Page 44

DAHLIA

W ith every second that passes, terror and despair threaten to swallow me completely. I try to tell myself that Alaric won’t come, that he won’t bow to Kilgren’s demands, but I know that he can’t stay away. So, I have to find a way to stop this somehow.

I pace along the cell, the loud scraping of the metal chain along the bar as I walk sharp and grating. I nearly scream when the cell door opens and Kilgren strides in—with a plate of food and a pitcher of water. I eye him warily, backing away towards the wall I’m chained to. He pulls the rickety table from the corner into the center of the room and puts the tray atop it.

“I’m told a side effect of the drug the leech gave you is extreme thirst,” he says casually, cordially even, as if he’s invited me to high tea. Unfortunately he’s right: my throat is raw and scratchy, the thought of water sending a pang through my body, but I won’t take anything from this monster. I lift my chin in defiance and he grins, those black fangs sharp and terrifying. A shiver of fear runs through me and his gazes sharpens, as if he can sense it. Fuck, maybe he can…and it looks like he enjoys it.

I swallow hard and take another step backwards as his gaze roves over me in a way that’s entirely possessive and vile. My pulse begins to race, my breaths coming short and shallow as fear threatens to paralyze me. No, no, no. Lock the box. Shove it away . I imagine my fallen guard taking the box from me, holding it tightly between them and keeping the lid firmly closed. It helps, but I’m still very aware of the way Kilgren is staring at me, red eyes darkening to scarlet so deep it’s nearly black. His gaze roves down my body, and I wish I still had my thick coat to pull around myself and hide. They took it from me before I even woke, so I’m only in the leather trousers, thin tunic, and vest I’d been wearing when I’d stormed from the cabin. Thankfully a small fire has been burning in the far corner of the room and keeping me from freezing.

He stands slowly from the table and strides towards me. I try to retreat further, but my back hits the wall and I’m trapped. He continues forward, stopping when he’s only a hairsbreadth away. I press my lips into a thin line, turning my face away. He leans down and I shudder in revulsion as he runs his nose along my throat.

“You know that I plan to torture Alaric,” he muses against my skin. “Do you know what the worst torture for a mated vampire is, short of their mate’s death?” His lips are at my ear when he whispers, “For someone else to defile what’s theirs.”

A violent shudder racks my body, but I don’t cry out, I don’t whimper or sob or scream, even when his hand tangles in my hair and he yanks my head back to meet his gaze. I’ve been taught to be strong and I will be fucking strong. I clench my hands into fists and wait for the right moment to fight back—because I will be fighting back. I know I can’t defeat him, especially not with my hands chained, but I will not simply allow him to do what he pleases.

“He’ll be able to smell me all over you,” he rasps. “It will be agony for him. Delicious fucking agony.” The fear all but vanishes, the box buried so deep in the earth that no one can touch it now. The only thing I feel now is absolute, all-consuming rage. He wants to use me, in the most vile and literal sense of the word, to hurt Alaric, to torture him on a level that most would never be able to even comprehend. How fucking dare he. A strange, cold confidence settles over me, an absurd surety that I feel deep in my bones. I make a vow to the Gods of Death and Vengeance and War that I will make good on this promise:

“I’ll kill you for this,” I hiss at him, and he laughs, low and gravelly. I jut my chin and his eyes darken, as if my defiance is enticing. Just as his other hand goes to the laces of my vest, someone at the door clears their throat. He growls in annoyance but stops what he’s doing to turn his head towards the visitor.

“What is it?” he snaps.

“Your raven has returned,” the Revenant says. “The High General rides towards the Plain as we speak.”

My heart stutters, though I’m not at all surprised. Kilgren turns back to me and smiles a wicked smile that sends ice through my veins.

“Not to worry, pet. We’ll continue this later—while your precious vampire is chained in silver and forced to watch.” Something flares in the back of my mind, not even an idea, but the mere idea of an idea, the barest whisper of one. I grab onto it with all the strength I have, something deep inside me that I don’t even understand telling me that this is the key.

Kilgren releases his hold on me and steps away. Without looking from me, he tells the other Revenant, “Ready the men. We leave in two hours. Make sure that leech is prepared.” The Revenant scurries off and Kilgren smiles. “This is going to be fun, little human.”

He rakes his gaze down my body once more before giving me a disgustingly salacious grin and striding out of the cell. I nearly collapse as the rush of everything falls over me: what he plans to do, what he would have done if we hadn’t been interrupted, the thought of Alaric’s pain and panic as he rides ever closer to what will be our end. I brace my hands on my knees and take a few ragged breaths before forcing myself to calm, to inhale slowly, hold it, and then exhale. Over and over, until my heart stops hammering inside my chest and my ribs stop feeling as if they might crush my insides at any moment. Finally, I straighten and try to focus on whatever that whisper had been.

I know that Alaric, the glorious, genius, mastermind of battle that he is, will not have a plan to stop this. He wouldn’t risk my life by trying to trick Kilgren, the mating bond overtaking everything else.

So, it’s up to me.

