by Eva Muñoz
“I think I really will have to kill you,” she said.
I froze. “I’d like to see you try.”
Beatrix slammed her knee into my gut. “Troyan’s mine!”
I snapped. I reached for her shoulders and pushed away from the tree with my foot as hard as I could. The momentum brought Beatrix down, with me on top of her. I pinned her arms with my knees and held her head in my hands. She glared at me with pure hate. I bent my head until my lips touched her ear.
“You may be engaged to Troyan, but he let me bite him,” I said.
Beatrix let out a piercing scream. I straightened and let go of her to cover my ears. In my periphery, I noticed a shadow come at us, but before I could react, pain shot through the back of my head and I sank into darkness.
Chapter Seventeen: Disgrace
I CAME to with a start. Ropes secured my wrists to armrests. Another rope wrapped my legs together from the knees down. Beatrix and whoever knocked me out had gagged me as well.
I tried my best to figure out the details of the room they’d dumped me in, but the only light came from a small slit under the door. I groaned and stared around the room, making out the outlines of a table, a bookshelf, and something oval-shaped on the wall. A mirror, maybe. Or a painting. Nothing gave away my current location. A lot of good it would do me anyway, since I didn’t know enough about the palace to actually pinpoint which part of it the room could be in.
I screamed. No one came. Thirst plagued me. What I wouldn’t give for a tall glass of water right about now. My muscles ached from struggling. I had lost sensation in my fingers and toes.
I squirmed against the ropes to try and loosen them, chafing my skin in the process. Without thinking I put all my weight to one side. The chair tilted and fell with a bang, followed by my muffled whimper. Pain shot up my shoulder. I squeezed my eyes shut and channeled all my frustration into one cold-sweat-inducing snarl.
I shouldn’t have taunted Beatrix. I chalked it up to the connection Troyan and I shared. I just wanted to piss off Beatrix, but revealing I had bitten Troyan might not have been the best idea. Of course the Inshari who had given me a good conk on the head fought dirty. He or she needed to pay.
Lying on my side, in the dark, tied to a chair, I started to plan my next move when the door opened. My attention focused on whoever had decided to join me in the quaint abandoned room I called my holding cell. My muscles tensed. I thought of all the nasty things I wanted to say when he or she removed the rancid gag.
A ray of light hit my face. I squinted. I could only make out the outline of someone tall. No skirts. Not Beatrix.
The figure charged at me. I whimpered in panic and closed my eyes, waiting for the deathblow. Instead the ropes binding my wrists and legs were torn away, sending me falling. Strong, capable hands wrapped around my arms. I opened my eyes as my whole body vibrated in response to his presence. I yanked away the disgusting gag and coughed.
“Troyan,” I croaked.
He pulled me into his embrace. “When you were not where you were supposed to be, I immediately came looking,” he said.
I forced myself to swallow despite the nasty aftertaste of the gag. “How did you find me?”
“I followed your scent from Gaige’s garden to here. What happened between you and Beatrix?”
Heat prickled my cheeks. “How’d you know about that?”
“I can smell her all over you.” He sniffed as if to emphasize his point.
“Let’s just say we had a little… disagreement.”
Troyan held me at arm’s length and looked me over. “Are you hurt anywhere? Anything broken?”
I had never heard him so agitated. I took inventory of my sore muscles and shook my head. “My shoulder hurts a little, but I can finally feel it healing. And my headache from whoever hit me is starting to fade too. Besides a serious case of pins and needles on my arms and legs, I think I’m okay.”
“This has gone too far.” Troyan let go of me and took a step back. “Kidnapping reeks of Vladimir.”
“You know this for sure because….” I rubbed my arms and shifted my weight on my legs to get the blood flowing again.
“Beatrix would never have left you tied up. If she wanted to kill you, you would be dead. You said someone hit you in the back of the head?” I nodded and he continued, “This could mean someone stopped the fight before it got out of hand and brought you here. Vladimir has been sniffing around. He ordered an inquest into Gaige’s experiments.”
