Ostracized (The Ostracized Saga Book 1)

by Olivia Majors

  I don’t like this. I don’t like how she seems to know my innermost thoughts. My greatest desires. My worst fears.

  And I don’t like how, with each passing second, she becomes less of a monster and more of a . . . a . . .a what?

  Human?

  “Kyla . . .” Shade moans behind me. I hear him standing up.

  The shadow glances between him and I for a few seconds. “Take note, Kyla Bone . . . what do you think our history books say about your kind and his? As I understand, you’ve always tried to look for the truth hidden behind fancy words and foppish tales. Open your eyes and look for the truth behind what you’ve been told about us. I guarantee you, it’s easier than you think.”

  “Kyla!” Shade gasps from behind me. He yanks me away from the bars. “Don’t touch her, hell-cursed bastard!”

  I hadn’t even noticed her soft and comforting touch on my hand, until it is gone. It leaves a chill on my skin.

  “Did she hurt you?” Shade asks, grabbing my hand.

  I see the female’s knife flash in the dim light before it strikes Shade across the shoulder. Blood runs down his arm and he gasps. She chuckles.

  Hot anger pulses through my arms.

  When a blast of my power strikes her full in the chest, intended to splatter her against the wall, she remains upright, her cape flaring back to reveal a solid body beneath it – two arms, two legs, and a torso. All human. All flesh and blood.

  “Interesting,” she musses. “Very interesting.”

  She turns and walks away.

  Shade clasps his arm tightly. “What the hell . . .” he growls.

  I pull his hand away and examine the wound. Relief whispers through me. It wasn’t a shadow blade that cut him, thank the gods!

  “What did that thing want from you?” Shade asks, suspicion in his voice.

  Open your eyes.

  Open your eyes and see the truth.

  It’s easier than you think . . . open your eyes.

  “Kyla?” Shade lowers himself beside me. He puts a hand on my shoulder, over the ostracized scar, and brushes it gently. “Kyla, look at me.”

  I do.

  “It’s going to be alright,” he whispers and pulls me against him, wrapping arms around my shoulders. “They’re not going to hurt you, understand? They’re never going to hurt you.”

  He thinks I’m frightened. He thinks I’m afraid for my life.

  He has no idea why.

  When I open my eyes, I’m not on the cold, dank floor of a prison cell, but standing in the middle of a dark, candle-lit room with a glass roof sixty feet above my head. I stumble to my feet.

  Never, in a million years, would I forget this room.

  Moonlight bathes the Celectate’s solar in silver glory. It reveals the dark fingers of dried blood coating the marble podium and the expensive floor tiles.

  Celectate Wood never wiped my blood away!

  Craig, his jaw tight, is standing in front of the podium, arms clasped behind his back. “What do you say to the charges laid against you . . . Landor Bone?”

  My brother stands before him, two guards flanking him, left and right.

  What the hell?

  “I’d call them barbaric lies, sir,” Landor answers firmly.

  Craig’s eyes glitter in the dark room. “Would you?”

  Landor doesn’t flinch beneath the harsh gaze his former friend levels upon him. “Honestly, sir, I don’t see why you’d be the least bit incredulous about me. I’ve been nothing but loyal to you through this entire ordeal.”

  “Loyal?” It comes out a harsh whisper. “Loyal to whom?”

  Landor gasps theatrically and places a hand over his heart. “I’m deeply wounded, sir, by your lack of faith in my fortitude.”

  One of the guards next to him tries to hide an amused smirk.

  Craig doesn’t miss the action and snaps, “It is not your fortitude I find lacking, Sir Bone, but the misplacement of its efforts. You were the only one who had access to that cell, other than myself. Who else could have released the prisoner?”

  There is a commotion from one of the solar’s side-doors and Asher appears a few moments later, sword drawn and sweat glistening on his brow. “Craig,” he gasps, “what are you doing?” His eyes flicker to Landor.

  Landor’s eyes lose their light instantly.

