Kissed by Death - Book three of the Trueborn Heirs Series

by Queen, Nyna

  And if Blayde hadn’t contacted him…

  A stray thought occurred to him and he focused on Blayde’s mind which was pulsing softly inside his own, slowly drifting away. *I thought you didn’t interfere with matters outside your borders.*

  He could almost feel Blayde’s galant shrug through the connection. *Oh, I’m merely relaying a message to a friend. I would hardly call that interfering, would you?*

  Despite his worry, the hint of a smile traveled across Darken’s lips. *Of course not. I still appreciate it.*

  *Thank me later, Forfeit,* Blayde replied with feverish urgency just as the connection started to break. *Hurry … Darken … key … breaking …*

  The words lashed Darken like a burning whip. His heart skipped a beat. The warning might have been cryptic to others, but not to him. The chill inside him solidified into a blazing hot fury. Alex!

  Before he knew it, he was sprinting along the deserted street, his feet pounding the asphalt, squeezing every last drop of speed out of his battle-tired legs. The town vanished behind him and trees flashed by on the left. A horrible feeling of déjà vu clamped him, choking him until he couldn’t see straight. Everything blurred behind a ragged, bloody veil.

  The key is breaking.

  Foolish, stubborn woman! What had she done now? He had left her behind so that she would be safe. Why couldn’t she stay out of trouble for one minute?

  He swerved from the road into the grove, vaulted over a log and skidded dangerously on the mossy forest floor. He didn’t slow.

  That a key wasn’t broken doesn’t mean it is unbreakable. I see death in your future, Darken. Blayde’s cryptic warnings. Warnings he hadn’t taken too seriously at the time. Now…

  They key is breaking.

  The clearing loomed before him. Gnarled trees covered in silver moss bent toward each other in the dusky light of dawn. He flung out his hand and the camouflage spell tore like wrapping paper, revealing his hover-cycle wedged between the roots of an ancient oak. Sheathing his bloody sword, Darken jumped onto its back and charged it. A moment later, the hover-cycle burst from the grove and careened onto the road, dangerously low above the asphalt, speeding in the direction of Lancaester, back toward Edalyne's location range.

  I’m coming, Alex!

  Darken clenched the handles, pushing every bit of his magic into fueling the hover-cycle’s speed. Great Mother, please, please don't let me be too late this time.

  In front of him, a crimson sun climbed above the horizon, casting bloody shadows over the land, while Blayde’s warning hovered above him like the glinting edge of a drawn sword.

  The key is breaking.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  THE cell door opened with a soft groan. Alex automatically tensed in anticipation of the cold shower of water that was usually the first thing to hit her when her torturer returned, but none came.

  Instead, she heard several different pairs of feet trot into the room behind each other. At least three people.

  Now, that was new. The novelty roused her enough from her pain-induced delirium that she managed to perk up her ears while feigning to be still unconscious.

  Low voices brushed against her consciousness, taking their sweet time to trickle through the layers of bloody mist fogging her mind. Alex had to strain to understand them and suspected she could only do so at all because her shaper senses were slowly reawakening due to the delayed water dose.

  “How is our guest?”

  Roukewood’s cultured voice. Alex’s jaw tightened.

  “Oh, she possesses quite the stubborn temper,” her torturer replied in his calm, obliging way, and Alex couldn’t help cringing in response to the sound of his voice, a small shiver infused with hatred and apprehension. “Not surprising for a shaper, though. They are a tough lot to crack.”

  “So are cockroaches,” Roukewood said dismissively. “But one has to pursue.”

  The torturer grunted in assent. “She keeps on insisting that Lord Dubois-Léclaire and his Forfeit brother are the only ones beside her who know about the enterprise, and I am inclined to believe her, milord. No one can suffer through that much pain and still muster the energy to lie convincingly.”

  Wrong, asshole! Alex’s mouth twitched into a small, malicious smile while she kept her head drooping low between her burning shoulders, still pretending to be unconscious.

  Thought he’d broken her, did he? Well, it would take more than what he got to break her. Torture broke a lot of people, but brutality had been part of Alex’s life since childhood, and she’d learned to suffer through a freaking lot.

