Relinquish: Book II of the Rising Trilogy

by Miles, Amy

  “And miss the chance to see Aloysius turn his rage on you? Not a chance. I’ve been waiting far too long for this moment.”

  I lash out at him, raking my nails across his face. He howls as thin red gashes appear and rears his hand back to strike.

  “Let her go,” a deep voice growls behind me.

  “Bastien!” I strain to see over my shoulder, but Drakon yanks me around, crossing his arm over my chest, pinning me tightly against him.

  “I tried to warn Aloysius about you two.” Drakon sneers. I feel something sharp jabbing into my side and realize he has pulled a knife on me, positioning it between my ribs. “The fool’s arrogance and lust has blinded him to the truth.”

  Bastien’s gaze narrows dangerously. “Illyria?”

  “She can’t do anything,” Drakon laughs. I gasp as the knife pierces through my shirt. A tiny droplet of blood seeps down my side. “If she does, Aloysius will know that she isn’t under his control and she doesn’t want that, now does she!”

  His hand tightens over my chest as he reads Bastien’s reaction. “Oh, yes. I know all about you two. Alesta may be a cunning girl but I’ve been playing this game far longer than she has.”

  “What have you done with her?” I jerk in his grasp, ignoring the stab of pain as the knife digs in deeper.

  “Nothing...yet.” He shifts to look at the hall behind him, inching us backwards. Despite the vast size of this building I am familiar with this part of the palace. He is taking us to the throne room.

  My gaze flickers to my right as I try to send a silent message to Bastien. He doesn’t nod, doesn’t show any reaction. I can’t tell if he understands.

  “So what now?” Bastien asks, following after us, his body positioned to attack when given the slightest chance.

  “Aloysius will decide what to do with her.” His breath smells off. There is a sickening, overwhelming aroma to it, as if he has been drinking something foul.

  I can see the double doors up ahead and begin to panic. The guard manning the door looks up. I can see his surprise and confusion. “Sir?”

  “Get the King!” Drakon grunts as I slam my heel into his shin, running it down to his foot. “Get him now!”

  “Bastien,” I call, but he is already on the move. We both know what will happen the instant Aloysius is within sight of me. We have to take Drakon down now.

  In a blur of black, Bastien leaps. I slam my head back into Drakon’s face, shattering his nose. His arm releases me and I fall to the floor just as Bastion lands beside me, his punch driving Drakon into the ground.

  A loud crack echoes around the hall. I turn and see Drakon’s eyes roll back. Blood begins to pool around his head as it rolls to the side. Bastien snatches the front of Drakon’s uniform and draws his arm back to strike again.

  “What’s the meaning of this?” a voice booms.

  I feel the cold sensation slip over my mind as I slump to the floor. I gasp as I clutch my side, feeling the reverberations of approaching footsteps. When I look up, I see Aloysius’ livid face hovering over Bastien. “You’ve killed him!”

  “Aloysius,” I call, reaching out to him. He pales as he rushes to my side, taking my hand in his. He turns it over and stares at the blood on my palm.

  “Darling, you’re hurt.” A growl rumbles in his chest as he pulls me into his arms and turns on Bastien. “Did you do this?”

  “No,” I whisper as I rest my head over his pounding heart. “Bastien saved me.”

  The afternoon has grown unseasonably cool. I wrap my arms about myself as I stare out over the palace grounds. The main gates opened nearly an hour ago. Streams of people arrive from the city below, each dressed in their best clothes. I can see children running and playing, their laughter like music on the air.

  I have lost count of their numbers as they pass out of sight and through the main doors of the palace. I sink down onto my bed, fighting back the tears that threaten to fall. I’m trying to be strong. I swipe at my eyes before I ruin my makeup.

  Alesta has done a wonderful job making me beautiful. As I look at myself in the mirror I almost smile. She made me look perfectly fierce.

  A knock sounds at my door. “I want to be alone.” There is a pause and then another knock. “Alesta, please.”

  “I am not Alesta.”

