Page 16 of This Vicious Dream (Kingdom of Death #1)

Madinia

I wake to the feel of Calysian’s arm clamped around me. I tense, and he merely pulls me closer, then loosens his arm just enough for me to twist to face him.

Pushing against his chest, I look up into amused dark eyes. Tiny flecks of gold shimmer within them, and I go still, momentarily entranced.

“Good morning.” His voice is rough, intimate.

Too intimate.

When I look at him, I can feel the remnants of lust burning within me even now. I can feel the ghost of the desperation that made me come so close to begging.

“Release me.” The words are cold, my tone even colder. Calysian’s eyes turn flat, and he gives me an empty, lifeless smile.

Something in my chest wrenches. I instantly want to take the words back. But his hands have already loosened. And the gold has disappeared from his eyes.

Pulling one of the blankets free, I wrap it around me, ignoring his considering expression as he watches me. Within moments, I’ve gathered my clothes and disappeared behind a clump of warped trees where I dress.

“That was poorly done,” a male voice says, and I jolt, cursing as Eamonn lands on the branch closest to my head.

I slap my tunic to my bare breasts. “Go away.”

The bird lets out a strange sound. “Please. I’ve seen better. I’ve touched better.”

Turning my back, I shove the tunic over my head. “Is that so? And how long ago was that?”

Silence.

I regret the words as soon as I’ve said them.

“Does it help?” Eamonn asks, his voice carefully neutral.

“Does what help?”

“Pushing away anyone you might grow to care about. Does it help you feel less pain when they do leave?”

Pain scours my chest, and I yank my leggings up over my thighs. “I suppose I’ll let you know when Calysian gets his grimoire.”

My voice is empty, and Eamonn doesn’t say another word. A flap of wings, and he’s gone.

I give myself a few moments to wallow, but I can’t indulge myself for long. My skin prickles with the haunting feel of dark power, so close, so familiar , it makes my head spin.

My boots are still damp, and I cringe as I pull them on, before making my way back to the small clearing. Calysian has already packed up our camp, and I open my mouth to thank him, but he’s stalking toward me.

“You can feel the grimoire,” I say. It’s evident in the restless way he moves, the way he sweeps his gaze over the tree line, as if he’s listening to something only he can hear.

“Yes. You can feel it, can’t you?” His voice is low, edged with something dark. “The power.”

I don’t bother lying. “Yes. Yes, I feel it too.”

He nods slowly, but his head is angled in that strange way that warns me of his true nature.

“You won’t attempt to take my grimoire from me, will you, sweetheart?”

My heart kicks in my chest, and I give him my most sincere smile, looking up at him from beneath my lashes.

“Of course not.”

His own smile is a dark threat. He doesn’t believe me. “Men would kill to possess you,” he murmurs. “Who could resist that face? That…mouth?” His eyes heat, and my breath shudders from my lungs.

I just stare back at him. If it seems Calysian will become a threat to this world, I’ll take his grimoire without a second thought.

When he turns to lead Fox back toward the main trail, I make my way to Hope, checking her girth myself as I force my racing heart to slow.

Eamonn lands on Calysian’s shoulder, pointedly angling his body away from me. Calysian glances between us and I shake my head.

“Any signs of Vicana’s soldiers?” he asks.

“Yes.” Eamonn’s voice is low.

“And?”

“You’ll see.” He shoots up into the sky, flying toward the murky swamp.

We backtrack to the trail we traveled yesterday, neither of us speaking. Calysian’s expression is oddly distant, as if he can also hear the grimoire calling to him.

By the time we make it back to the trail, I’m already cursing the mud squelching over my boots.

“I’m sorry. I swear I’ll never bring you back to this place,” I mutter to Hope, stroking her nose when she nudges at me.

Calysian stops walking, and I almost run into Fox. I peer around him, and it takes a moment for my mind to comprehend what I’m looking at.

Unlike us, Vicana’s soldiers were unable to find fresh water. Instead, they camped just footspans from the trail, directly next to the swamp.

Now, all that remains are…bones. They’re stacked together in neat piles, dotted across the camp. Strewn amongst them are weapons, food, and clothes. But the bones are bleached white, as if they’ve been sucked clean.