  Oh, she had certainly done her best to convince Mr. Torture Master over there that he had managed to crush her spirit. Between screams and howls of pain that hadn’t been feigned at all, she had repeated again and again that she, Stephane and Darken were the only persons aware of the prison camp, the conspiracy, and the murders. To sweeten the bait, she’d even spilled some random information about Stephane’s career and private life filled with enough verifiable half-truths to give it some merit. Nothing suited to ruin his career but delicate enough to believe that she wasn’t in control over her wits any longer.

  Although every cycle of pain made it harder and harder to resist, she hadn’t once said the names of the others who knew at least part of the story: Edalyne, Max, Josy, Hector, Barthi, Blayde … even that snarly old bitch Heloise.

  If she was fated to die here in this dark, dirty hole of a cell, she’d at least make sure not to engulf others in the abyss.

  Roukewood said something else, but it was so low, Alex didn’t get it.

  A third man spoke, just as lowly. Alex’s entire body snapped to attention as if she’d been tasered. She knew that voice. No, impos—

  Feet scuffed the floor and icy water poured over her in a waterfall of pinpricks. Taken completely by surprise, Alex swallowed a mouthful of water before she knew what was happening, choked on it and then coughed and spat, rocked by spasms as she tried to get some air back into her lungs.

  Finally able to breathe again, Alex trembled in the frigid air, steam rising from her naked, mutilated skin.

  Roukewood walked around the chair—and he wasn’t alone.

  Alex’s lips twisted into the bloodless semblance of a sneer. So her ears hadn’t deceived her.

  “Well, well,” she drawled. “If that isn’t the snake biting its own tail. The little informant finally shows his face.” Her words slurred a bit due to her cragged, swollen lips, but they were distinct enough to be understood.

  Tyler’s pale, pointed face stared back at her in shock. “So it’s true!” His gaze traveled over her half-naked body, clearly searching for the signs of Alex’s true skin which she so desperately wished she were able to summon. “She really is… ?”

  He took a small step back and shook his head as though he couldn’t believe his eyes.

  Well, same here! Alex wouldn’t have been more shocked if it had been Edalyne or even Stephane himself who had stepped out of the shadows. She would have suspected anyone to be the informant, but seriously, Tyler? Tyler-I-can’t-tie-my-own-shoelaces-and-start-to-stutter-in-the-presence-of-other-adults-Tyler?

  Sure, she’d known he was a bit of the bad apple in the family’s fruit basket but betraying his own family to Roukewood? His brothers? The kids? It just seemed so … unthinkable.

  The initial surprise on Tyler’s face slowly shifted toward fury. “It appears I’m not the only one with a secret.”

  Beside him, Roukewood looked the epitome of smug. Oh, how he must have enjoyed it, being fed information about Stephane’s activities not just from inside his very own house, but from inside his very own family. If her hands had been free, Alex would have strangled Tyler on the spot. Since she didn’t have that luxury…

  “Your family knows what I am,” she snapped hoarsely. “But I doubt they have any idea what a traitorous little piece of shit you are.”

  Tyler’s pale face distorted with rage. “Shut your filthy mouth, you stu
pid shaper bitch! You have no idea what you are talking about!”

  “Don’t I?” Alex narrowed her eyes, her own fury making it difficult to produce clear words. “You sold out your family to him.” She pointed her chin at Roukewood. “You were the one who gave them all the compromising information.” Another thought occurred to her, and a burst of heated anger slashed through her chest. “You’re the reason Darken was blacklisted!”

  Sweet Jester, so much made sense now. The Master’s goons knowing when the kids were going to Helton Manor as they tried to abduct them, the intercepted calls via Stephane’s private vis-aural emitter, that they knew about Darken’s sword. The only thing that simply didn’t make any sense…

  “Why?” Alex just couldn’t wrap her head around it. “Why on earth would you betray them?”

  The little moron had everything: name, standing, money, a loving family—well, if one ignored the existence of Heloise—and he’d done his best to ruin it all. It simply didn’t add up.