  I turn to look at the door, struggling to place the gentle voice. It sounds familiar somehow and yet I know that I have not heard it while staying in the palace. Lifting my skirts, I turn to face the door. “Come in.”

  When the woman enters I am struck by her beauty. Her skin is fair and flawless. Her golden hair is coiled about her face, trailing down her back. Slender shoulders dip into the curve of a beautiful scarlet dress that cinches at the waist and flares back out at the hip. Her delicate hands clasp before her. Violet eyes search my face after she closes the door behind her.

  “I’m afraid I’m not in the mood for visitors,” I say, rising slowly from the bed. My skirts are ridiculously large and heavy. The bust of my dress is tight, crushing my ribs together. I feel as if I will come popping out of it at any moment. My purple dress sparkles like diamonds woven into each strand. The rich color deepens as your eye trails from my chest to the floor.

  The woman takes a step forward. “I have Alesta to thank for allowing me to see you. I know you must be very busy so I won’t stay long.”

  I glance around my empty room and laugh. “Not really. I’m just waiting for the music to start.”

  Her responding laughter sounds like wind chimes, soothing and pleasant. “Your friend came to see my yesterday. They thought you might like to see me before…” she trails off as she lowers her gaze.

  I realize with a start that she is fumbling nervously with the beading along her skirts. “Alesta?”

  “No,” she smiles and looks up at me. I watch as she takes a deep breath and presses her shoulders back. “Kyan thought it only right that you have your...your mother with you on your wedding day.”

  My mouth gapes open as I take a step back. I swiftly appraise her again, searching for any sign of myself in her. Her nose is similar to mine and her lips are full, boasting a tiny dip in the middle that is identical to my own. I press my hand to my stomach as I realize our eyes are the exact same shade of violet.

  “Mother?” I whisper, needing to hear the word spoken aloud. “How did Kyan find you?”

  “Sariana actually found me. She has a way of knowing exactly what needs to be done.” Her smile is pure radiance as I stare at her, too numb to know exactly what I’m feeling. She looks expectantly at me and I realize how awkward this must be for her too.

  “I, uh…” I smooth my hair, needing something to do with my free hand, “I don’t even know your name.”

  “It’s Laeydria. Most people just call me Dria.”

  “Dria.” I roll her name over my tongue several times before I smile. “I think I prefer Laeydria.”

  She grins and I watch as her skirts sway from side to side, brushing along her calves. “So do I.”

  “And my father? Is he alive?”

  “Oh, yes.” She shuffles forward a few steps. I can tell she is wary of upsetting me, no doubt thinking that I would prefer my space for now. “Locan is here and waiting to meet you. Alesta was only able to sneak me in. You’ll be able to meet him after…” My smiles fades as she trails off. “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t easy for you.”

  I snort and wrap my hands about my waist. “There is little that I know about you and I have so many questions. Who am I? Why am I different? Do I have any brothers and sisters?”

  Laeydria laughs, holding up her hand. “That’s a lot of questions and I wish I had more time to answer them for you, but I can at least answer the first one.”

  I hold my breath as she steps forward and reaches for my hand. Her hands are soft as I allow her to pull my hand into her own. I don’t know what I was expecting when she touched me. A spark? A sense of familiarity?

  I feel nothing.

  Sh
e squeezes my hand as she smiles down at me. I realize even with my heels on she is still a couple of inches taller than me. “You are exactly who you are meant to be. I don’t know why you are special, only that you are. Your father and I are commoners. I’m a Healer and he is a Kinein. He can move matter with his mind.”

  “I can too,” I whisper. “Both actually.”

  Her smile grows fond. “I hear you have far more talents than that.”

  I nod, biting my lip. Is this how all of us will feel when we meet our real parents? Misplaced and yet mingled with an odd sense of longing? I can only hope all of us have parents as Laeydria seems to be.

  “I wish that we could have-” her head jerks around as the door opens and Alesta enters. She is a vision in a pale pink dress that shimmers with each step. Her hair flows down her back in silken waves. Her cheeks are nearly the same color as her lovely dress.

  “I’m afraid this will have to wait,” she says, looking at me with sympathy. “It’s time.”