I reached out for him but stopped myself and clutched my hand to my chest instead. I trembled. I couldn’t find the words to answer him. Troyan’s words planted a seed of foreboding in a corner of my heart.
“Troyan, what’s going on?”
Barely leashed anger burned in his eyes. “I thought I could handle the connection between us, but I was wrong.”
My heart beat so hard it hurt. “What are you saying?”
“The last thing I need right now is a distraction.”
“I’m….” I swallowed again, my throat closing. “You think I’m a distraction.”
“Camron, my people need me.” Troyan curled his fingers into tight fists. “I must fulfill my duty. Keep this colony safe.”
“I don’t believe you,” I said, rising anger becoming my ally. “You’re more than just a future king, Troyan. You have to at least see that, right?”
“You have no idea what you are saying. I have a responsibility to my people.” He unclenched his fists. “I think it would be for the best if we stayed away from each other until the formula leaves your system.”
I couldn’t breathe. “Troyan, don’t do this. Stop lying to yourself.”
“Sir, we have to hurry,” someone said from outside the room.
Troyan moved toward the door and spoke to them.
I pushed away the pain Troyan’s words injected into me. No matter how much he insisted on being king, I could see his heart wasn’t totally in it. Yes, he had a responsibility to his people, but there were many ways to be a leader. I would find a way to make him see that, connection or not. Troyan didn’t have to be a martyr. He practically begged his father to let him travel when they were speaking in the throne room. I wasn’t about to let him sacrifice himself for something he didn’t totally believe in.
I looked up. Lev entered the room and my eyebrows shot up my forehead.
“Lev?” I said, giving the impeccably dressed liaison an assessing glance.
“Expecting someone else?” he asked, condescension in his tone.
Troyan interrupted what I was about to say. “Lev, please escort Camron to Zaire’s home.”
I frowned. “Why Zaire’s place?”
He kept his gaze on Lev. “The palace is no longer a safe place. Lev, please make sure not to lose him this time,” he said and left.
When Troyan said we needed to stay away from each other, I didn’t think he’d meant right that moment. Putting on a brave face despite my insides shattering like glass, I nodded at Lev. He turned around and began walking away. I moved to follow, giving the room one last glance at the door.
“Will you hurry up,” Lev called from the end of a long hallway.
It was freaky how fast the Inshari could move.
I sprinted until I caught up to him. “I’m sorry,” I said, sincerity in my apology.
“You should be.” Lev walked by my side, close enough that I felt his warmth but not enough for our arms to touch. “I almost had a heart attack when I looked behind me and you weren’t there. If it hadn’t been for Zaire, I would have lost my mind looking for you. So, you should be sorry.”
I bit the tip of my tongue. That was why I had gotten away from Lev so easily on that first day: Zaire had stopped him from finding me. It had to have been before he joined me between the curtains at the throne room.
We turned a corner, and a bunch of the Silent parted to let us through. Many of them gave me curious glances.
The path Lev chose opened to the other half of
the city behind the palace. He made a beeline for a massive house to the left. Once inside, I realized that what looked like a Victorian manor with ivy climbing its walls actually housed cabin-like features, with wooden beams and paneling. The only metal came in the form of light fixtures and the banister lining the curved staircase that led to the second floor. The mix reminded me so much of Zaire.
“I’m sure you’d like to change,” Lev said as he escorted me into one of the upstairs bedrooms. “I’ll have someone help you.”
He left in such a hurry that I hadn’t even taken a breath to speak when the door slammed shut behind him. He was still angry, but he didn’t have to be rude. Drama queen. I shook my head and surveyed the room.
The sheer amount of girly pink frills blinded me. The duvet cover, the pillowcases, the cover on the loveseat, even the french curtains had frills. They seemed to have a life of their own, devouring every surface. And if I squinted, they seemed to move. A room, no matter what, shouldn’t have so many frills.