I force myself to walk closer, surveying the piles. “This should be impossible.”

It’s as if something has eaten these men and left no trace behind. It’s impossible to know how many of them were here, but from the sheer number of bones, I’m guessing at least twenty.

Calysian steps up next to me, the solid warmth of his body a comfort. When he moves forward, crouching next to a pile of bones, I have to fight the urge to yank him away.

Slowly, he reaches out a hand, touching what might be a rib.

It crumbles into dust.

I’m instantly next to Calysian, pulling him away from the bones. He allows it, stepping backwards as I place myself between him and the bones.

“Madinia.” His voice is gentle as he leans close, murmuring into my ear. “I was in no danger.”

“I don’t like it.”

I can feel him studying me, and I don’t meet his gaze, too perturbed by my own strange reaction.

“What could have killed them?” I murmur. There’s no sign of any predators, no tracks. It’s as if their muscle and flesh and blood melted away into nothing, leaving nothing but bone behind.

“Whatever it is, it’s still out there,” Eamonn says from above our heads. “I suggest you stay alert.”

He flaps away, and Calysian leans over, pressing a soft kiss to my neck. “You were worried about me.” There’s no smug satisfaction in his voice. Just a strange tenderness.

I was worried about him. And that’s unacceptable.

Shrugging him off, I stalk toward the horses. “I’m guessing this isn’t the only regiment Vicana sent into this swamp. We need to move.”

Up until now, the insects have mostly been an annoyance. But as we travel deeper into the swamp, they become worse and worse. I grit my teeth, slapping at mosquitoes and flies, waving them away from Hope the best I can.

They avoid Calysian as if his blood is poisonous. When I glower at him, he gives me the slow, smug grin he knows irritates me the most.

“God blood, sweetheart. Some of us are simply built differently.” I curl my lip at him and his eyes darken. “Now you’re just giving me an invitation.”

A few hours later, the ground is solid enough for us to mount our horses and trot—hopefully making up some lost time. Bright red flowers catch my eye, their waxy petals as wide as one of Calysian’s arms. They line this part of the swamp, bold and unnatural against the tangled undergrowth. The air is thick with their sickly-sweet perfume, the cloying scent laced with something sharp that burns at the edges of my lungs. With each breath I’m desperate for fresh air, but there’s none to be found.

A strange, loud buzzing fills my ears, and I angle my head slapping out with my palm.

That insect was unnaturally large. Larger than anything I’ve ever seen, with bright blue wings.

Calysian waves his hand. “Hate this place,” he grumbles, and I have to hide a smile at his sulky tone.

More buzzing fills my ears and I slam my hand into another insect, shuddering at the feel of it against my skin.

Eamonn circles above our heads. “I know what they are!” His voice is filled with panic, and I freeze. “They’re Sorrowflies.”

“Sorrowflies?” Calysian turns Fox to face me.

Eamonn lands on his shoulder. “They—”

I slap a hand to my neck with a hiss. Calysian’s eyebrows lower, just as a huge fly wings toward him, biting his hand.

He stares at it incredulously.

The fly that bit him drops out of the air. Dead.

God blood indeed.

The fly that bit me comes back for more.

I lash out at it, and almost topple from the saddle, swaying dizzily.

My entire face turns oddly numb, and my hands fall from the reins, my body listing to the side.

“Madinia!”

Calysian nudges Fox, aiming for me, but his huge body is wavering in the saddle.

He falls to the ground with a thump.

Calysian

“You dare take from me?”

Her face…it’s breathtakingly beautiful, each feature seemingly designed to draw attention to the next. Her lips are a blood red, curved in the mockery of a smile, her eyes a light green, fringed by dark lashes.

I despise her with everything in me.

The woman chokes, as I tighten the smoke wrapped round her neck like a noose. She gasps a breath.

“You stole my future from me. So I took yours from you.” Her words are a low taunt. “You didn’t think I’d allow you to live in happiness, did you, lover?”

The temple begins to collapse. Columns near the altar crash to the ground, and fear flashes across her face.

The pain threatens to engulf me. Threatens to make me tear the very fabric of this world apart. My power begins to build, and a hint of fear enters her eyes.

She should be afraid.