  I have never been to a wedding before. Where I come from a simple vow is spoken before friends and family to bind you together. My parents spoke their vows when I was six. I don’t know why they waited so long. Everyone in our group knew they were meant for each other, both likeminded and of strong personality. They chose me as their daughter after the invasion, but sometimes I like to think that I helped bind them together.

  I can hear the din of murmurs on the other side of the doors leading into the throne room. A thousand or more people wait to catch their first glimpse of me. I feel as if I can’t breathe as I pace back and forth.

  Alesta watches silently beside me. From time to time she sends glares at the guards who stand outside the doors and they avert their gaze again.

  I’m lost to my own world as I pace. Time seems to slow as my hands begin to tremble. I don’t know if I can do this.

  The sound of approaching footsteps grasps my attention and I look up to see Bastien striding toward me. My breath catches at the sight of him in a fine coat of purple and silver. His pants are black and trimmed with silver, trailing down the outsides of both pant legs.

  “Wow,” Alesta whispers behind me, blushing as I turn to look at her. “Sorry, but wow.”

  I nod in silent agreement. “Can you give us a moment?”

  She hesitates, glancing back at the closed doors. “Be quick. Use the side room.”

  I grab Bastien by the arm and drag him through the open door. The curtains are drawn across the windows, dimming the sunlight that fights to stream in. I push on the door, my heels slipping on the slick floor.

  “What are you thinking?” He hisses over my shoulder as he reaches to help me push the heavy door closed. “This is hardly the proper behavior of a woman madly in love with her soon-to-be-husband.”

  “I don’t care.” I turn under his arm and rise to crush my lips against his, my hands tugging urgently on his coat. His eyes widen in surprise and for a moment seems unsure of what to do. “Kiss me, you idiot.”

  With a groan, he gives in, pressing the length of his body against mine. The doorknob jabs into my spine. My hands are everywhere and nowhere at the same time. The feel of the velvety coat under my fingers is wrong but as his lips trail down my neck, pausing at the hollow to place a fiery kiss, I can’t bring myself to care. I arch up into him as he grips my waist, needing to be closer.

  My breath comes out in pants as I weave my hands through his short hair, realizing he has spiked it with some sort of gel that crunches when touched. He groans as I press up into him. His lips dance dangerously close to the plunging neckline of my dress.

  I feel flushed, my heart pounding wildly in my chest. “Don’t stop,” I whisper, urging him on. He smiles against my sensitive skin as he places soft kisses just along the top of my chest. My leg curls around the back of his, forcing him to lean into me.

  A loud knock at the door startles me. I cry out as Bastien lurches back and I lose my balance. “Illyria, the music is starting,” Alesta calls through the door.

  “Crap.” Bastien reaches out to steady me against the wall before wrenching open the door and nearly sends Alesta tumbling into the room. “I have to go.”

  I watch in disbelief as Bastien rushes away, smoothing his hair and straightening his jacket. He quickly disappears around the corner. “Are you alright?” Alesta asks, reaching out to grab onto me before I falter.

  I press my hand against my lips, feeling how swollen they are from his touch. “He didn’t even say goodbye.”

  “Perhaps he couldn’t.” Alesta’s smile is soft with compassion. “I’m sorry, but you must take your place or the King will suspect.”

  Nodding absently, I allow her to walk me out of the room and toward the set of double doors that lead into the throne room. She does her best to straighten the hairs that have fallen free from my clips, but I hardly notice as the doors swing inward and I am struck with the overwhelming scent of flowers.

  The high ceilinged room is draped in flowers of all colors. Some bold with wide petals and large drooping leaves, others are smaller but softer in hue. I stare in wonder at the cascade of color all around.

  Alesta did an amazing job.

  I reach back and take her hand. “At least it’s stunning.”

  She grins as she places an all-white bouquet in my hands. Aloysius felt it only fitting since I had so graciously agreed to the purple wedding dress.

