Corrupted: An Epic Dragons and Immortals Romantic Fantasy (Fallen Emrys Chronicles Book 1)

by E E Everly

  “Yes. I specialized in combat. My dearest friend continued her healing courses. She’s the midwife I learned that delivery technique from.”

  We reached the keep’s entrance. Caedryn and I shook the snow from our cloaks under the overhang before entering.

  “I’m in your debt, Niawen. Had you not come along, I don’t think the babe would have survived.”

  “Remember, I’m a warrior, not a healer.”

  “We all think we’re something until life chooses a different path for us.”

  “Just don’t let your pride get in the way of those you can help,” I said.

  “As you wish. I humbly beg your pardon.”

  I shook my head, annoyed. “Good night.” I left him in the hall, alone.

  FORTY-FOUR

  “Niawen, I want to show you something.” Caedryn entered the library with a smile on his face. “I’ve thought about our earlier conversation. With you moaning around, stuck indoors by the snow, and with Seren gone, I thought you needed purpose.”

  I didn’t tear my eyes away from the window. Six inches of snow. Six days, Seren had been gone. Six books I’d read on commerce, shipping, gardening, and politics. And one scandalous novel about a milkmaid falling in love with a bastard prince. Caedryn caught me reading it and plucked it out of my hands.

  “I shouldn’t have shelved this in my library. My reading choices are abhorrent,” he said.

  I wrestled the book out of his hands, determined to finish it. Caedryn enjoyed the scuffle but relented and watched me color while I turned the pages. The story was filthy and torrid. No book had ever been written in Gorlassar like this one.

  That was the day before.

  Today I was bored. Today I tried not to think of the night on the ledge when Caedryn found me. He never mentioned it. He even kept his snide remarks to himself, having cooled toward me.

  I was somewhat relieved. But I hadn’t exactly cooled toward him, and I think he knew that.

  “Come now, Niawen.” Caedryn minced across the room and peered into my face, hopeful. His brown eyes were earnest.

  “Oh, all right. I hate to be a sour guest.”

  “Not a guest. This is your home for as long as you can put up with me.”

  I pursed my lips. “Lead the way.”

  “Bolster your light; we’re going outside.”

  “Hmmm, where are you taking me?” I tried to remember the conversations we had over the past few days. What words sparked an idea?

  As we left the keep by a side door and hurried under a shoveled alcove, Caedryn spoke. “I know you told me you’re more of a warrior than a healer, but after you told me how you saved the bricklayer, Queen Sorfrona, and Prince Kelyn, I believe you don’t give yourself enough credit.”

  We paused in front of a door facing the courtyard. A few guards milled about, but most people with common sense were inside. Caedryn pushed the door open. “This chamber belonged to an apothecary. I had the room cleaned and furnished with beds and linens, herbs and bandages.”

  A fire burned in the center of the long room, making the modest space pleasant. At one end, a door opened to a stock room. Herbs hung from the ceiling, and jars with salves lined the shelves. In the main room, four beds lined one wall, separated by curtains tied back and hanging from the ceiling. A desk and a chair occupied one corner along with a shelf filled with parchment and books. I gazed at the spines and ran my fingers over them. Books on anatomy, herbs, and remedies.

  A smile crept over my face. “Is this for me? An infirmary?”

  Caedryn slumped onto a bed. “You hate it. Drat. I’ll have the room emptied.”

  I rushed to his side and sat beside him. “No, I love it.”

  He smiled at the floor.

  “You!” I shoved him in the arm. “You’re teasing me.”

  He laughed. By the Creator, when he laughed his cheeks rounded, and his narrow face softened. His eyes even crinkled. A light came into his otherwise dark pupils.

  “So, please don’t be upset,” he said. “I hope you don’t think I’m taking advantage of you either or that I expect you to be the resident physician. We need a healer though, and I thought you could teach me. I’m a tad rusty.”

  I gushed. Caedryn was extending an olive branch. “Spread the word. I’ll come to those who are too sick to venture out in the snow. Those who need extended care can sleep here, and I’ll tend them.”

