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

by Melissa Collins

  Impatient, Oksuva brushed by Leyna and Kyros, sliding into the booth next to Kael. “Come now. We have much to discuss and we should not keep this man waiting, Eleni.”

  His piercing gaze remained settled on Leyna. He didn’t seem to notice Oksuva’s voice, coming again from the booth, her arms gesturing at Leyna to come sit down. “What is your name, Milady?” he asked, his tone hushed.

  “Eleni, sir,” she replied. His question didn’t make any sense. Oran had introduced her. She could still hear his voice speaking her name, ringing in her head. Not to mention the fact that Oksuva had only just called for her. She hated that his expression was so impossible to decipher.

  “I meant your surname,” he growled. “What family do you claim heritage to?”

  Another wave of panic came over her. In all her years under Mikel’s employ, no one had ever requested that information from her. She was a slave. The family name was unimportant to a person of such low social standing. “I have no family name, sir,” she lied, glancing nervously over to Oksuva. “I have been a slave since I was a little girl. Eleni is the only name I know.”

  “A slave?” Releasing his grip on her arm, Kyros turned away from Leyna, settling himself in the booth beside Gislan and Oran. Leyna stood there next to the table in a daze, unaware Kyros had moved until she felt the tug of Oksuva’s hand on the back of her skirt, urging her to sit. “Tell me, Lady Oksuva. Where did your husband purchase this slave from? I have never known a family to dress their trash in such finery.”

  “Eleni may be a slave in our house, but she has been one of my ladies for a few years now. She was originally a birthday gift from my dear sister to my husband. Is that not correct, Gislan?”

  Gislan leaned forward, resting her elbows casually on the table. “Biggest mistake I ever made,” she sneered. “Zander sold her to me. Said he stole her from some rich family on the trade routes of Tanispa. Used goods, so worthless if you ask me. I fail to see what he saw in her.”

  Blinking her eyes in surprise, Leyna gazed at Gislan. Her hostility was unexpected. They had always shared a friendly relationship, finding it entertaining to pass jokes between one another at Zander’s expense. Why she would suddenly speak with such harshness struck a chord in the back of Leyna’s mind. More than before, she was curious what had happened between Gislan and Zander in the carriage. Her behavior wasn’t making any sense.

  “Ah, the biting jealousy of women. I had almost forgotten what that was like,” Oran smirked. “Worry not, my dear Eleni. She is only bitter that you are more fair and youthful than she is. The Esai do not carry their age quite as well. No offense, Lady Oksuva.”

  “I think Oksuva, on the contrary, carries her age quite well. She does not look a day over twenty-five for a human,” Kael smiled.

  Leyna had to do a double take, caught off guard by Kael’s words. A compliment? Toward Oksuva, the half blood? Countless times he had ranted about her aging skin, pointing out the wrinkles which had begun to form around her mouth, the dark circles under her eyes. She was well over fifty, and while she looked younger in comparison to other humans of her age, she could not hide her climbing number of years.

  And Oksuva was positively glowing at his flattery. A pressure built up inside Leyna’s stomach, twisting and turning, like a boot striking her full on. She had to divert her eyes from the sight of the two of them. Kael’s arm was propped absently over the back of the seat, resting just behind Oksuva’s shoulders. She giggled flirtatiously. Leyna had never seen her behave in such a manner.

  It pained her to watch the two of them together. Images in her mind taunted her, picturing them together in Oksuva’s room. The man she was bound to. Of all the foolish things she’d done, their engagement was the worst. But how could she have known? She couldn’t. But she still could have insisted they wait. If he’d truly loved her, he would have honored her request.

  Lost in her thoughts, she couldn’t focus on what was being said around her. Oran was giving an explanation for their meeting. Small talk. Mikel’s name was brought up occasionally, someone’s arm reaching in front of her vision to point at Yasar where he was seated, apart from the group, laughter erupting around the table. Unaware of the joke, Leyna let a quiet chuckle mingle with the rest of them, not wanting to make it obvious that she wasn’t paying attention. Chills continued to plague her from the fever. It was a miracle no one said anything in regards to her constant shivering, beads of sweat occasionally forming around her brow, quickly wiped away by her trembling hands.