I think and think, pacing back and forth and rubbing the ring my father had given me that day that seems so far away now, and slowly, oh so slowly, a plan starts to form. It’s crazy, pure insanity really, and there’s almost a one hundred percent chance that it won’t work, but…it might .

I go through it again and again, trying to think the way Alaric does, trying to think of it as a game of chess with moves and countermoves and possibilities and odds. After what seems like forever, I’ve solidified the plan as much as I possibly can, so I stop my pacing and turn to the door of the cell.

“Is it true?” I ask. Neither of the guards acknowledge that I’ve spoken. “That not all of you want war? That you’ve been forced into it all these years?” Again, no answer. I blow out an irritated breath, stirring a curl from my forehead only for it to fall again.

“So, it isn’t true. You’re all monsters, just as we’ve been taught for the last thousand years,” I spit, annoyed. I’m about to be raped and tortured for the rest of my life apparently, the least they could do is answer a simple question.

The one who hadn’t reacted to Kilgren’s taunt earlier turns to face me and I see that he has a scar on his cheek, a thick X with a line bisecting it through the middle. It looks as if it’s been burned into his skin—branded. The other Revenant turns just enough to give his companion a wary look.

“Malek,” he warns, but Malek ignores him, holding my gaze. I’m shocked to see so much depth in his crimson eyes, so much…pain and sorrow.

“It’s true,” he says quietly. “There are many of us who did not want war, who wished to seek a peace between our people and the vampires and the humans—or at the very least, the freedom to find a new home and remove ourselves from this fight completely.” I blink, surprised to hear the words and even more surprised by how entirely I believe him. There’s something different about this Revenant, something more…human. He isn’t like the bloodthirsty beasts that attacked me on the road, he’s almost gentle for fuck’s sake.

And broken. So utterly broken.

“Malek,” the other one sighs, but gives up and turns to face me as well. He has the same scar as Malek on his cheek and I have a feeling that it’s no coincidence. “When Kilgren learned of the talks of peace, he was furious. He challenged his father, took control of our people, and commanded that all of us who wanted peace show ourselves. Of course, we had to obey. The compulsion to do as commanded by our Chieftain is too powerful for even the strongest of us to push against. He branded us as traitors,” he says, pointing to the X on his cheek and I try to cover my mouth with my hand, horrified, but the chains rattle and the cuff digs into my wrist. I wince at the pain, my skin raw and bloody from trying to pull myself free.

“They killed our families,” he continues, “even those with mates—and forbade their other halves from ending their pain and joining their beloveds on the other side of the eternal river.” I blink, unable to hide my shock. The Revenants have mates ?? I’d honestly never even thought of them as having feelings at all, or families or, uh, relations , though of course they must for there to be new Revenants created without humans around to turn. But the idea of them having mates the way vampires do never occurred to me as a possibility. It makes sense, I suppose, but my mind is reeling at this revelation.

The Revenant continues, “And now he forces the rest of us to serve him in this war as punishment, to spill blood at his command. If he told me to slit your throat now, I would have no choice but to do it, no matter how much I might want to resist, no matter how much I would recoil inside.” He huffs out a humorless laugh. “Punishment is perhaps not a strong enough word for what this is. Torment. Torture. Agony. Perhaps those are closer to the truth.”

“We don’t want to hurt anyone. We don’t want to kill,” Malek says, almost pleadingly, as if he’s wanted to say these words to someone for so, so long. “I wanted a life of peace and it got my wife and daughter killed, and yet I still want no part of this war. Our ancestors may have all been bloodthirsty, but we have changed. We do not all believe as they did, as many of our brethren still do. As the Montclares changed the way of the vampires, some of us have evolved and found a better way to exist, a better way to live.”

Tears well in my eyes. I wonder how many of the Revenants that Alaric has fought have been there against their will, how many of them had families or even mates that were slaughtered and were then forced to fight a battle they had no interest in fighting. How many innocent lives had been taken? How much innocent blood spilled?

“Why do you ask?” the other Revenant asks, studying me.

“I just needed to know the truth,” I say vaguely. Malek narrows his eyes at me and then sighs.

“Whatever you are planning, young one, be careful.”

“I won’t make a promise that I can’t keep…but I will do everything I can to make this right.”

“You are very brave,” the other Revenant says, inclining his head and putting two fingers to his forehead. Malek does the same and when they both straighten, Malek’s lips twitch ever so slightly into a ghost of a smile long forgotten. “It is a sign of respect among our people,” he explains. They both tense, heads jerking towards the end of the hallway. “They come,” he says quietly.

“What’s your name,” I ask the other one quickly.

“Xavier,” he says in a whisper. “Be strong, Dahlia.”

They both straighten and face forward, as if the conversation never happened, and I shrink back against the wall. A few moments later, steps echo down the corridor and then Kilgren steps up to the bars.

“It’s time,” he says with a twisted smile, something between vicious and elated.

I take a deep breath, send up a quick prayer to every god I can think of, and hope that maybe, just maybe, I can pull this off.