  Craig notices. He turns to Asher. “Performing, with Celectate Wood’s approval, an investigation of Sir Landor Bone and his involvement with a prisoner’s escape.”

  “What prisoner’s escape?” Asher stutters.

  “The giant rebel, affectionately known as Scythe.”

  Asher’s features pale.

  Craig renews his attack on my brother. “I know you did it, Lan! I know!” He pulls something from his pocket and holds it up. It’s a key, hanging from a blue ribbon. “Recognize it, Lan? Where do you think we found the copy I made? Come on, good man, take a guess!”

  Landor’s face has gone pale.

  I want to scream at him, “What have you done?”

  Craig’s lips widen into a sadistic smile. “By the guard Scythe killed on his way out of the palace.” He pulls another key from his pocket and dangles it next to its twin. They are almost identical except for the ribbons. One ribbon is dark blue. The other is light blue.

  A trap!

  Landor realizes it, too.

  “You betrayed the Celectate and Kelba,” Craig continues. “And why? For revenge? You sold your soul to the devil because you are unable to forget the past. Sadly, it is a decision you must pay for. Do you know the punishment for such an act, Lan?”

  My brother just stares at him.

  “Your rank and title must be stripped away as a Celect Knight,” Craig says, “and your right eye plucked out as punishment for your lack of insight.”

  “Craig!” Asher gasps.

  Landor says nothing – his jaw trembles slightly, but he doesn’t flinch beneath Craig’s hardened gaze.

  Craig draws a knife from his side and steps towards my brother.

  Asher grabs his arm.

  “Let go!” Craig orders.

  Asher holds on. “Don’t do this, Craig. Please. He’s our friend. He’s your friend.”

  “He defied the Celectate.”

  Asher stares at him, shocked. “And since when did your loyalty to a man who cares nothing for you, become more important than your loyalty to your friends?”

  “My loyalty has, and always will be, to the ruler of Kelba,” Craig snaps, “and that is Celectate Wood.”

  “We were raised together. We fought, bled, and got drunk together. We were sworn in together. And now, because of one man who doesn’t give a flying piss about your existence, you’ll rip us apart?” Asher blinks back tears. “Why? Why, Craig?”

  “He is my ruler. My only allegiance. My Celectate!” Craig snaps. He points a shaky finger at Asher. “And he’s yours too.”

  “Like hell he is,” Asher snarls. He steps in front of Landor.

  “Have you switched sides?” Craig asks in a low, steady voice.

  An icy prickle of nerves gathers at the base of my spine.

  “My allegiance has never changed!”

  “Asher,” Landor says, “stop . . .”

  “You say Landor sold his soul to the devil,” Asher continues, “but you were the one who did that. And for what? For a title and rank you couldn’t get through honest means? A title and rank you had to steal from Landor? Oh, don’t give me that look, Craig. You and I both know you don’t have the skill or the mindset to be a captain. So how did you get that emblem on your shoulder? By suckling up to his highness. By betraying your fellow countrymen. You’ll always be the babe hanging on Celectate Wood’s tits, dependent on him for every breath you breathe.”

  Craig’s tone is still low and steady.“Have you finished?”

  “Not quite. You’ve always been jealous of Landor. Jealous of his family. Jealous of his skills. And jealous because you couldn’t have his sister.”

  �
��What?” Landor breathes, glancing between the two.

  “Oh, did Craig never tell you?” Asher asks.

  Craig’s face turns red. “Don’t . . .”

  “He was interested in her from the day they first met. But he knew what you would say about it. He told me once, in a drunken stupor, that if he were Kyla’s brother he’d be taking advantage of that authority. On the night she was imprisoned in the dungeons, awaiting trial, he went to the Celectate and asked for permission to ‘fuck her’.”

  The air leaves my lungs in a collective gasp.

  “You son of a bitch . . .” Landor snarls. The guards grab him around the shoulders and prevent him from approaching Craig. “You sick bastard!”

  “Who’s the real traitor now, Craig?” Asher asks angrily.

  Craig sighs and blows a long, steady breath before unsheathing his sword. “I believe you are, Sir Rave.”