  From a distance, she heard the sound of a young woman’s voice. She was calling out something. A name. Leyna’s name. Her true name, not the false one she had been using for more than six years. It was so faint; she didn’t believe it to be real. A fever-induced hallucination. In the back of her mind, she knew it would be a mistake to seek out the source, on the chance that it wasn’t her imagination. The chances of someone knowing her at Malic’s was too great. If she responded, it would only draw suspicion. It came again, louder this time. Lifting her head, she stared across the table, suddenly aware of Kyros’s eyes watching her.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she strained her vision to see where the voice was coming from. To her surprise, she could make out the familiar figure of Zander crossing the floor to a young Mialan woman, her blonde hair swept up away from her face, tiny ringlets framing her high cheekbones. Her green eyes were filled with confusion at Zander’s approach, preventing her from getting any closer to Leyna’s table. A pit in her stomach added to the discomfort she was already feeling. It wasn’t possible. The girl looked like her little Reina, trapped in a woman’s body. But she would be a woman now. Nearly thirty years old.

  She followed the two with her eyes until Zander guided the girl into a crowd of people near the front of the tavern, disappearing from view. Her gaze lingered for a moment, waiting to see if they would return, disappointed by the absence of their faces amongst the jovial group of drinkers.

  Shifting her eyes back to the table, she flinched at Kyros’s gaze still upon her. There was something in the way he was looking at her which made her uneasy, beyond the usual discomfort she felt whenever a Ven’shal was so close to her. The corner of his mouth twitched, a secretive smirk only she could see. Breaking his gaze, she lowered her head, staring down at the table in front of her. Had he heard the name spoken? He would recognize it. She didn’t doubt that. If he drew the connection between the name and her appearance, everything she’d worked for would be undone instantly.

  “Eleni? Are you going to answer the man, or not?” Oksuva’s voice cut through Leyna’s thoughts, a wave of fear bubbling up inside her. They were talking to her? A lot of good she was doing gathering information by ignoring everyone around her.

  “I am sorry. My mind must have wandered,” she replied quietly, wiping away the sweat from her brow. “I did not hear the question.”

  Gislan sat up in her seat, motioning dismissively toward Leyna. “She’s just a slave. I wouldn’t worry about what she has to say. Couldn’t we just get back to business?”

  “Back to?” Kyros snorted. “We have yet to have a chance to begin. This night has been one distraction after another. I am starting to wonder if we should not reschedule for another time and place.”

  Sitting up straight in her seat, Oksuva’s eyes opened wide, frantic at the thought of missing out on her meeting. “That will not be necessary. We are already here, after all. Once we get a few glasses of wine around this table, our business will be impossible to distract us from any further. I have prepared an offer that would be worthwhile to both parties involved, if you will just hear me out.”

  How was she supposed to focus on this meeting, knowing that Reina might be there? Every inch of her body was tense, anxious to get out of that place so that she could have a free moment to think of what to do.

  “I am already to the understanding that you have had Oran arrange this meeting in hopes of my granting you an audience with my man. Is this accurate?” Snappin
g his fingers, Kyros motioned toward a waitress at the bar, signaling for her to bring them a bottle of wine without ever speaking a word out loud.

  “It could be. That all depends on if your man is who he is rumored to be. I cannot be going around making bargains with just anyone. I need to know up front who and what I am working with.”

  Kyros chuckled to himself. “Then perhaps you could tell me what you believe, and we can go from there.”

  “I am told the man I need to speak with goes by the name of Rohld,” Oksuva replied calmly. “He has proven very difficult to track down, but his name comes linked with yours.”

  Leyna could feel herself starting to hyperventilate. What had she been thinking, believing she could handle all of this while in her condition? The fever was worsening. She could feel the sweat starting to bead up around her forehead. Rohld. She recognized that name. It had been spoken to her the night she learned of her identity having been erased from existence. Sarayi Evantine was married to a man by the name of Damir Rohld.