Before my brain exploded, a light tapping on wood startled me.
“Come in,” I said.
As the door opened, I expected a Silent in a french maid’s uniform. Instead one of the most beautiful girls entered, bringing with her the scent of sweet apples. Long curls so devastatingly flaxen bounced when she moved. Stunning sapphire eyes were made more dramatic by a fan of thick lashes that brushed against slightly flushed cheeks when she blinked. She wore a Gothic Lolita dress of white lace and navy-blue ribbons, making her resemble a walking porcelain doll whose head barely reached my chin. I wanted to pick her up, brush her hair, and have a tea party.
“Oh, sorry.” I moved my gaze to the beige carpet’s chocolate embroidery.
“What for?” she asked.
“For staring.” My eyes traced the vine pattern, ears hot.
“Oh please, I’ll have none of that.”
I looked up at her. The brilliant smile on her face blew me away. I whirled around to face the curtains. “Give me a sec. I’ve never seen anyone as blindingly pretty as you. It’s disconcerting. I thought Lev would send one of the Silent.”
“Oh, he did. But when I heard about the special package arriving, I insisted on seeing you for myself.”
I spun around. “So, you know.”
She walked to the large armoire by the wall. “Not much, but Zaire did mention Gaige was working on something. Or should I say… someone? No wonder those crones who call themselves Traditionalists are suspicious. You’re a walking breakthrough.”
She browsed through the clothing in the armoire. “Now, we should get you out of that tacky tracksuit.” She pulled out a tunic of emerald satin and showed it to me.
I dumbly shook my head.
“Would you prefer jeans and a shirt, then?”
Jeans and a T-shirt. I longed for them. But I had to keep up appearances.
I worried the edge of the tracksuit’s hoodie with my fingers and asked, “You don’t happen to have a Braylin uniform, do you?”
“Ah, yes. Simple is always best.” She shoved away several articles of clothing and found what I had requested.
“And a shower?”
The girl pointed at the door next to the loveseat.
Sighing gratefully, I strode into the adjoining bathroom with its claw-foot tub and a shower closet. “What’s your name?”
“Perrin Zulia Demarcus. I’m Zaire’s younger sister. It’s a pleasure meeting you, Camron.”
“How did you know my name?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
Scary. I let the question drop. Why wouldn’t she? Only Zaire would have such an incredibly beautiful sister.
All throughout my shower, Perrin spoke about the Inshari, giving me more insight into their culture. Unlike her smooth operator of a brother, she turned out to be sweet and talkative.
After my shower I wrapped a towel around my waist and reentered the room. Perrin had the Braylin uniform laid out on the bed for me. A new pair of boots stood on the bedside.
“Do you have underwear I can borrow?” I asked. “Whoever stripped me down at the Medical Wing never returned mine.”
Perrin glided over to a chest at the foot of the bed. She pulled out a pair of black boxers. I took them, along with the uniform, back into the bathroom and got dressed.
“How are you liking your stay at the colony so far?”
Her question caught me off guard. What was I supposed to say?
I must have taken too long to speak because Perrin said, “I’m guessing you’re not comfortable with that question.”
“It’s not that,” I replied. “I think I’m overwhelmed by it all.”
“I can imagine.”
I struggled with the cravat as I exited the bathroom once more. Perrin nudged my hands away and took over.
When I couldn’t take the silence anymore, I asked, “Perrin, I’ve been wondering, how old are you?”
“Not a day over six hundred.”
“How old is that in human years?”
She looked impish for a moment. “About twelve.”
“What about Zaire and Troyan?”
“Oh, they’re both about nine hundred, although Zaire’s older by a year.”
I did the math—so eighteen, just a year older than me if they were human. It was like being among the Redwoods in California.
She stepped back. “There. Perfect.”
I looked down at the cravat. “Thank you.”
“Since you’ll be here for a while, how about a tour of the house to pass the time?”