  Asher blinks. “What?”

  “Well, I do think we all heard it, didn’t we?” Craig asks with a wide gesture to the soldiers around him. “You insulted his highness and openly admitted you bare no allegiance whatsoever to him or that seal that rests on your shoulder. You have also interfered with an investigation’s edict. Step away from the accused, Sir Rave.” He moves towards Asher.

  “Like hell I will.”

  “Asher . . .” Landor says softly, eying Craig. “Please step away and . . .”

  “And what? Let him harm you. I stood by and watched one of my friends suffer,” he whispers. “I won’t do it again!”

  Craig stops in front of Asher. “Move aside, Sir Rave!”

  “Eat shit!” Asher snaps.

  I don’t see it, but I hear it. The tear of flesh. The crunch of bone. The slice of metal. The whoosh of one’s breath. The fall of a body.

  And Landor’s horrified cry.

  Craig steps back, pulling his blade from Asher’s abdomen, just beneath the rib-cage, and sheathes it at his side.

  Asher falls flat, gasping. Blood bubbles from his mouth. Craig’s strike had been intentionally painful – he punctured a lung.

  Craig watches with cold, calculating eyes as Landor throws himself beside Asher and presses a hand against the wound. But the damage is too deep to fix.

  Asher’s hand fumbles with his tunic pocket and his fingers claw a folded piece of paper from its interior. The paper is yellow and worn with age. He slides it in Landor’s direction, too weak to raise his arm.

  Landor grasps it.

  Asher’s hand stops moving. A moment later his chest doesn’t rise or fall. The only thing that moves is the blood pulsing from his mouth and the gaping hole in his torso.

  My brother unfolds the paper, and his eyes darken.

  Craig steps close, curiosity in his gaze.

  Landor stares up at him. “Look!” He thrusts the piece of paper into Craig’s face.

  It is a sketch. A sketch of four people – three boys and a girl – standing side-by-side with smiles on their faces and their hands joined together. It was one of my very first drawings. Asher was the only one who would let me sketch him and when it was done, as a reward for his patience, I gave him the portrait. I didn’t even know he kept it.

  “This is what you’ve ruined, Craig Hale!” Landor snarls. He gets to his feet. Several of the soldiers around him pull their blades.

  “This is what you’ve lost!” He presses the paper against Craig’s face, smearing blood all over his skin. Asher’s blood. His friend’s blood.

  Craig draws back, wiping frantically at his face.

  “This is what you threw away . . . for that!” My brother gestures at the emblem sewn onto the shoulder of his tunic.

  “This . . .” Landor points at Asher, “. . . is what you destroyed, you fucking son of a bitch, for ambition!”

  Craig kicks him hard in the groin.

  Landor falls to his knees.

  Craig kicks him again – this time in the head.

  My brother falls flat on his back, a pained groan vibrating from his throat.

  Craig jumps on top of him, pinning Landor’s arms down with his legs. He rips the glove from his hand, and pins my brother’s head to the floor with the other.

  “Get off me, you son of a . . .”

  Craig sinks his fingers into the flesh around my brother’s right eye. Landor screams. There is a wet, oozing noise, followed by a sickening pop.

  Craig stands up.

  My brother’s eye sits in the palm of his hand.

  Landor grabs his face, screaming, while blood pools around his head.

  Craig calmly places the eye in his pocket before returning his attention to Asher’s corpse and my brother’s writhing form. “Get this filth out of here!”

  I lose the vision in a sea of darkness.

  Shade gasps when I launch myself towards the wall and slam a fist into the stone. My knuckles crack beneath the hard surface and blinding, white pain immobilizes my arm. I scream but it could never be loud enough or furious enough.

  Damn Craig! Damn him to the lowest pits of hell and beyond! Damn him! Damn him! Damn him!

  With each damnation, I pound a fist against the wall.

  My brother. First my father, now my brother.

  And Asher . . . sweet, kind, loveable Asher.

  And that son of a bitch killed him!

  Damn him! Damn him! Damn him!

