by L. J. Stock
“Well here I am,” I spat, squaring off my shoulders and spinning my sword into attack position, my other arm still on Damon’s back, holding us both in position. “Who exactly are you seeking vengeance for?”
I couldn't see his face but I could feel the hate radiating from him as he glared at me through the slits in his mask. Whoever he was vindicating, they had obviously meant something to him. That surprised me.
“Two of my best men,” he spat. “One of whom was my son.”
“You'll have to be more specific,” I countered with a sardonic tone, tipping my head to the side in question. I wasn't going to let him lure me into an argument so my emotions would take my rationality. I glared at him over Damon's shoulder as he stepped to the side and attempted to shield me from this giant man.
“Harker and Grigori.”
I tried not to react to the names. I wasn't sure which was his son, but I kept my face a blank canvas, waiting for him to continue. He obviously hadn't caught my hesitation and had misread my silence as a non-committal acknowledgement of knowing the men he'd named.
“The two guards who watched over you in the cell, Princess. Your ignorance is exactly what I expected, of course. My son, Grigori, was a good soldier, and you disposed of him without thought or consequence, all for your own agenda.”
I was going to start developing a complex. This wasn’t the first time I’d been accused of being self-involved with little regard for the life of my enemy. Killing Harker hadn't been something I'd enjoyed or even wanted to do. It had simply been necessary for survival, and Grigori... Well, that was a whole other can of worms I wasn't going to open in front of this man.
“And who are you?” I demanded, falling into the predetermined role of ignorant dictator. I might as well own it while I could. One thing I'd learned in all of this mess was to take advantage of preconceived notions. If you let them believe their own foolhardy lies, it had the possibility of giving you the upper hand.
“I would say it’s irrelevant, but it would be good for you to know the name of the man who kills you. I am Sentarka, son of Thánatos the Great, and you will know my wrath.”
Grigori was the grandson of Thánatos? This was a new revelation. It was no wonder his mother had been blessed with so much time with her son. Grigori’s father had his own set of rules to live by. I guess he just hadn't counted on his nymph slave having such an influence over the rules and her son.
“Grigori—” Damon started, but I cut him off, unsure of what he was planning on saying.
“Is alive in our dungeons,” I finished, hoping that the plan formulating in my head would work. It was diabolical, and I hated myself for it, but it would give us options. “And I have to say, he's an impenetrable fortress, an impressive specimen of the veneficus who has stood up to torture impeccably.”
I was going to play my role as heartless bitch to my advantage. I had an idea of how this could go if things on the other side worked out. I just hoped my friends would arrive before Sentarka could see his son's defection. I also hoped to upset him enough that his emotions would make him careless.
“Enough of your lies. Your time’s run out, and you will die by my hand tonight, Princess.”
He advanced on us without hesitation, his large broadsword slicing through the air so quickly it hummed with the effort. He had no regard for the body in front of him. He didn’t step over her, but on her, smiling as the bones in her body cracked under his sizable weight. The clang of steel rang out as it hit Damon's sword, deafening when it was as confined as it was. The close quarters weren't exactly ideal considering what I was trying to achieve, and there was always a chance that Damon could kill the man rather than render him unconscious as I hoped to do.
I was hoping that if we could imprison him along with Grigori, we might be able to pry more information from him. It was a long shot, but a chance I was willing to take after the way he'd talked about his son.
As Damon engaged him in a fierce melee, I tried to move around him, hoping I could gain an advantage and help him. It was a risk, especially with the tips of the swords flying through the air and colliding with a static clash of keening metal. Both men were now so involved in the fight, neither had noticed my movements, and I hoped to keep it that way. The last thing I needed was to be fending off this giant and giving Damon an opportunity to kill him instinctively.
I worked my way around with them and shadowed the tall figure as best I could once I managed to slip in behind him. I was looking for an opening to leap on his back and take him down. I wasn't sure that the hilt of the sword would hit hard enough to knock him out, but it was a chance I was willing to take. It would have been easier if I'd been more confident of my ability to move things with my mind. I would have used that to move the sword into position with no risk involved, but I didn't have that control and it wasn’t an option.
Physical involvement was the only option I had for now.
If my plan didn't work, I at least hoped it would distract Sentarka enough to give Damon a chance to end the fight and win. If he wasn’t too focused on me, that was, because the only foreseeable problem of failing—and maybe even succeeding—was Sentarka shaking me off his back like a rag-doll. I wasn't excited about the prospect of landing against these rough stone walls or my fiancé’s reaction to it.
Damon was the first of the two to notice me. His eyes met mine briefly, but I was impressed with the way he shook it off as though he hadn't seen me at all and focused on the fight he was engaged in. He never missed a beat, his swings still hitting hard and true on their target. His balance was still impeccable and his determination was still on point. A swell of pride welled inside of me as I realized he trusted me enough to do whatever the hell I was attempting to do. He believed in me, and if anything was going to motivate me to succeed it was that.