“They’re coming for you,” she gasps out. “I’m giving you a warning so you can fight.”

My laugh is cold, and ice forms on her skin. But if I am to do what needs to be done, I don’t have time to kill her. Not now.

But I will.

“Calysian!” I blink my eyes open, staring at pale blue streaked with white.

“Where am I?”

A bird appears, azure wings blocking out the sky.

“They’re attracted to fear and misery!” Eamonn flaps his wings close enough to my face to force me to focus. “They’ll trap you here and feed until you die unless you do something!”

Another bite. I stare at my arm, uncomprehending.

I gaze down at the books in my hands, stomach roiling. How can I do this? How can I sacrifice any chance to—

No. This is the only way. Either I do this, or my vicious siblings take these memories, and I’ll never find—

“They’ll kill her,” Eamonn slashes at me with his beak. “That one has seen more terror and despair in her short life than most would see over centuries. The flies will glut themselves on her pain, Calysian.”

“Who?”

“Madinia.”

“No.” The word is hoarse, and I stumble to my feet, moving toward her crumpled body. The mare nudges at her, clearly unaffected by the flies.

They feed on fear and misery?

Then I’ll focus on the woman at my feet.

Madinia, who came to me last night with her soft hands and her eager mouth. Madinia, who allowed me to lose myself in her body, even as she lost herself in mine. Madinia, who looks at me with that befuddling mixture of innocence and wickedness.

The woman infuriates me until I want to wrap my hands around her pretty little neck. And she fascinates me until I want to force her to tell me all of her thoughts and secrets.

“Calysian?” Her voice trembles, and I haul her into my arms.

“Focus on something good , sweetheart. They can’t hurt you if you focus on the good.”

Her eyes fill with tears, and another fly bites her. She lets out a choked sob, lost in the agony of her worst moments.

And she has had so many bad moments.

I slap at the fly that bites my neck, falling to my knees with a roar. Seeing this woman in pain gives true meaning to the word despair .

I hit my knees, tightening my grip around her as I clench my teeth.

“Everything you love is gone. We took it. Perhaps now you’ll show some respect.”

“Tronin…” another voice says. “There are no memories here. He’s already done away with them. And his power.”

A vicious roar.

“You think you can find those memories again? Then you can wander the mortal lands until you do. But don’t worry, brother. We won’t make you wander alone.”

Another slash of claws, blood running down my cheek. But it’s enough to bring me back to myself, and I stumble to my feet.

“Fox,” I grind out, and the horse follows, Madinia’s mare trailing after us.

I study her face, forcing myself to block out the sight of her tears. Her real tears.

The buzz of a sorrowfly whines near my ear, and I slap it away.

A pink blush traveling to her cheeks when I asked why she saved my life. The feel of her hand in my hair as she pulled me closer, unapologetic in her need.

If this woman ever learns that it’s thoughts of her I use to block out my own despair, she will laugh and laugh.

My mouth twitches, and I stumble down the track.

“You’re almost there,” Eamonn says, circling low above me. “The flies spawn near those red flowers, and once you cross that small bridge, the flowers—and the flies—disappear.”

“They’ll follow us.”

“They can only travel so far from their nest. They’re already dropping away.”

I scowl, but I don’t have time to argue. Instead, I focus on the warmth of the woman in my arms.

When she opens her eyes, I press my lips to hers.

Madinia

I sigh against Calysian’s mouth, attempting to wiggle closer. But I’m in his arms and he’s…moving?

“Shh,” he murmurs. “Just focus on me. Focus on what I’m making you feel.”

His arms tighten around me, and I relax, even as he stumbles across the path.

I laugh against his mouth, and he grins.

“They’re gone,” Eamonn says, and Calysian raises his head, gently placing me on my feet.

“Are you hurt?”

I frown at him, and it floods into me. The flies, biting at me continuously, the memories I relived one after the other.

I flinch.

Calysian pulls me close once more. “They’re gone. If we come across them again, you need to think of anything that brings you joy.”

I nod numbly, but I have so few things that bring me joy.

This man has been searching for his memories for centuries, and he was able to get both of us free.

The dark god has more joy in his life than I do.

It would be amusing if it wasn’t so sad.

