Sabara knew. She knew what he meant, and she didn’t shy away.
I knew I was bested when I could no longer feel the goose bumps, only the sensation of warmth bleeding into my limbs, all the way to my fingertips. I was intoxicated by her power. Drugged and woozy as her Essence overwhelmed me, her desire to be near him winning out over all else.
“Niko,” I breathed, even as I tried to hush my vocal cords.
The need I heard buried in my own voice was heartbreaking, and Niko responded to it. He captured me, and suddenly it wasn’t just Sabara who overpowered me. Niko’s lips crushed mine, and I let him, unable to do anything else.
My mouth parted to let him in. He conquered, and I yielded.
The taste of him was heady, and his touch was electric.
And not one of those feelings—or reactions—was my own. But that didn’t stop me from basking in them. From getting lost in the sheer, unadulterated bliss he’d unleashed within me.
I was still pinned, but no longer trapped. I pressed myself against Niko’s chest and let his hands rove over my back, my sides, his thumbs finding their way to my stomach. They moved up . . .
And up . . .
. . . too high . . .
I wasn’t sure which of us was more surprised when my teeth sank into his tongue. Or whether it was me or Sabara who flinched first from the taste of his blood.
But I knew for certain that I was the one who’d had enough and had come to my senses long enough to put an end to Sabara’s influence over me. At least long enough to stop whatever had been transpiring between Niko and me.
“Bitch,” he cursed, and shoved me back as he swiped the blood that trickled from the corner of his mouth.
Bitch, Sabara echoed, and I banished her once more, my resolve strengthening as my confidence returned. I wished I could bite her, too. I wanted to see her bleed.
I saw Eden fighting to free herself. She wanted blood as well.
“We’re here,” the driver, another soldier, announced from the front of the VAN, and I lifted my head to see where here was, exactly.
What I saw caused cold fingers of dread to seize my spine and rattle me to the core. I wanted to cry or scream, but I did neither. My mouth was open as I stared at the tented city that spread out before me.
There were at least a thousand tents. Not multicolored or jumbled or packed together to take up as little space as possible.
No, this encampment was orderly and single-hued. Black like death, and mottled only by the red Astonian banners that waved overhead. The tents themselves were so numerous that they extended for as far as I could see, disappearing into the valley beyond.
I felt sick, and wondered again and again and again why exactly Niko had brought me here. Why he had turned to Elena’s side.
And then she was there. Elena. Waiting for us.
Her expectant gaze searched the VAN as it drew to a stop.
“Why?” I managed at last, just as Niko was yanking me up from my seat. He was no longer tender, and his fingers bit into my arm as he dragged me to the front of the vehicle.
His eyes alighted on Elena, and he plastered a smile to his lips, not bothering to look down at me when he answered. “For her, of course. Always for her.”
As he shoved me down the steps, delivering me at the feet of my fiercest opponent, a woman I abhorred almost as much as the soul residing within me, I had to wonder which of them he’d meant—Elena or Sabara.
sage
Sage supported Xander’s weight the best she could. It had been that way for miles, as she’d forced him to continue walking, if that’s what you even called what he was doing. She felt more like she was hauling him at this point. He could barely stand on his own, let alone manage the work of dragging one foot and then the other to keep moving—the work required to be considered walking.
Her shoulders and her back and her own feet ached. She was sweating, despite the chill in the air. But she couldn’t stop until she found a suitable place to camp for the night.
No, not camp. Hide.
She watched as the sun set, moving lower and lower in the sky, and she tried to make conversation with her companion. To keep him alert. To convince herself he was okay.
That she wasn’t going to have to dump his body somewhere.
“We’ll stop when we reach those trees up ahead,” she told him.
“Mm,” he grunted, making an attempt to raise his head so he could see what trees she referred to.
“We should be able to take cover in them. You can rest then.”
Another grunt.
“Just a few more steps. You can do this.” She heard the desperation, the plea in her voice. She didn’t want him to know how worried she was for him.
There was no sound, no grunt this time, and she glanced sideways to see if he was still awake. His feet shuffled, as if he were automated, kicking up dirt in his path.
“Xander?” Her voice rose insistently.
Still, there was no response.
She tightened her grip on him, around his waist and on his arm, which was still draped around her shoulder. She squeezed as hard as she could until she knew she was pinching him. “Say something. I mean it.”
“That . . . hurts,” he slurred, almost incoherently, his only reaction to her fingers digging into his flesh.
A relieved laugh escaped her lips. “Good. My back hurts too,” she countered. She didn’t tell him how thankful she was that he’d understood her demand, and that he’d reacted to the pain she’d inflicted on him. It meant he was still with her.
They reached the edge of the forest. Tall evergreens with dark green needles smelled pungent and sharp, and the scent filled her nose. There were ferns and broad-leafed shrubs and boulders and fallen logs, all things that made it the perfect place to stay hidden for a night. Maybe two.
Until Xander felt strong enough to move on his own.