  I am drawn forward by the sound of music. The aisle before me seems to flow in endless rows of smiling faces. I can see beautiful hats with feathered plumes that stretch nearly two feet overhead and men dressed in fine silk suits who dip low as I pass.

  The sounds of my shoes against the marble floor echoes in my ears, although I vaguely realize that it would be impossible to hear over the music. I keep my chin high and my shoulders back as I walk down the aisle.

  Nearly halfway I realize that my knees have begun to quake and I’m dangerously close to collapsing. My stomach roils and a sheen of sweat beads along my brow. A man steps into the aisle, tall and thin and bearing a kind smile. “May I?”

  I blink, surprised by his offered arm. Movement behind him captures my attention as I see my mother in the pew, wiping tears from her eyes.

  “Illyria,” the man whispers as I allow him to take my arm. That one word, my name spoken on his lips tells me all I need to know. My father is walking me down the aisle.

  I grip his arm tightly in gratitude. He leads me with grace and poise, never faltering in his steps. Looking forward I can see a deep purple runner has been placed over the steps leading up to the altar.

  As we reach the final row of spectators, I get a wide-angle view. Aloysius stands regally beside an elderly man, whose graying beard stretches nearly to his knees. He is draped all in white and a great jeweled necklace-like ornament dangles from shoulder to shoulder.

  I feel the cold wash over me, but just before it takes over completely my gaze shifts onto the person standing just behind my future husband. My steps falter.

  He has chosen Bastien to be his best man.

  Twenty-Three

  I stare out of the window, feeling alone as mists crawl down from the mountains, highlighted by the setting of the sun. The ring on my finger and the crown upon my head feel like a heavy burden.

  I’m married.

  For a year, I have feared this moment. It is identical to my dreams, even to the last detail. I’ve never been in Aloysius’s room before, but I recognize it as if it were my own.

  My wedding dress drapes across the chair that sits before a tall, ornate-looking mirror. It wouldn’t surprise me if Aloysius spends a lot of time primping in front of it as his servants dress him each morning.

  I turn to look at myself in its reflective surface. My hair is still beautifully woven into a long braid, the strands glittering with jewels that can hardly compare to those nestled in the crown that perches atop my head. It was handcrafted for me, made of the finest metals mined from this land.

  My lip
s are pale rose, glossed and full. The black shadow spread across my eyelids makes my violet eyes seem to glow. My skin is flushed, whether from heat or turmoil I can’t tell. The dress that was chosen as my wedding nightgown is hardly more than a slip of sheer fabric. It falls across the top of my bared thigh and laces down the front. Tiny straps are the only thing giving me a hint of modesty.

  Thank God I didn’t have to walk around the castle in this!

  I lift my gaze to stare about the room, curling my lip with disgust at its lavish decor. The walls are carpeted in fine silks, draping from ceiling to floor. A plush plum carpet cushions my bare feet as I step back from the mirror.

  The windows stretch up to the vaulted ceilings, their glass set in crisscrossing sections, each piece a different color. In the dimming light, they create a path before me of blues, reds, yellows, and oranges.

  The air is cool against my skin. Goose bumps rise along my arms as I pace. It won’t be long until he comes. I can still remember my internal screams as I heard myself speak the vows that bound me to him. Just beyond him I could see the effort that it took Bastien not to leap forward and strike Aloysius down right then and there, but somehow I managed to shake my head.

  I remember his eyes widening in surprise and I knew I’d somehow broke through Aloysius’s control. It was only for a moment, but it was something. Something I’ve only dreamed was possible. Maybe I really can learn to shut Aloysius from my mind.

  A door opens and closes behind me and I take a breath, preparing myself for what I know will come after. The instant Aloysius steps into sight, I feel the haze fall over my mind and a smile curves my lips.

  “My king.” I dip low in greeting as he approaches. I notice he has already removed his shoes as I lower my gaze.

  He places a hand upon my arm and lifts me up. His smile is broad as he pulls me to him. “You’re my wife now, dearest. There will be no more bowing.”

  I smile hesitantly as he slides his arm around me and pulls me so close I can feel the buttons of his suit jacket digging into my stomach. “Our guests?”