I focused on the back of the behemoth man in front of me and began memorizing the way he moved. My body danced side to side with him like a shadow, and it wasn't long until I was in perfect sync. I stepped closer, jabbing and rolling as I followed the muscles in his back. Each step forward brought me closer, and we were symbiotic as we moved. I knew when the next opening to pounce would be, and as we swung and ducked another jab of Damon's sword, I took my chance and latched on, only realizing I'd succeeded when he let out a roar that vibrated through my ribs.
I only had a moment to follow through, and with the hilt of my sword firmly in my hand, I brought it down on his temple so hard the crack echoed louder than the last tang of combating swords. It wasn't until my feet hit the stone that I realized it had worked. I let go of him as quickly as I could while gravity pulled him down. Damon seemed to realize what I was attempting, and before I could draw in a breath, his arms were around me, pulling my body from the huge lurching figure that twitched below me.
In a movement swifter than I'd given him credit for, Damon had my back against the wall, giving me only a second’s notice of his intentions before he stalked toward our attacker with his sword prone, but it was only when he raised his blade that it truly registered with me what he was about to do.
“Damon, no!” I shouted, lunging forward and knocking his arm off course as he brought his sword down for the deathblow.
The tip of the blade sparked as it hit the stone floor. Tiny embers shot out from the impact and died in mid air as the force of it reverberated through his body. With his mind still in battle mode, he spun to face me, his eyes darker than I'd ever seen them before. It took him only a second to blink it away, recognition flashing and softening his look as he took me in.
“You want to tell me what that was all about?” he asked, panting for breath, his broad chest rising and falling with the effort.
“Not here, and not now,” I replied, trying to catch my own breath. “We need to get him to the dungeon before he wakes up. I'll explain, I promise, but we have to do this now.”
Whether he understood or not was anybody's guess, but he didn't question me further. Instead, he moved
to the giant man’s head and bent to hook his hands under the trunk-like arms.
“Lift with your legs,” he grunted as I looped my hands around Sentarka’s ankles and struggled to lift them. I bit back my less than helpful response and started to lift... with my legs.
“Maybe I could use magic?” I asked, my voice straining under his weight and shuffling a few steps forward.
Damon laughed without humor and caught my eyes over the body. “What did Acantha say about that?”
“She's said a lot of things. You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Your mind can only lift what your body lifts, sweetheart. It may have been helpful if that wasn't the case, but I highly doubt you could lift this man alone.”
“Which mean I can't lift him with magic. Fantastic.”
It must have taken at least thirty minutes and two more men from the king’s army to get the man into the dungeon. There was no way to keep him inside of the cell without Grigori around to give us yet another trade secret of the veneficus. In order to move from the cell, Sentarka only needed another door, of which I was certain there were plenty in this palace, something we just couldn’t risk. So we left the two soldiers with swords to guard the man who was now hogtied on the dried straw littering the cell floor. It was the only guarantee he wouldn't be able to walk out of there with little to no effort, but it wasn't a permanent solution, no matter how tempting the thought might have been.
It wasn't until we were above the dungeon and in the antechamber of the receiving room that Damon finally grabbed my arm and spun me around to face him. There was no anger or aggression in the action; his grip was light. He just needed to see my eyes.
“Why are we keeping him alive, Cass?” he asked, curiosity written all over his face. “He’s dangerous, more than most of them. Keeping him alive is a risk we shouldn’t take.”
“Grigori is his son.”
“Yeah, I got that, but it still doesn't answer my question. In fact, it seems to me it's more of a reason to kill him.”
“Not if he thinks Grigori is our prisoner and here under duress. They're father and son, Damon. Don't you see what that means? If he thinks Gori has been held within our confines all this time and refused to talk, maybe he'll trust him enough to give him information we can use.”
It was almost as bad as sending him back behind enemy lines, but my reason for even attempting this would be because we could protect Gori here. He would be under our supervision and only one word away from extraction.
“Or maybe he'll figure it all out and give us false information that will get us all killed.”
I knew there would be risks. I also knew that it could all blow up in our faces, but wouldn't it be worth the risk if it gave us an advantage after all? There was so much we didn't know about what we were facing. There was so much risk for everyone involved. Even if we got nothing but the locations of their army from him, it would be worth it. We could go on the offensive and take down some of them before they had a chance to come at us again. There was also a chance we could know whether they'd discovered the location of the new palace.
“Not to mention the fact that Grigori may not want to do it,” Damon said as though it were an afterthought.
“Do what?” a familiar voice asked from behind me.
I spun on my heel and almost launched myself at the imposing figure of Grigori. He caught me easily, wrapping his arms around me and giving me a squeeze before handing me off to my worse-for-wear father and friends.
“Cass has Sentarka in the dungeons. He’s hogtied with two armed guards. She thinks if you, his son, are in the same predicament with him, he will talk and offer information.”
Everyone looked to Grigori the moment the words were out of Damon's mouth. They each wore a different level of shock at the revelation. It was only Shannon who kept her indifferent eyes on me. One day I was going to have to talk to him about how he delivered information to people, because frankly he was terrible at it.