She set up camp and used the few supplies she’d managed to strip from the horses before she’d had to set them free. A blanket and a tarp, some bandages and antiseptic, half a loaf of bread, a special blend of tea she’d had the apothecary mix before she’d kidnapped Xander, and a compact hunting bow that had been easier to carry than the Blaster rifle she would’ve liked to make room for.
By the time she’d returned with dinner—a rabbit she’d shot on her first attempt—Xander was sitting up in front of the fire she’d started, looking mostly alive.
“Feeling better?” she asked, glancing knowingly at the tea she’d instructed him to drink. It smelled like piss, but the apothecary had insisted it would ease—at least temporarily—the discomfort of whomever consumed it.
Xander shrugged, but Sage noted the way his eyes were glossed over now. The tea was doing its job.
She dropped to the ground and began the work of skinning the animal. “You had me scared,” she told him, not looking up to see if he was listening or not. She was glad he was improved, even if it meant he was drugged out of his mind. At least he wasn’t delirious.
She was relieved when Xander managed to eat and actually keep it down. He needed to rebuild his strength. When they were finished and she’d cleared away the carcass so as not to attract predators during the night, she took great care changing his dressing.
The wound was septic, she was certain, and she worried how much longer Xander would last on tea and good intentions.
When the infusion of narcotics wore off, and the shivering began, Sage crept closer to where Xander slept.
She stroked his face and wiped away the sheen of sweat. She patted his back and caressed his cheek. She watched his face as it twisted with torment and agony, and she longed to see it lying dormant. To watch him sleep in peace.
She guarded him and prayed the fever would pass.
And when it didn’t, she curled up close to him and pressed her body to his, hoping that at least some of her strength—and her heat—would transfer to him.
Would keep him safe throughout the night.
&nb
sp; xiv
“You’ve lost your mind,” I whispered, hoping to draw as little attention as possible to the fact that I was still awake. “Was I not clear? I don’t want to see you.”
The tent I’d been escorted to was lavish. I had a bed that wasn’t on the ground, as beds in tents tended to be, and it had real bedding that was clean and soft and smelled of lavender. The food too was hot and fresh, and I’d dined on braised pork smothered in carrots and leeks and some sort of stewed plums. The combination should have been revolting, but somehow, after days of eating from jars, it had been delectable.
I wondered if it was the same fare the soldiers dined on, or if I was simply being treated to the queen’s leftovers.
Either way, despite my accommodations and the spread I’d been offered, I’d not once been uncuffed. Even now, with only the soft glow radiating from my skin to illuminate the pitch black of the tent’s interior, my wrists ached from being bound.
“Hear me out,” Niko said, slipping into the tent and letting the flaps whisper closed behind him. He made it seem as if his actions were covert, but I knew better. There was no way he’d snuck past any of the guards who’d been posted around the entire perimeter of my provisional prison.
I felt as if I were truly seeing him for the first time now, and wondered how I hadn’t noticed his duplicitous nature earlier. How I’d fallen under the charm of his golden eyes and his inviting smiles.
But I knew why, of course. Sabara.
When it came to her, there was nothing double-dealing about him. He meant every sugar-coated word he spoke to her, every silver-tongued compliment, every overblown promise.
He would kill for her. He would die for her.
And everything in between.
She was his everything.
I knew because she told me so with every ounce of energy she possessed as she fought to take me over, even now.
My head ached from trying to contain her. It would have been so much easier to just give in.
And so much more deadly.
“Charlaina, please. Hear me out. I have the answer. I’ve found the perfect solution for all of us.” I didn’t flinch when he climbed onto the side of my bed, and I somehow managed to keep my breathing steady when his fingers grazed over the exposed flesh of my arm.
In the darkness my skin sparked, the only indication he had any effect whatsoever on me—or rather, on Sabara.
The smile on his lips meant my reaction hadn’t gone unnoticed. “You see? You can pretend all you want, but I know she’s in there, listening to everything we say.” His grin widened, his teeth flashing white. “Or was that you? It’s all right if it was, Charlaina. You’re allowed to enjoy yourself. You are queen, after all.”
I flinched from him. “And is this how you treat a queen?” I cocked an eyebrow at him, hoping Sabara was paying attention now. I wanted to prod her, prod both of them, the way he was prodding me. To make her question him, even just the scantest bit. To make her look at Niko the way he really was, a two-faced scoundrel. “Because that’s not how I saw it. It looked to me like you and Queen Elena were pretty chummy. From what I could see, you’ve enjoyed yourselves quite a lot. Am I wrong?”
I waited for the explosion my taunts would cause, but my words didn’t have quite the effect I’d hoped on Sabara, who remained silent.
Niko, on the other hand, had plenty to say. “It’s all for the greater good, Charlaina,” he explained. “Queen Elena is exactly who I’m talking about. She’s the solution I mean.”
“Solution? What possible solution could you expect me to accept?” I bristled. “Is that the ‘cure’ Elena wrote to me about?” But I already knew the answer. “That’s no cure.”
