Authors: Lisa Tawn Bergren
I tried to rise. And knew it was hopeless.
I am sorry, sister. I will meet you again inâ
He never finished that last sentence, that last whisper inside my head and heart.
Because it was then that Sethos cut off his head.
I heard the sickening crack of bone on stone as it rolled nearby and swallowed back
vomit as I felt the spray of blood cover my cheek. I refused to look, staring instead
at his wings as he fell to his side before me, the feathers shimmering then fading
into parchment-like matte and then disintegrating into dust.
Sethos stepped through what had once been Niero, the dust spreading in small clouds
beneath his sandals. He leaned down and grabbed hold of my tunic, lifting me partway
up as I cried out, my side an agony of pain.
“And now, dear Remnant,” he whispered, taking a deep breath, as if loving the scent
of Niero's blood on me, as if he wanted to lick it from my face as Lord Jala had
once tasted my own. “You are ours.”
RONAN
I
came to just as Sethos dealt Niero the final blow.
And when our captain died, the fight seemed to leave us all, separating us like seeds
from the cottonwood come spring, spinning and swirling on the wind.
I fought to find my center, the One who had called us here and who would call us
out. Fought to forget that Niero, Raniero, our captain, our ever-present core, was
gone. Gone.
Gone
.
I steeled myself and fought to take a deep breath.
Maker, help me.
They'd figured
out how to keep both Keallach and Kapriel from using their gifts. Andriana was injured,
maybe worse. I couldn't take in more than that. I threw myself into the fight, but
I knew, deep within, that this wasn't a battle we could win.
Vidar and we Knights kept at it for a little while longer, along with our Drifter
and Aravander friends . . . and Azarel. But we had to surrender. We were faltering,
weakening.
To not give in was to give up the chance to win another day.
With one look to Killian and Bellona, I knew they had come to the same conclusion.
We laid down our swords and lifted our hands, shouting our bitter surrender before
a Sheolite or Pacifican took another of our Remnants down.
And then I moved toward Sethos, who held Dri's unconscious form triumphantly in his
arms. I still had my hands up, but it took everything in me not to attack. I hated
the smug look on his face, the way his eyes squinted and his mouth quirked in pleasure.
I wanted to beat him into unconsciousness.
I made the mistake of looking where Niero had fallen and felt sudden, hot tears in
my eyes. Azarel was there, where he had last lain, weeping, a Sheolite on either
side of her.
“You thought him invincible,” Sethos said, sounding irritatingly compassionate as
he set Dri down on the ground and allowed me to approach her. “I understand. He was
a mighty and worthy foe.”
I didn't give him the satisfaction of an answer. Instead, I knelt by Dri and placed
a hand on her side, trying to stanch the blood. I looked back to where Tressa was
and saw that she and Killian were each held back by two Sheolites. “I need our healer,”
I bit out, “or she will die.”
“Perhaps I'll let her die,” he sniffed, crossing his arms and looking down his nose
at me. “She's been nothing but trouble. I wanted her as a figurehead, an empress
for our emperor,” he said, gesturing over at Keallach, who now writhed anew against
his chains. “But you got in the way of those plans, didn't you, Knight? Becoming
handfasted mates? No,” he said, shaking his head and pursing his lips. “Since she
cannot be wed to Keallach, it will be best for me if Andriana of the Valley follows
your dear Raniero into the afterworld.” He turned to walk away from me, gesturing
to the nearest men. “Bring any of the Ailith and all those who
serve themâincluding
those traitors who defected to their side after Andriana touched themâto the prison.
Execute the injured. Except for the emperor. Send him to the physician.”
Execute the injured.
I looked down at Andriana. Sethos seemed decided. And she was
dying, right there in front of me. “No. You cannot,” I cried, as two men lifted me
bodily from her. “You cannot!” I repeated, my shout echoing. She was bleeding out,
her skin becoming a ghastly gray. “You must save her!”
Sethos eyed me over his shoulder. “Why? What good is she to me?”
I fought to think. He had only wanted her for Keallach, as a bride. “The Remnants
are stronger together,” I tried.