  Caedryn rose. “Excellent. Niawen, you’re beaming.”

  His response, and his gift, strangely excited me, even though I wasn’t a healer, but I was beyond ecstatic. I jumped up beside him. Caught up in his excitement, I leaned in and pecked him on the cheek.

  Confusion passed over his features. “That was unexpected.” He turned and, with decisive steps, slipped out of the room.

  As I ran my fingers along one of the curtains, I heard him whistling a cheery tune until he passed out of hearing.

  I clasped my hands together. I had purpose. It might not fill the dreaded hole in my heart, but Caedryn’s gift was a welcome distraction. Maybe I could perfect my healing so if I ever saw Catrin again, I would astonish her, but seeing Catrin again was a big if. With time, I had no doubt I’d be as proficient at healing as she was.

  I rummaged through the storage room, familiarizing myself with the herbs. Emrys didn’t have much use for these with healing, but what could learning a new skill hurt? I pulled the herbal remedies book off the shelf and curled up before the fire. I considered teaching Lowri how to use herbs. I couldn’t be everywhere at once. Maybe Lowri already knew this stuff. I never thought to ask her.

  After some time, I drifted over to the desk and searched for parchment and ink. I wanted to make notes. The humans had remedies for every ailment. I was skeptical over some. Light healed most of the stomachaches, headaches, broken bones, broken hearts, stiff joints, infertility, and more that the book boasted of; light was the ultimate healer, except when it came to creating. The grace of Deian’s light restored, never created. Creation was the Master’s calling.

  I yanked open a dusty drawer. Under parchment was an old leather-bound tome at least three inches thick. I heaved the book onto the desk. Raised gold leaf on the cover spelled runic-looking words. I didn’t know what they meant. I opened the book to a random page.

  At least the language was in the common tongue, if a bit crude. I deciphered it though. The page was divided into two columns and read like a recipe book. I squinted at the words. The first subtitle said Possession. The text spelled out an incantation, but not before it mentioned pricking your finger and dripping the blood on an item belonging to the person the spell caster wanted to possess.

  What in the world?

  The next recipe said Cloaking. The next one said Locator Spell. Summoning. Manipulation. And on. I kept flipping the pages. Some basic spells, such as Breath Freshener and Wart Remover, were mixed among others such as Fire Breath. They involved using either blood or herbs or dark energy. Whatever that was. And all involved chanting.

  These humans were nuts. Why didn’t Caedryn take the book out of the room? Maybe the tome was from the previous owner, and when Caedryn had the room cleaned, he didn’t touch the books. I shoved the tome back into the drawer. It felt evil. It felt wrong.

  Only after I shut the drawer did I realize the leather smelled like a corpse.

  FORTY-FIVE

  Even though Caedryn sent word to his subjects that a healer was at the citadel, trust was slow in coming. I knocked on door after door, asking if anyone inside needed healing. I was always admitted, but when they saw I carried no bag and no concoctions, they were leery.

  When I asked if I might lay my hands on a boy with pneumonia, the mother clutched him to her chest as if I were a demon. In the end, she gave in. The change on her face was remarkable as she watched her son go from pale and lethargic to giggling and jumping around the room.

  That’s when word of my skills spread like dragon fire.

  As I worked the first day in my new ca
lling, I considered what I might do to spur my own healing. My heart-center, my spirit, was marred, but not broken. As my father said, my light was tarnished—blackened. Even though I saw that my light was, the actuality made no sense. How could light blacken? He mentioned darkness. I didn’t understand what it was other than the absence of light. No one in Gorlassar carried darkness; how could they when it wasn’t a tangible element to carry? Darkness was nothing but space.

  Emrys spoke of darkness in conversations about corruption, but no one actually knew how the concept worked. I saw darkness in the mortals. I felt it around my heart, and I never once considered it could enter a heart like mine.

  The emrys were naïve. I was beginning to understand because I was experiencing what the emrys were too afraid to trifle with.

  I was also confused. My intentions weren’t evil when I killed those men. My intentions were to protect.