  Tyler started pacing in front of her chair, his features taut with anger. “You’re honestly asking ‘why’?”

  “Of course, I’m asking! Your family loves you. Your brothers would burn the fucking world for you. I’m sure Darken would—”

  “Yes, Darken!” Tyler spat with an ugly expression on his thin face that erased any likeness to his brothers. “It’s always Darken. Darken, Darken, Darken… Never about anything else. Just bloody Saint Darken. ‘Have pity on the poor boy, he can’t help it.’,” he mimicked in a nasty voice. “‘It’s not his fault he was born that way.’ No matter what he does, everyone always makes excuses for Darken, while nobody ever makes any excuses for me. No leniency for the ‘normal’ boy, just criticism when something goes amiss!”

  Just wait a minute! “You’re not actually jealous of Darken, are you?” Alex stared at him, completely flabbergasted. “Do you even know what he had to give up—what he is suffering through—because of the caste he was born into?”

  “Yes, poor, poor Darken. Suffering so much,” Tyler scoffed. “He’s not the only one who’s had it hard, you know? He was born a bloody monster—a freaking mass murderer—and still I’m the one being treated like the bad seed of the family. Because of Darken, our family skidded from one scandal to the next, and since he had the prior claim on being a public embarrassment, I couldn’t get away with anything!” His lips pulled away from his teeth. “Because of Darken, my life has been hell!”

  Alex slowly shook her head in utter disgust. “Oh no, sugar, you made your life hell yourself.”

  “What do you know?” Tyler retorted madly.

  “Oh, don’t get me started, sugar.” Being treated like the dirty secret of the family? She could tell him stories that would curl his toenails.

  Tyler’s hands clenched into helpless fists at his sides. “You have no clue what I suffered through because of Darken!” Spittle flew from his lips. “Stephane always preferred him to me. I could never do anything to garner his approval. Darken could kill an infant and eat his bloody heart and Stephane would still be there and defend him from the world. But when I spill so much as a drop of coffee in public, I’m told to clean up my act and think about the family’s image.”

  “Poor dear, my heart bleeds for you.” Alex might have felt pity for him if he hadn’t been so incredibly pathetic.

  She bent forward as much as her chains would allow. “I’ll tell you a secret, sugar. Everybody has problems. Grow a pair and stop feeling so incredibly sorry for yourself!”

  Tyler took a threatening step toward her, fists raised, face a distorted grimace of fury. “You’re having a big mouth for someone in your position.”

  Guess what, my teeth are even bigger. Just come a little closer, and I’ll show you!

  Wild rage was ripping at the seams of Alex’s skin. If she had been able to shape, her true skin would have taken control by now.

  “So let’s get this straight, Tyler. You’re doing all this because you’ve been throwing yourself one giant big pity party?” This had to be a bad joke.

  “Shut up, bitch!” Tyler yelled, looking desperate. “All I wanted was for Stephane to finally fail at something, too. You don’t know how they were all raving about him, the perfect son, on his way to becoming the governor of the South. The greatest triumph of this family yet. But now he won’t!” A flicker of triumph lighted his eyes. “And when he doesn’t make it to governor, everybody will see that he’s not as perfect as they all think. Even Stephane Dubois-Léclaire the Great and Mighty is fallible. Maybe he will finally have a little more compassion for me when he knows how it feels.”

  He was pacing agitatedly in front of Alex's chair. “I organized it all so well. The men, the abduction, the coaches. And then everything went awry! And why? Because Darken had to meddle again.” He spun around, his eyes throwing daggers at Alex. “Darken and YOU!”

  There was something on his features that surpassed hatred. Well, the feeling was quite mutual.

  Still, uncalled for as it was, she could see where his anger for his brothers came from, but… “And you were ready to sacrifice the lives of your niece and nephew for your childish vendetta?”

  “Maxwell and Josepha were never to be harmed,” Tyler said sharply. “I would never hurt them! They were in no real danger.”

  No danger, huh? “They were almost killed, you moron!”

  “You’re lying!” Tyler snapped, but for the first time, he looked a bit unsure. There was genuine concern in his eyes, and Alex realized that he truly cared for the kids, at the very least.