I wipe at my damp face. “Thank you for helping me.” The words sound oddly formal, and Calysian tenses against me, slowly taking a step back.

“You don’t need to thank me for that.”

Silence stretches between us, and I turn my attention to our surroundings.

“We’re in the heart of the swamp.”

Calysian gives me a stiff nod, turning to check on the horses. Something has shifted between us, gone wrong somehow. Just as it did this morning when I ordered him to release me.

You promised yourself it was one night. And you wouldn’t get attached.

Blowing out a breath, I survey the ground. It’s little more than patches of earth floating on the water’s surface, islands of tangled roots and grass that we’ll need to somehow navigate with the horses.

Already, I’m questioning Fliora’s advice.

Calysian takes Fox’s lead rope. His back is straight, his shoulders tense, his jaw tight. “We should continue moving.”

“Fine.”

I follow after him, keeping a wary eye on the gnarled trees that rise from the water, their trunks split and broken. The buzzing of insects makes me shudder, but the fly that swoops past is a plain black color, not the silver and blue of the Sorrowflies.

We walk for hours, Calysian turning unerringly toward the grimoire at each fork in the trail. The air is thick and suffocating, soaking our clothes and making each breath an effort. Hope stumbles as the ground shifts beneath us, and I murmur soft words that do little to calm her.

Calysian points ahead, where the path narrows into a raised strip of land, no wider than a horse’s body. Trees crowd too close on either side, roots tangled into the mud below. If we step wrong here, we’ll fall straight into the water.

And I’m exceedingly aware of the serpent that lies in wait somewhere in this swamp.

Eventually, we have no choice but to lead the horses through hip-deep water. “Come on girl,” I say, and Hope throws her head, but continues walking as the water ripples around her legs.

Calysian guides Fox ahead, the water rising to the horse’s chest, his dark coat slick and gleaming. The water is colder than I expected when I move deeper, seeping into my boots and clinging to my legs. The hum of insects fades, replaced by silence.

It’s an anticipatory silence. A silence that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

The water ripples to my left, a slow deliberate movement that makes my teeth clench as sparks fly from my hands. But my power is useless here.

This water-logged path is endless. And already, I can feel that same, primal power from the last time we were hunted in this swamp. The serpent has found us.

Hope snorts, jerking backwards and tearing her lead rope from my hand. She thrashes, her hooves sending waves rippling outward, and I lunge for the rope, holding it tight.

“I’ll take her.” Calysian is at my side before I realize he’s moved. “Take Fox.”

I’m prepared for a kick or a bite, but surprisingly, Calysian’s horse doesn’t play any of his usual games. He cooperates, surging forward as a different power slices toward us. Not the primal power of the serpent. This is something else. Something familiar. I brace myself, but it isn’t aimed at me.

It flows into Calysian.

And his eyes turn black.

The grimoire.

When the water ripples once more, he waves one hand, sending something dark and vicious toward the serpent.

The long, sinewy shape thrashes, then disappears into the depths of the water.

A muscle jumps in Calysian’s jaw. Clearly, it’s not dead.

“It’s hunting us,” I say, keeping a careful eye on the man at my side. He’s connected to his grimoire—enough that it allowed him to attack the serpent.

“Yes.”

We make it across the water to the comforting stability of a muddy path. Calysian’s eyes are still black, and he slowly turns his head, as if he can feel my gaze on him.

“Are you scared of me now?”

I swallow, my throat dry. “No.”

He shakes his head at me. “You know who I am. You’ve always known.”

It’s Calysian’s voice, Calysian’s glower, and yet I still shiver. I did everything I could to protect the grimoire, and now here I am, about to hand that grimoire over to the dark god himself.

By the time the sun is high in the sky, we’ve made it through the center of the swamp.

Screams sound in the distance and Calysian angles his head, satisfaction flickering in his dark eyes. “Another regiment we won’t need to worry about.”

“Kyldare is here somewhere. Bridin will have ensured he’s the closest to the grimoire.” And if he’s that close, I can kill him before he gets to it.

The ground hardens, but we continue to lead the horses. A strange sense of grim anticipation gnaws at me, but when Calysian nods at a tiny pool of fresh water, we stop briefly to rest.

“You must have faced men like Kyldare before,” Calysian says. “In Regner’s court.”