  It couldn’t possibly be the same one. If Damir had been known to have ties with the Ven’shal, it was likely that other people in his family could have as well. There was more than one man in the world that bore the last name. Jumping to conclusions would be foolish of her, though she could still hear Thade’s warning in her head. Be wary if you hear that name spoken amongst those in Mikel’s company. Well, they weren’t in Mikel’s company, but she had given Thade her word that she would be careful. She needed to try and keep her wits about her long enough to determine what Oksuva possibly could want from this man, Rohld.

  “And what exactly do you feel you have to offer that would be worth his time? If you know anything about him, then you know he doesn’t just give his presence to any old wench that comes along.”

  Leyna felt an overwhelming desire to laugh, coming out of the blue at Kyros’s comment. Covering her mouth, she tried to hold it in, still fighting to catch her breath.

  “I think he holds a similar interest as my own to a man by the name of Arcastus,” Oksuva said quietly, her eyes searching the nearby area to make sure no one had overheard. “I assume this name requires no explanation to a man of your obvious intelligence.”

  “Flattery will get you everywhere, Milady,” Kyros smiled, ignoring the waitress bustling about the table, pouring the wine absently into the glasses situated in front of everyone present. “You have my interest, but I make no guarantees how long that will last. I suggest you speak quickly and state your point.”

  Taking a sip of the wine, Oksuva smiled sweetly at Kyros, her eyelashes fluttering demurely. “I have come into possession of an artifact of sorts that once belonged to the one and only Arcastus. Now, his ancient energies are difficult to manipulate or examine myself, given my less than adequate control, but from what my researchers have determined, this artifact contains remnants of his magic.”

  “And what good will this supposed artifact do my master?”

  “Look,” Oksuva stated flatly, all her playfulness draining away from her demeanor. “Those at this table aside, I have a severe hatred for the Vor’shai. I feel you can sympathize with me on that, at the very least. The last thing the Vor’shai want is for the memory of Arcastus to be reborn amongst the Ven’shal. Over the years, their number has been gradually increasing. By now, after the Queen stepped in to raise her military hand against the Namiren and the Sanarik during the last war, it is my belief that the Ven’shal could rally more support than before.”

  Kyros remained quiet, leaning his elbows on the table to prop his chin on his hands, listening intently to Oksuva’s words.

  “This artifact that I have found is believed to hold enough magic, when wielded by one of significant strength and knowledge, to activate the ritual Arcastus devised to restore life to the dead. Rohld is said to have uncovered clues which could lead to where Arcastus’s corpse has been sealed. Can you just imagine the strength our army could have if we had the legendary Arcastus amongst us? The older magic of the Vor’shai has been all but lost to the younger generations out of fear that another would fall and warp it the way Mescavis did when trying to revive his family. This would severely weaken them in a battle in which they would already be outnumbered and overpowered.”

  Leyna snatched up her glass, the scent of the wine reaching her nostrils as she lifted it to her lips. Tilting her head back, she let the thick liquid pour into her mouth, guzzling it down without heed to the bitterness of the taste. She disliked wine. But in this case, it was something to do, to drink, to distract her body from its failure at maintaining a steady breath. Her chest heaved wildly. She struggled to keep her quickened breaths quiet despite their rapidness, but she feared she wouldn’t be able to keep it under control for much longer.

  A war. So that was what Oksuva was plotting. But for how long? Had it been her plan from the start when she first involved herself with Mikel? What better way to secretly plot such a plan than using someone else to do your dirty work, searching for the people you need, arranging the meetings, putting himself in danger so that you remained squeaky clean if anyone were to catch wind of it. And if this Rohld was the man she’d been seeking all these years, it explained why she would have agreed to give Mikel his divorce. When she already had what she wanted, what good were his connections anymore?