  Tyler took up his pacing again, a shadowy version of Stephane’s furious lion-strut and Darken’s panther-like grace.

  “All Steph had to do was drop out of the election, but no! He couldn’t even do that. All that would have been lost was a bit of pride, but he had to be his stubborn nobody-tells-me-what-to-do self and keep going, whatever the cost.”

  Oh, that was rich, coming from him!

  Tyler flung his hands in the air. “It’s all Steph’s fault that everything got out of hand! His and Darken’s!”

  Wow, he really seemed to believe that. He had caused this giant mess, but of course it was everybody else’s fault, just not his. If self-centeredness had a personification, it was definitely Tyler Dubois-Léclaire.

  “This entire mess is your fucking fault!” Alex snarled. “Because you’ve been acting like a whiny little sissy everyone is in danger, your brothers, the kids—”

  “Shut up!” Tyler screamed. “SHUT! UP!” He whirled around and punched her. His fist connected with her left temple, grazing off her nose and mouth. Half a dozen cuts re-opened on her face, weeping sticky blood. It was a good thing that he punched like a little girl, or it might have been a lot worse.

  When the world finally stopped spinning, Alex laboriously lifted her head and spat a clump of blood to the side before running her tongue over her bleeding upper lip. She glared at Tyler, who was trembling with fury and something that bordered on panic. How delicious it would be if this was your blood and not mine.

  Wrestling down the murderous rage inside her, Alex tried to fight for reason. Tyler might be a whiny little dick with a chip on his shoulder the size of a baseball stadium, but he was not a coldblooded murderer. Deep down, he had to care, at least a little. Somehow, she had to get through to him and convince him that he could still change things.

  Ignoring Roukewood’s complacent visage, she mustered up as much understanding as she could find in herself. Tyler might be her last possible ally in this.

  “Look, Tyler, I get that you are mad at your brothers, but do you really want to be at fault for their deaths? Darken is hunted down by the Order’s assassins right now, and Stephane is in jail and might be convicted for murder.” The latter being her fault, too.

  Tyler waved his hand dismissively. “They’ll never do anything serious to him. Not to his High and Mightiness Stephane Dubois-Léclaire. They’d chop off their own hands first. And Darken is the king of hiding.”
<
br />   Sweet Jester, could he really be so naive? Alex forced every last ounce of calm and reasonableness into her voice. “Tyler, listen, it’s not too late—”

  “It is too late!” Tyler replied shrilly, looking positively deranged. “I chose my side! I proved my loyalty!” His eyes popped so much, she saw the whites gleaming in them. “I killed Governor Ferhus to show my worth!”

  Alex’s jaw dropped. Mother’s mercy and Jester’s grace! He was right. It was way too late for him. He was in this up to his freaking eyeballs.

  Roukewood cleared his throat. “I'm sure you two still have a lot more to say to each other,” he said, sounding so thoroughly entertained all that was missing was a big bag of popcorn. “But Master Tyler and I really must be going. There is a trial we have to attend.”

  Feigning surprise at Alex’s bewildered expression, he clasped his hands in front of his chest, eyes shining with barely suppressed glee. “Oh, how incredibly rude of me, I’m sure no one sought to break the news to you yet”—Why, aren’t we in a funny mood, my lord!—“so I’ll take it upon myself to do so. Lord Dubois-Léclaire’s trial has been preponed. It’s starting”—he made a big show of glancing first at his horanium iactari then up at Alex—“in about one hour.”

  Alex’s heart did a funny flip inside her chest as if it had jumped, hit a ceiling, and then sprawled on the bottom of her stomach. Her face became hot.

  Roukewood smiled thinly. “Good contacts are a blessing, don’t you think? The Prime didn’t tarry to give his nod for an accelerated trial. We all want this unsightly affair sorted out as soon as possible. I must say, the evidence is crushing… Who knows, the Tribunal might even be able to hand down a sentence by tonight.” And we all know what this sentence will be. All, it seemed, except Tyler.

  Alex was shaking with fury in her bonds, her face a bloodless mask. “You’ll pay for everything you did.”