“I have the strength I need, with Keallach soon back on the throne. Tressa's skills
might prove useful to me,” he said, looking over at her, “but I have yet to decide
what I shall do with Kapriel, you Knights, Vidar, and
this
one,” he said, pausing
by Azarel, who was now so heavily chained that she knelt under the weight. She spat
at him, and he backhanded her, sending her reeling to her side.
“No,” he said, looking back at me. “Perhaps I'll keep this clean and execute you
all, save the healer. She is beautiful,” he said, striding over to her and ignoring
Killian, who was straining to break free of the captors beside him. Sethos reached
out and fingered a coil of Tressa's auburn hair, then ran long fingers along her
jawline until he forced her chin upward. He pursed his lips. “She would make as suitable
a bride for the emperor as Andriana. And yet perhaps more . . . malleable than Andriana
proved to be.”
“Tressa is my wife,” Killian said ferociously. “We have taken our vows.”
“But you have not consummated them yet,” Sethos said, almost blasé in his tone. “Isn't
that the custom of the Valley dwellers? To wait until your second decade?”
Killian's brow lowered, and he glanced at Tressa, as if about to divulge a secret.
“We were not born in the Valley. Tressa is my wife . . . in every sense of the word.”
It was Sethos's turn to frown. He
tsked
through his teeth. “How unfortunate. We cannot
have any question about who the father is should the girl turn up pregnant,” he said.
“So we are back to Andriana as the only choice.”
I looked back at Dri. What nonsense was this? Could he not plainly see she was dying?
How much longer did she have? I wanted to scream in desperation.
Keallach was brought toward Sethos then, his arms still chained behind his back.
“I want Andriana,” he said to his old master. “Send the healer to her. Save her.
She will become my bride.”
I gaped at him, trying to make sense of his words. He refused to look my way. Was
this a ploy? A way to save her?
Or . . . had we been played all along?
“And my brother,” Keallach said, tossing his chin in Kapriel's direction. His own
captors had just brought his twin near. “Save him too. We are stronger together.”
Sethos studied the brothers, looking irritated, and then fully faced Keallach. “I
am not given to granting you your every wish, Keallach, particularly now. You did
not do as I asked while among them,” he said, gesturing toward Kapriel and the Ailith.
“We have much to discuss before the Council will even reinstate you to the throne,
let alone grant you your heart's desire when it comes to a choice of mate. The right
Pacifican girl mightâ”
“I want
her
,” Keallach ground out, sweat running down his cheek, “and my brother
back in safe custody in Pacifica. Nor will you kill the others. Imprison them if
you must, but do not put them to death. See to it, Sethos, or I will not help you
bring Pacifica back into line.”
Sethos lifted his chin, black eyes tracing every nuance of Keallach's face.
“Yes,” Keallach said. “We've heard about the unrest in Pacifica. You actually
need
a union between Andriana and me. You need Kapriel alive too, more than ever, with
things as they are out here, as well as at home. And I have received my gifting in
full. Give me what I ask, and there will be none who dare come against us.”
Sethos said nothing. Then he turned to me. “Did you bed your wife, Knight? Tell me
the truth. The emperor's bloodline must be true, without question.”
I glanced over at Dri, so still. It was the only way to save her.
“No,” I said. “She is still a virgin. Only her heart is mine.”
A small grin teased the corners of Sethos's lips, seeing what this admission cost
me. “That is most fortunate for her, Knight. And most unfortunate for you.” He turned
to the guards holding Tressa. “Release her. See if she can do anything to stop Andriana
from departing this world for the next. I guess,” he said, folding his arms, “what
comes next is truly in the hands of your precious
Maker
.”
RONAN
P
lace the rest in the dungeon cells. Prince Kapriel too.”
The guards dragged me past Lord Daivat, who smiled lazily at me. “Don't worry, Knight.
We'll see your handfasting dissolved before we leave the Trading Union, so all is
in proper order. Keallach will enjoy every bit of what you missed.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, tasting blood and trying not to let them see more of
my anguish than was necessary. What had I done? What had I
done
? And yet, hadn't
I needed to do anything possible to save Dri?