  “You have convinced me that Rohld would be intrigued by your proposal, but what is in this for me?” Kyros asked. “What do you have to offer for my service of arranging this meeting for you? You know as well as I that I am under no obligation to do so.”

  “You can have anything of mine that you desire,” Oksuva smiled, the seductive sparkle returning to her eyes. “Simply name it, and it shall be yours without question.”

  As Leyna sat her empty wine glass back down on the table in front of her, she became suddenly aware of Kyros’s eyes on her, looking into her own appraisingly. Placing her hand over her chest, she forced a charming smile, hoping he didn’t notice the strain in her eyes.

  “That is a tempting offer. But I will need to think on it. One cannot rush into choosing a prize of this proportion,” he smirked. His eyes remained on Leyna. She shuddered to think what could be going on inside his mind.

  If he had recognized her… No. She wouldn’t think about that. Fear would only cloud her mind. She needed to keep focused on her goals; which would be easier if she could just get a single breath to ease her racing heart. Her hands grabbed at her bodice, failing to pull it away from her enough to grant her any reprieve. It was only made worse at the sight of Kael gently easing Oksuva in closer, her head leaning casually against his shoulder.

  “If you all will excuse me, I need to go to the ladies’ room,” she said, her voice more of an exhale than anything else. The corner of the table dug into her leg as she tried to stand up, fumbling awkwardly, finding the dizziness returning to her vision the way it had before they left that afternoon.

  Nerves. She was letting everything get under her skin. If she wasn’t careful, she would ruin her cover over an inability to get her thoughts straight.

  She could hear the others at her table whispering about her. They found her behavior strange. Blaming it on the fever. Good. That was exactly what she wanted them to think. It wasn’t entirely false. Rubbing her hand lightly over her forehead, she could feel the sweat on her fingers, sticky and wet. Excusing herself would, at the very least, grant her a chance to determine how to get Kyros alone. By now, he must be convinced she was insane, given her actions.

  Pushing through the door of the restroom, she immediately moved to the washbowl. The room was cleaner than she remembered it being when she’d been there last. Not that she would risk touching anything any more now than she would have back then. The clientele the tavern brought in wasn’t very promising in the way of cleanliness, regardless of the lack of visible grease and grime on the floor.

  Her mind was a mess, the thoughts dancing around without cohesion, her attempts to find her way through them met only by dea
d-ends. Fear gripped her at the possibility of Kyros having heard the name spoken by the girl in the tavern. But if he had, she expected him to react differently. More harshly. He’d been instructed to kill her all those years ago, so why would he now discover her identity and let her live without saying a word? Maybe she was reading into his expression too deeply. She was acting strangely. It was possible he was simply amused by her behavior.

  With big gulps, she tried to fill her lungs with air. It was useless, as long as her body was on edge. She needed to calm herself. Force her lungs to breathe evenly. She was exaggerating everything because of her illness. The world wasn’t going to end just because of one tiny mistake. Even if Kyros had heard the name, there were many possible resolutions. She was a clever girl. She would think of something.

  Closing her eyes, she tried to control her breathing, inhaling deeply through her nose, exhaling through her mouth. It was working. Her heart was slowing, the burning in her lungs that had lingered since she’d left the table finally fading away. Fumbling for the washbowl in front of her, she dipped her hand into the water, pressing her moistened fingers to her forehead to wipe away the sweat lining the edges of her hair. Not wanting to use the towel hanging from the wall, she lifted up the skirt of her dress, using her slip to dab away the moisture, examining her reflection in the mirror.

  It was still difficult to breathe. A pressure had built up around her lungs, pressing on them uncomfortably. But there was no time to think on the discomfort. She needed to get back to the table before anyone became suspicious. Or came looking for her.

  Shakily she moved through the door, grateful to find no one to be watching her. The closer she came to their table, she realized that Kyros was gone, his wine glass having been cleared away. Oksuva raised her brow curiously, a hint of irritation showing in her expression. “It is about time you came back. I am tired of this place. I want to go somewhere else to celebrate my success.”