“You what?” asked Alexa incredulously. I could see from the look she was giving us that she wasn't sure whether it was a joke or not. Which part she thought we were joking about, I wasn't sure, but for me there was something else that needed to be addressed before we got into it. I wouldn’t be appeased until I was brought up to date.
“Wait, before we get in to all that... What happened in the palace? What took you guys so long to get here?”
“Whoa,” Alexa countered, her hands up to calm me down. “You can't drop something like that on us and expect to change the subject without explaining.”
“And you can't show up looking like you've been dragged behind a horse for several miles without explaining,” I bit back, my temper flaring.
As I took each of them in further, I could see the signs of battle in them all. I could almost understand my friends staying to fight, but my father’s involvement made me curious. I needed to know what had gone down after Damon and I had left.
“Sentarka made it here leeching on the coattails of a hysterical vis liberi. He killed her before we could help and then came after us. Why would she translocate alone? What happened that things went so wrong? And where is everyone else?”
I could only imagine the resolve written on my face as I stared each of them down, anger making the blood pound in my ears with the furious hammering of my heart. My father sighed as though realizing this and ran his hands through his messy black hair before addressing me directly.
“After you were sent here, the latros and veneficus stormed the palace. We didn't have much time to react but each of us fought our way to somewhere we could translocate. They came on hard and fast and we were vastly outnumbered. Some of the vis liberi translocated to other locations out of fear.
“The sea of white masks put the fear of the Gods in them, but the men on the front doors did their job while we kept them at bay, and Grigori managed to spell the doors closed. We tried to get everyone out as quickly as we could, and most escaped quickly and efficiently with little problem, which left us with odds of about thirty-to-one. We lit the fires and got the hell out of there before they were even aware we’d moved. Most of the guards are securing this palace now, and we banded together to look for you two.”
The others nodded, satisfied with his summary, although I doubted they would have contradicted him regardless. With their story out of the way, they looked between Damon and I for answers on our own situation.
“Cass and I took on Sentarka after he killed the girl,” Damon said solemnly. “He was looking for retribution for his two best men, one of whom was his son, Grigori.”
“I saw an opportunity to give us an advantage,” I finally said, my eyes meeting Grigori's and holding them. “It was just an idea. You can say no.”
“She knocked him out with the hilt of her sword,” Damon grumbled. “She wouldn't let me kill him.”
“And the plan?” Shannon asked, speaking for the first time since she'd arrived. “The son-of-a-bitch murdered my sister. I think I should have the pleasure of murdering him with my bare hands.”
As much as I agreed with her, I knew that the moment Sentarka laid eyes on her, he'd know that Grigori was here by choice. His aunt was his one Achilles heel. He'd fought to keep her alive because she was the closest thing he had left of his mother.
“He can't see you yet, Shannon. I know you want to kill him and I wouldn’t hesitate to let you, but if he knows you're here then this is all pointless. I need Grigori, if he's willing, to act as another of our prisoners. I'm just curious to see whether Sentarka will talk to you,” I said, turning back to Grigori again. I knew this was a lot to ask of him, and if he said no, I would accept that and have no qualms about letting Shannon and her vindication loose on him.
I watched as his deep brown eyes held mine, assessing me. Something inside of me knew he would never say no to me, but for a moment, I truly hoped he would. I didn’t want him to make the decision because he felt as though he owed me. I wanted him to make the best choic
e for him, and know that I would honor his wishes, that he was truly free while he was here with us. I didn't want him to think that he was a servant or that he was expected to jump to my every whim. His choices were his own.
“You can say no. I don’t want you to do this because you think it’s what I want you to do. This is your call and I won't be offended if you feel like you’d rather not interact with him.” I ignored the incredulous look my father gave me. He knew just as well as I did that Grigori, whether he liked the idea or not, would do my bidding.
“It's not that, Your Highness. You know I would gladly do this for you. I am just trying to decide who best to inflict the damage needed.”
“Damage...” Finally my brain kicked into gear. He was talking about the bruises of war and interrogation. As our prisoner, he would be subjected to torture for information. It was the nature of the beast after all. I'd even seen him with those very bruises and lacerations and now the thought occurred to me, I wasn't willing to see him go through that again. “No. Just… no. Forget it. I didn't think this through. We're not doing this. Shannon can—”
“I'll do it.” Damon’s voice was quiet but unmistakable for me. I felt the blood drain from me, and the chill made me shiver as I spun to face him.
“No, Damon!” I shouted, my voice shaking with emotion. It seemed we could agree on very little during this night. I hadn't forgotten our little wrestling match by the stairs, and by the look in his eyes, neither had he.
“Yes,” Grigori answered him, not meeting my eyes. “It's the logical choice, lyubimaya. You know that he can inflict the damage to make it look real.”
“No. It's not worth it. Please, we’re not doing this. That's my final decision.”
Grigori looked to the king, my father, who simply sighed and nodded his approval. The decision had been taken out of my hands and I was being overruled.
“I will not stay here and watch this,” I snapped, pushing past Damon. Before I could get past Grigori, though, his hands caught my forearms and his eyes met mine. They were burning.