“Didn't you ever wonder how we found you and your precious Remnant in every town
to which you ventured? Knew you were coming here?” Daivat continued to taunt me,
following us as we were dragged down to the cells. “You're such idiots,” he said.
“Never stopped to think that Kapriel and Andriana had both been implanted with a
chip, did you? Did you really think we wouldn't use everything we had to come after
you? And you made it easy.”
“Daivat!” Lord Kendric shouted, holding Tressa from one side. “Enough! Come.”
I frowned, and my breath came in uneven pants. An ID chip. Of course. That was how
the Sheolites had found us in the Citadel . . . how Sethos had found us in Zanzibar
. . . A chip. The same chips that had given them plenty of warning that we were coming
to Castle Vega, gave them time to prepare a trap that would keep the twins from using
their gifts against them.
My heart raged and then sank in grief.
Raniero
.
We were thrown into the foul, stinking cells, crammed in with other prisoners who
had languished there for weeks or months. There was no place to sit and barely room
to stand. And yet I knew that, even if there was, I'd do nothing but pace, awaiting
news. I gripped the rough bars and leaned my forehead toward them, feeling the cool
temperature that almost echoed that of my armband.
Maker
, I prayed,
Maker. Show me
the way out of this. Help us!
I felt sick, on the edge of despair. Niero was gone. Dri might be dying even now.
And if she lived, she might very well be wrenched away from me. I gripped the bars
more tightly, thinking of her with Keallach. Again, my mind roiled. Had it all been
a trick? A way for him to get what he wanted? Or was he playing Sethos, trying to
make a way to save Dri the only way he could, just as I was trying to do? I bumped
my head against the bars as if I might be able to beat the truth into my brain.
What is it, Maker? Which is it? Show me, show me, show me.
“Ronan,” came a woman's voice.
I looked in the direction I'd heard it, perhaps two cells down and across from me.
“Bellona?”
“Over here,” she said. I saw her then, face pressed to the bars as mine was.
“Tell me,” I said, hating the misery in my own voice, my fingers clenching the prickly
metal bars. “Did Keallach play us?”
“I don't know,” she said, her own anguish matching my own. “I just don't know.”
The sound of boots atop stone turned our attention to those approaching. I strained
to see to the left, down to the corridor that joined the stairs with the vast basement
where we'd battled.
Four men carried Andriana, deadly still, on a stretcher. Two others held Tressa between
them, her hands and dress bloody, dragging her forward.
“Tressa!” I cried.
“She lives!” she called to me, looking over her shoulder. “Ronan, sheâ”
“Quiet!” the guard said, pushing her face to one side. And then they were past us.
“Tressa!” Killian's voice called out, sounding muffled from several cells away,
as if he might've been deeper than at the bars. “Tressa!”
They moved on, up toward the stairs. Clearly, they were not leaving Tressa with us.
She was being taken upstairs, to where Sethos and the Council undoubtedly took their
leisure now, celebrating their victory. They had the girls. There would be no reason
to keep Vidar or any of us Knights alive. We only posed a danger to them. And they
could make much of a public execution.
I let out a cry of rage, pushing and pulling on the bars as if I could break through
them.
And then I sank to my knees, weeping.
Maker, you made me strong, but I am weak. You made me a protector, but I have failed
to protect. You made me a husband, but I am about to lose the wife I love. I am nothing.
You are all. Do something. Please, please do something.
ANDRIANA
I
awakened in a sumptuous room, atop fine sheets like I hadn't seen since . . .
I gasped and sat up with a start, eyes wide. And then I cried out, feeling the piercing
pain at my side. I fell back to the feather pillows and blinked, willing myself not
to pass out as a black wave crossed my eyes, nausea roiled through my stomach, and
then again, threatening . . .
“Dri?” Tressa said, coming over to me with a hushed voice. “Shhh,” she soothed. “Shhh.
Don't say anything. It's best they not know you are awake.”