With a shrug—because I had nothing better to do—I trailed Perrin into the hall and down the grand staircase.
The landing had a massive bouquet made up of colorful flowers in a large crystal vase sitting on a hexagonal table. Perrin led me into the living room where she pointed out the differences between bentwood and stick furniture. She described the rustic theme that continued into the dining room, the kitchen, and the game room.
We were standing in the sunroom when I couldn’t help myself anymore and asked, “Perrin, why are you and Zaire different from the other Inshari?”
She paused.
“We are the offspring of the Superiori,” she finally said. “It is said, and I only know this from my studies, that the Inshari come from two clans: the Superiori and the Aperiori. The differences being the Superiori are cold-blooded while the Aperiori are hot-blooded. All of the Inshari you’ve encountered are descendants of the Aperiori. My brother, my aunt, and I are the last of our kind in this colony.”
“What happened to the rest of you?”
A flicker of grief crossed over her face.
I rushed to her side and hovered like a mother hen. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
Her cute factor turned me into mush. I didn’t quite know how to react. My protective instincts clashed with my need to pummel the cause of her distress.
Perrin blinked away tears before they could fall. “It’s not that. Don’t feel like you can’t ask me things.” She squeezed my warm hand with the coolness of her own. “I just recalled something.” She closed her eyes, breathed, and opened them again. “I don’t really know what happened to the other Superiori.”
I decided to stop asking questions. Getting answers didn’t merit seeing Perrin in tears, so I returned to the topic of touring the house and allowed her to lead me into other rooms. I listened intently. Learning about why the house looked like a manor on the outside and a cabin on the inside made me laugh. Apparently, Perrin and Zaire couldn’t decide if they wanted something Victorian or something rustic. Eventually, they struck a compromise, but not before driving the builders crazy.
“You mean this is all new?” I asked.
“Oh, yes,” she said, marching down a long hallway with barren walls except for a single portrait at the end. “We used to live in the palace.”
“Where are your parents, Perrin?”
She stopped, her back ramrod straight.
&n
bsp; The feeling of having made another mistake came as spiders running across my skin. “I—”
“You should know,” she interrupted my apology. “I’m sure Zaire hasn’t told you, but he should have.”
My heart leaped to my throat. “What do you mean?”
Perrin pointed to the end of the hallway. “I think you should see for yourself.”
Bewildered, I followed her finger with my gaze and moved forward, drawn by an invisible force toward the lone painting. Soon, a figure in maroon robes sitting on a throne came into focus. A large shield with the profile of a lion on its haunches hung above the throne. One of the lion’s paws grasped a sword. Its tip impaled the head of a snake while the serpent’s body wrapped around its other front paw. Above the lion’s head floated a crown and the words: fundamenta inconcussa.
“Unshakable foundation,” Perrin said from behind me.
My gaze traveled to the man. Even in dim lighting, the luminescent tumble of blond curls reminded me of someone. On his forehead, a simple gold circlet kept his unruly locks from taking over his brow. He had classic features: a straight nose, high cheekbones, a stubborn chin, and sensual lips. The same silver crescent scars that covered Darius’s skin marked his hands and neck. His eyes captured mine. The lightest shade of blue, like ice.
“Zaire,” I whispered as a profound numbness came over me.
“No.” Perrin stood by my side and gestured to the painting. “Camron, this is my father, the exiled Excelsior Yaris Orion Demarcus of the Demarcus Dynasty.”
Chapter Eighteen: Fallen
I HAD no words. Goose bumps spread across my arms and legs. Zaire’s father had been Excelsior, which meant Zaire had held the title of Effendi Excelsi, and Perrin had been a princess, whatever they called it. What had happened to their father? Why didn’t he rule anymore?
Gaige’s words about the Excelsior’s exile being unimportant haunted me. Why wouldn’t Gaige want to elaborate on what really happened after consuming humans had been forbidden? And, more importantly, why would Zaire hide the fact that he had royal blood?