the urge to shake her head for emphasis of her protest. “I am not going anywhere.”

  “The Consul ordered me to come here tonight to make sure that you were alright. I cannot in good conscience return to him and give him my assurances you are safe after what I just witnessed. Not only will I have to face the Consul’s questions for why I didn’t get you out of here, but I would have to face myself, and I couldn’t if I sat idly by.”