Enemy or not, I wasn’t sure I could do that. In fact, I was certain I could not. How could I live with myself if I were to force Sabara’s Essence onto—into—Elena? Besides, even if I were willing to allow it, there was nothing to stop Sabara from killing me the moment she had a new host. She would have control of her powers once more, and she could easily turn them against me.
I wouldn’t, she insisted, her words echoing hollowly inside my head.
I didn’t believe her, and she knew as much.
“I won’t do it. How can you expect me to just . . . to . . .” I lowered my voice, not even able to say these words aloud as my eyes searched Niko’s. “To . . . ask her to die?” I finally breathed into the darkness between us.
Niko’s hands captured mine, which were still bound in front of me. He lifted them to his lips. “That’s what I’m telling you. That’s what I’m saying. You don’t have to ask her. She wants this. She wants to say the words. She wants to become part of the Essence and live forever. She wants immortality.” He said the last words in the ancient tongue that only he and Sabara understood, the language they’d spoken when they’d first met, all those many, many years ago. When they’d forged their eternal bond.
If only I hadn’t understood it too. Because I knew the truth. Elena wouldn’t survive the way I had.
“She won’t be immortal,” I hissed. “You’re lying to her. She’ll die just like the rest of them. Fade into . . . nothing. Vanish. Then it’ll be just you and Sabara, or Layla, or whatever it is that you call her, together again until people start asking questions about you, wanting to know why you don’t age the way she does. The way they all do. And then what, Niko?” I jerked my hands from his, unable to stand the feel of his skin on mine. “Then you’ll kill another queen, and another?”
“Or a princess,” he answered dispassionately. “Makes no difference to me, as long as she has royal blood in her veins, and as long as she’s willing to say the words.”
“You’re as evil as she is,” I asserted, not caring that I was insulting Sabara, the one person I could never escape.
“What did you think you were coming for? Did you really believe Elena would perform some sort of . . . exorcism? That there would be no consequences?”
I couldn’t admit the truth, that I had hoped more than anything for that.
The silence was long and raw. I couldn’t let them get away with this—their plan to murder Elena to satisfy their own selfish desires. I detested the queen for what she she’d done to Xander and for what she was doing to my country, yes. But I couldn’t stand by and let them just . . . eliminate her.
I closed my eyes, refusing to speak of it any longer. Refusing to listen to Niko’s assurances that this was the key to all our troubles. Refusing to give in to his promises that once the transfer was complete, he and Sabara would have what they wanted—each other—and would leave me, and Ludania, in peace.
But I couldn’t shut out that other voice, the one that continued to haunt me far into my sleep. Sabara, who refused to let it go. Who begged and pleaded and cajoled, trying everything in her arsenal to persuade me to give her Essence over to Elena.
sage
The whispers were maddening.
They intruded on her dreams . . . out-of-place and fragmented snippets of a conversation she was never meant to hear. They didn’t belong in the hazy depths of her sleep, and seemed to come from somewhere else, somewhere intangible and far away. Like clouds or raindrops, or birds that skittered first in and then out of range again, making them hard to distinguish from one another. Hard to catch and hold on to.
They came from somewhere outside of her.
But the jab—the sharp poke that stabbed her cheek—was real. Tangible enough to wake her.
She came up sputtering, her hand reflexively reaching for the knife she always kept hidden in her boot. She never made it that far. The spear—crude as it was, and fashioned from nothing more than a stick that had been whittled to a fine yet lethal point—stabbed her even harder in the face. Jerking back from it, she reached up to feel the faint prick of blood.
Her eyes focused and traveled the length of the makeshift spear, following the smooth bark that covered it, all the way to the unusual creature who wielded it.
She’d never seen anyone�
��or anything—quite like it. Small, like a child. Yet armed and smeared from head to toe in the very earth itself. Beyond her diminutive abductor Sage saw twenty more of them just like him or her, all equally undersize. And all similarly coated in mud.
She glanced sideways to Xander, who still slept.
Dropping a hand to his shoulder, she attempted to rouse him with a quick shake while she asked the stranger holding her hostage, “Who are you?” When there was no response, she tried again, this time in Astonian. She couldn’t help wondering if, somehow, she and Xander had wandered back over to the wrong side of the border. If they’d somehow slipped back onto her country’s soil. “What do you want from us?”
The mud-covered face shattered, crackling into fragments that fell in places and revealed bits of skin beneath. A giggle erupted from the creature’s mouth.
It’s a girl, Sage thought, hearing the lyrical tones that bubbled forth. Only a little girl.
But she knew well enough that even little girls could be deadly. She’d been used as a weapon to seek out her sister’s enemies since she’d hit her twelfth year. She’d killed by the time she was thirteen.
Being young meant only that they were smaller. Not harmless.
Xander stirred. He’d had a restless night. She knew because her sleep had been sporadic, and she’d wakened again and again to his fits of malaise.
“They’re not Astonian,” he managed, trying to sit before the coughing fit seized him.
The coughing had started last night too. It was new, that symptom, and didn’t seem to fit with the fevers.
She had no idea what that meant.
“Where’s your leader?” he asked in Englaise. No matter their class of birth, if they were Ludanian, they should understand him.
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