  No. I stopped in the middle of the street, vaguely aware of the few souls bold enough to be trudging through the snow, and clutched the fabric over my chest. In that moment when I reacted, I wanted revenge. I wanted to maim. Those men needed to pay for their crimes.

  Was damaging my heart-center as simple as having unwise motivations—as desiring revenge?

  I was taught that protecting the dragon realm, even by bloodshed, if necessary, was permissible. But that was in defense of a righteous cause—a duty. Was there a difference?

  Regardless, my heart-center felt bound in ropes—ropes that squeezed. Ropes that symbolized my guilt. Cutting shackles wrapped my wrists as well. I was a prisoner to my own shame. So I had done something awry.

  I considered what my creator would want me to do—save the lives of those sick in the city. Work to make my mistake right. I wasn’t sure how many lives I had taken, but eventually I’d save enough to ease the guilt. With each smiling face filled with gratitude, I’d picture a slash in the rope that held me bound until it fell away completely.

  Yes. That was exactly what I’d do. The peace that warmed my heart told me Deian was satisfied with my willingness, my submissiveness. With my good will, he’d resurface my heart-center until it was pure again and I was not corrupted.

  I hoped that was how forgiveness worked. I really hoped my father might someday see I could be pure.

  I hoped Kenrik would be proud.

  FORTY-SIX

  I hurried down the hallway, lost in my thoughts, eager to tell Caedryn of my recent efforts over the last two weeks with the infirmary. I traveled all over the city, healing at least a dozen people a day. Sometimes my progress was slow because I needed to recover between healings. I taught Lowri how to make several salves and teas, and she became my willing assistant while I regained my strength. She went ahead of me and delivered the medicines and took note of those who needed urgent attention.

  And every evening Caedryn and I sat in one of his libraries, either reading together or playing cards or chess. Once in a while I caught him grinning at me, and that’s when I realized I was reflecting on the day’s accomplishments. I wondered if he was assessing my emotions or if he was just studying the smile on my face.

  I was amazed to be happy—amazed this man accepted me for who I was as well. And I wondered what the future held, especially with winter underway. Secretly I imagined Seren showing up and flying me over the frosty city to save me from tedious boredom. I’d even invite Caedryn. That thought surprised me. I was finding pleasure in his company. As I considered him, I realized I might not be bored this winter after all. He was still a mystery to unravel. Since Caedryn was fond of games, I’d make a game of him.

  Caedryn talked of his homeland. He didn’t mention the specifics of his exile or the events leading up to it, but he spoke of the dragons and the half-emrys. He talked about the dragon armies and about how the empress ruled the seven lords. Each region offered a different commodity, and the empress forced them to trade together. The country wasn’t always that way. The frozen land in the north had been kept separate from the plains and the volcanic-ash country. The southern provinces flourished with greenery that the northern lands didn’t have. From what Caedryn told me, I understood that Morvith spanned a much larger geographic area than the three realms of which Rolant was a part.

  I asked him to show me maps. Rolant was north of Sieffre’s realm, and Brenin’s realm was to the west. A sizable desert kept the empress safely away in the east.

  I was pleased to regale Caedryn with stories of my youth. I even decided to tell him about Aneirin and Catrin. Caedryn laughed at how I was such a brash creature. “By the Masters, Niawen, I’d give away all my secrets to see Gorlassar,” he had said. “And to see you in it.”

  I blushed as I remembered his words. At least he was keen on giving away his secrets.

  Surfacing from my reverie, I rounded a corner to Caedryn’s wing. An agonizing roar and a crash of wood echoed down the hall, coming from Caedryn’s study. Despair followed the sounds. I lifted my skirts and raced toward the whimpering the roar had become.

  His room was in disarray. A chair was shattered on the floor. The items on Caedryn’s desk and a tray of food on a nearby table had blown away from a central explosion. Parchment littered the carpet. The table and desk were askew from their original locations. A couch, which had been in the room’s center, was shoved against the far wall.