  “Kyla!” Shade tries to pull me away from the wall. I throw him off. “Stop! Kyla, stop it!” He grabs my fists , spreading his hands over them to prevent me from punching the wall. I don’t stop. He hisses in pain as I slam his own hands into the stone. “Kyla!”

  Slowly, the fury fades, replaced with a heavier feeling of despair. And the memories – oh, gods, the memories. Asher, toasting to my success when I mastered the dagger. Asher, blushing whenever I patted his arm or said something kind. Asher, insisting I join them for a “night on the town” whenever I was feeling down. Asher laughing. Joking. Singing.

  And my brother – his eye! Oh, gods, his eye! I think of the pain he must be in. The terror, the grief, the guilt that must be ripping him apart. I should be there with him. Gods dammit, I should be there!

  I sag against Shade, heaving silently. I sink to the floor, bringing him with me.

  “Shade, he’s dead. He’s dead!” I wail.

  “Who’s dead?”

  I turn around and press my face against his chest, hiding the terror on my face. “He’s dead!”

  I don’t know how long I lean against him like that.

  I don’t know how long I utter that single phrase.

  I just know it will never be long enough to forget what happened or change it.

  Chapter XXXIX

  The female shadow returns the next day.

  “Come,” she says and unlocks the door. It swings open.

  I stand up. Shade remains with his back against the wall, watching the shadow with critical, predatory eyes.

  “Where?” I ask, equally suspicious. There’s something different about her walk. Something . . . excited?

  The shadow throws back her hood to reveal the ebony mask beneath and black, glossy waves of straight, sleek hair. “To the answers that you seek.”

  I go with her – but I take Shade with me.

  A door opens in front of the long, prison tunnel and the female shadow helps me ascend the cold stone steps that stretch thousands of feet in the air. There are so many different staircases around us that my head spins. How does this thing remember where to go?

  The shadow opens another door at the end of our staircase.

  We stand in a large hallway where the ceiling stretches so high above my head I have to crane my neck to see it. Black, glossy pillars envelop us on all sides, giving the hall a regal appearance.

  And there is light. Beside the pillars to my left the ground drops away violently creating a ledge. A thin black curtain floats down from the ceiling to brush against the drop-off. The sun shines through the curtain, offering a dim example of its brilliance.
>
  Shade gasps, and I turn to see what’s astonished him. The shadows are no longer shadows. Their capes float about them as usual, but any fog that floated around them has disappeared. Beneath the hoods, their masks gleam in the faded light. Shade stares at them in horror.

  Has he truly never seen them like this?

  The shadows lead us through the pillared hall into another room. This room is different from the rest. The floor shines like black glass and the walls are carved with intricate shapes. The ceiling is closer to the ground; thirty feet instead of a hundred. A large stairwell, wide and shining like dark glass, ascends upwards into another pillared hallway lined with doors and stairwells leading to gods-know-where.

  I tap my toes against the steps. They are stone, but I’ve never seen any stone like it before. It ripples as my shadow passes above it.

  The hallway is long, stretching a hundred yards at least, before ending in front of intricately designed double doors, twenty feet high.

  The female shadow removes her hand from my elbow, tucking it back inside her cloak.

  I could run if I wanted to. I should. I should escape or die trying. Shade would do it if he were in my position.

  To the answers that you seek.

  I look at the shadow.

  She looks right back.

  “Where are we?” I ask.

  “You wanted the answers to your questions, yes?” she drawls quizzically, her voice sounding every bit as human as my own. “The emperor has them.”

  “Is your emperor a giant?” I ask and gesture at the twenty-foot doors.

  The shadow chuckles and raps her knuckles sharply against the doors. “See for yourself.”

  The doors swing open. I enter another large room. The ceiling rises a hundred – maybe two hundred – feet in the air and all along its surface are strange markings, strange symbols, and strange crystals marring its expanse. There is only one window – an oval circle carved into the roof, that allows a beam of light to brighten the middle of the room. Everything around the light, however, remains cloaked in darkness.