“Yes. But I grew up in that court, and my father was favored enough that it gave me a certain level of protection.”

“And you hid your power.” Calysian’s tone is neutral, politely interested. But he’s studying me, his expression inscrutable.

“Yes.”

He’s silent for a long moment, as if waiting for me to continue. Hope lowers her head to drink, and I stretch my aching legs.

“That must have been…exhausting.”

“It was,” I murmur, wading through memories of court politics and power struggles, forever tinged with the dark, terrible fear of discovery. “You can only keep so much of yourself buried before it starts to burn you alive. Ironically, that’s almost what happened.”

“Tell me.”

I glance at him. He’s several footspans closer, his eyes intent.

“Why?”

“I want to know you. In exchange, I’ll tell you something about me.”

I wish I could say I wasn’t interested in his past. But in truth I’m fascinated at the thought of him wandering this world for so long.

Calysian gives me a slow smile. He knows he has me.

“Fine,” I sigh. “My father was one of Regner’s patriarchs. A powerful man who knew the truth of the corrupt . He knew the so-called corrupt were hybrids—solely a threat because Regner couldn’t steal our power the way he could steal others. I was counting down the days until I would turn twenty-five winters and would be discovered. I knew of the dungeon far below my own feet, knew I would be burned with the others when I was caught.”

“I can’t imagine living with that fear.”

“It made me cold and mean. I hated everyone .”

“It made you a survivor.”

I swallow around the lump in my throat. “The day Prisca learned what I was…my father was ranting about the corrupt. He blamed them for my mother’s death and I could no longer control my power. Flames formed in my hands, and I knew my life was over.”

Hope nudges at me with her nose, and I stroke her silky cheek.

“You tried to take your own life.”

I jolt, and Hope sidesteps. “Shhh, it’s fine.” I murmur to her before turning my attention back to Calysian. “How did you know?”

“I know how you think. You wanted to die on your own terms. You never would have given Regner the satisfaction of watching you be hauled away. And you never would have allowed your death to be a spectacle.”

I stare at him. It’s strange how well he knows me, considering how few interactions we had before we met on this continent. “Yes. I touched my burning hand to my dress. And that’s when Prisca appeared. She used her own power, dumped water on my dress and told me the truth of the so-called corrupt. That’s when I learned that my father knew the gods had never demanded our power. And that Regner had been taking that power for himself.”

“I’m sorry.”

My eyes burn, and I blink away the dampness that clings to my lashes. Even after all this time, the betrayal cuts like a blade. “My father knew. He knew that the corrupt were just hybrids, living their lives. But he enjoyed being so close to the throne, would never give it up. When he learned I was a hybrid—and that my mother must have been one too…he looked at me as if I had betrayed him .”

Calysian cups my face, tilting my head until his dark eyes meet mine. “You’re allowed to hate him. And to love him. You’re allowed to choose not to forgive him.”

“He’s dead. Regner killed him.” My lungs burn and I fight to take my next breath. “I watched his h-head—”

“Shh.” Calysian pulls me close. And for some reason, I don’t push him away. Instead, I allow him to press my head to his chest, the steady thump of his heart a warm comfort.

“I may not understand family,” he rumbles. “But I understand betrayal. I know the mark it leaves on you, the bitter taste that clings to the back of your throat.”

I tilt my head back to find him staring into the distance, his brows drawn.

“I know the myth of Calpharos,” I murmur. “They say it was your siblings who did this to you.”

He stiffens, and his eyes meet mine. Something dark paces behind them, waiting to be freed.

And then he blinks, and he’s Calysian once more. “I have heard this too. I learned of it just a few years ago. This kind of betrayal cuts deep. The centuries I have wandered, the feeling of that aching hole inside me where my memories and power should be…it seems it was all because I was a threat to their power.”

“Do you remember them?”

He shakes his head. “When I think of them, I feel a deep sense of dread. A knowledge that this is not all they took from me. When the Sorrowflies bit me, I remembered a woman who betrayed me to them. And I remembered the moment I made the decision to place pieces of my soul into the grimoires.” With a sigh, he shakes his head. “We need to continue moving.”

Hours later, we find the remains of Vicana’s regiment.