  Caedryn was at the blast’s center, slumped against the side of his desk. His defeated cries jarred his chest. His eyes were pinched shut.

  “What happened?” I crouched beside him and cupped my hand to his face. Oh, Deian. He’d had some sort of tantrum and destroyed his room, using his power.

  With his closed eyes, he mumbled, squeezing them tighter as if forcing a nightmare away, as if wishing my touch away. “One of my men spotted a dragon.”

  “Whose dragon? Why’s this news enough to bring on such distress?”

  “It’s one of her scouts.”

  I blinked, considering what he meant. “The empress’s?”

  “Yes,” he moaned.

  “So, what of it?”

  “Her spies are increasing. She’s harassing me, permitting her scouts to be seen. She wants me to know that when the time is right, she’ll finish me off.”

  “That won’t happen. She doesn’t care for this realm. You told me she has a massive country that’s four times the size of this one. Why would she concern herself with yours on the other side of the desert?”

  “She’ll annihilate my people. I’ve labored to make a life for those who followed me here. She’d attack to seek revenge on those loyal to me.”

  “No, no.” I stroked his cheek, cooing, passing comfort to him. “She wouldn’t dare. She wouldn’t.”

  Caedryn locked his eyes on mine, and in them, I saw a darkness and fear so deep I gasped.

  “She would,” he said.

  I pushed his messy locks back from his forehead. My heart jumped when I realized this was the most we’d ever touched, or rather, I had touched him. “She’ll have to come through me first. You forget. I’m a warrior. I’m not a scholar like you. I don’t fight with cunning; I fight with fire.”

  “Brave words. You haven’t seen the darkness in action. You haven’t seen her army of dark dragons.”

  The darkness in action? I sank to my knees. “I’ll call Seren back right now. I’ll cross the desert and stop her.”

  Caedryn grabbed my wrists. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t know what she can do. You’d be dead before you even crossed her borders.”

  “You’re afraid of her.”

  “I fear her. I told you I have nightmares.”

  His deep-seated turmoil began to unveil itself in my mind. I had no idea. And here I thought his exile story was to win me over. Wanting to be strong for Caedryn, I hid my worry behind a mental wall.

  He groaned. “I know what you’re doing. You’re frightened. You just cast a wall around your emotions… I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

  “Like what?”

>   Caedryn bristled away from my touch, turning his face. “Dark. Black. Vile.”

  “You’re not dark. What are you talking about?”

  “I’ve been hiding my darkness. I didn’t tell you. A half-emrys is half-darkness.”

  “I don’t understand.” My stomach hitched. Not darkness. Not darkness. No more darkness!

  “One immortal parent, one mortal parent. One brings light; the other brings darkness. I am two halves twisted together.”

  What did he mean? Caedryn carried both? “Why haven’t I discerned the darkness in you before?”

  “One of my gifts is deception. I’m a master of deception. I hide who I am.”

  “And who are you truly?”

  “Insane.”

  “No, you’re not,” I said. “I haven’t seen one inkling of insanity. I’m the one who stood on the ledge in that snowstorm, remember?”

  He looked at me with disbelief. “I am. I’m slipping into madness.”

  “Not while I’m here, you won’t. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Since when did I start to care for Caedryn like this? “We have each other. We take care of each other.” I suddenly felt I was making a declaration—just as Kenrik had done. A sorrow tore through my gut. I felt strangely connected to Kenrik and the state in which I’d left him.

  “I’m terrified of what I might become. There’s no stopping it. I wish you understood, but I’m reluctant to show you.”

  “You’re only who you want to be. Don’t give me rubbish about life choosing the path for you. We make the choice.” When had I become so wise?

  “What if, deep inside, I’ve already made the choice?”

  “And what choice would that be?” I asked.

  “To quit fighting. I haven’t the strength anymore.”

  “I refuse to believe that. You pulled me off a ledge the other day, and now you’re telling me you want to give up?”

  “I’ve been lying to you so you wouldn’t go away. Because I need you. But I don’t want to drag you into this. I thought if you were just near me, I’d be fine. That your light would make a difference.”