Power (Dark Scions Book 3) Read online

  Has she fought through the entire fucking Order just to get here?

  A dark-haired man appears behind her, wild-eyed and frantic, running fast, but not fast enough to keep up with Vyloren. He’s bare-chested, displaying incomplete Veni tattoos that barely cover the lower halves of his arms. A bloodstained bandage is wrapped around his left shoulder.

  “Wait,” he pleads. “Vyloren, wait!”

  Ah. This must be the young dragon rider.

  I don’t have time to deal with his nonsense right now.

  I reach for the cold and pull time to a crawl.

  It’s so easy compared to before.

  The young Ven slows mid-stride, one tattooed arm outstretched, reaching for Vyloren.

  Of course, my control over time doesn’t extend to the dragon.

  “What do you want, Vyloren?” I demand, and my voice still has that strange inhuman ring to it. “Don’t get between me and my prey.”

  “Please Kaimeniel.” She comes to a stop before me and drops to her knees, clasping her hands together. Tears well in her eyes. “Stop. Please. I will do anything you ask. Just give me a moment to…”

  She radiates pure desperation.

  Even in the midst of my anger, my haste, my desperation to kill these fucking Ven and get out of here so I can find my mate…

  Vyloren is completely at my mercy, and even though she has wronged me, I can’t ignore a plea like that.

  “What leverage does he have on you, Vyloren?” I ask softly.

  “I’m only telling you this because I trust you, Kaimeniel.” The dragon drops her head for a moment and takes a deep breath. Then she looks up, and I meet her shimmering golden gaze. I get the feeling this is as human as I’ll ever see her. Her lower lip quivers. “He has my egg.” Her voice shakes with the thunder of her anger.

  Ah. Suddenly, it all becomes perfectly clear. The reason Vyloren would do whatever the Ven demanded of her was because Khelion was holding her precious egg hostage.

  “That only makes me want to kill him even more, but I will give you a moment.” I release my arm and step back.

  Khelion starts to fall through suspended time.

  “Th-thank you,” Vyloren gasps, rising to her feet. Her expression turns fierce. She bares her teeth, revealing sharp, gleaming fangs. As she walks up to Khelion and wraps her hand around his neck, I realize that she has long black claws.

  For a brief moment, she glances over her shoulder at her young master. Impossibly, her features soften. “Raki tried his best to reason with the bastard, but that one is ruthless for the sake of being ruthless. But it doesn’t matter now. I will get what I need from him. Then you can kill him. Release time now, Kaimeniel.”

  I incline my head. “As you wish, dragon. But you owe me a favor.”

  “Anything. I swear it on my unborn hatchling.”

  “That is unnecessary. But I will have need of your wings.”

  “Anything.”

  I let go.

  The world spins back into normal motion. Khelion gasps as Vyloren appears where I was. The young master called Raki sprints toward her. The lower part of his bandages unravels, flapping behind him like a pennant.

  Vyloren digs her claws into Khelion’s neck, drawing blood. “Pathetic human. Where have you hidden it?”

  Khelion trembles. “Release me this instant, or you’ll never find your egg, dragon.”

  His small cavalry of Ven arrives, but this time they are hesitant to draw their swords.

  Djeru reaches my side. “I’ll tell you where it is,” he says quietly, his shoulders slumping in resignation. “I know what you are, what you’ve become. We can’t fight against that kind of magic. I’ll tell you, but promise you won’t kill all of us. You know what it’s like here, Kaim. The Black Mountain’s all we know.”

  The way Vyloren is digging her claws into Khelion’s flesh, she’ll probably kill him anyway.

  I turn to Djeru. “I will consider it, but only when the egg is safely in Vyloren’s possession.”

  “It’s in his tower,” he says without hesitation. “He keeps it in a box, locked in a room in the highest turret of the Nightstar Spire.”

  Vyloren doesn’t waste time. She drops Khelion and turns, sprinting down the stone corridor, pulling Raki in her wake.

  He struggles to keep up as she speeds away. Even in her current form, the dragon runs faster than any Ven. Even while injured, she runs faster than any human, leaving a trail of her own purple blood dotting the cold stone.

  Khelion tries to rise to his feet, but I’m already there, hauling him up, pressing his own sharp blade against his neck.

  “Why are you all just standing there like idiots?” he wheezes. “You’re Ven, for fuck’s sake. He is outnumbered. Can someone just bloody kill him?”

  This time, the Ven hold back.

  Djeru shakes his head. “We can’t fight a half-god, Grand Master. You’ve seen what he’s capable of. We were fools to even try in the first place.”

  “But he was weak. Poisoned.”

  “That’s gone now. Isn’t it obvious? Lok was here. He’s cured.”

  Khelion opens his mouth to speak, but I’ve had enough. I apply a little more pressure, drawing blood, adding to the wounds Vyloren made with her claws. “Enough now, Grand Master Khelion Rel. Your reign here was doomed the moment you kicked my mother off that cliff. That’s enough now.” My voice deepens, becoming an echo of the death-god’s. My black hands grow cold. I press my hand against Khelion’s chest, just above his heart. I feel its rapid, erratic beat. I feel the life inside of him.

  And slowly, slowly, like a fisherman reeling in a line, I draw it out.

  I don’t know how I can do this, but it’s a natural part of me, just like breathing or controlling time.

  Khelion’s face goes white. “Wha—?”

  I steal his life away, and as I do so, I savor it; this cold, bitter life, which was filled with anger and ambition and the occasional glimpse of goodness.

  His memories flash through my mind.

  A bastard child, abandoned to the Ven when he was just two days old, raised in the harsh, frugal ways of the Order.

  As he became stronger and deadlier, they pushed him harder, because he showed such promise. There was talk that one day he might succeed Temekin Elenthall as the Grand Master.

  He excelled at killing.

  He even enjoyed it a little, even though he was taught to reject all emotion.

  Still, he did feel a spark of something close to warmth at times; when he earned the praise of his trainers or caught the eye of a comely woman in Belhenna.

  But always, the emptiness returned. He sought to fill it with the pain of others, and with power.

  He wanted to be immortal and invincible, the first Grand Master since the betrayer Andoku to claim that glory.

  They all wanted to be the one.

  How could that clueless half-Tieglander brat be given such gifts before him?

  Was this the Tieglander witch’s curse? How he wished he’d never given into such temptation.

  He should have killed her brat when the Ven first took him in. The child was a demon. Look at him! That skin… those eyes. It was becoming more and more evident as the days passed.

  It didn’t matter what Temekin believed.

  He would kill the little bastard once and for all, because the boy was growing stronger and stronger by the day, and if he found out what Khelion had done to his mother…

  As I steal the very last wisp of Khelion’s life from his body, I almost pity him.

  But I can’t.

  See, he is the fiend who orchestrated all this… who took me away from my mate and made her suffer.

  And for that he must die.

  “Pray my father is more merciful than I am, because when I visit the afterlife, I will come after you.” My voice still sounds strange, reverberating with the cold power I draw from the strands of time; from Khelion’s ebbing life-energy.

  The color drains from his face.
His disfigured eyes go blank.

  His heart goes still.

  His final breath departs his lips.

  And then he’s gone.

  To my father’s domain.

  I release him and let his body slump to the floor. I catch him as he falls, laying him on his back, crossing his arms over his chest. Djeru and the Ven watch me in silence.

  Nobody moves an inch.

  I turn to them, studying the assembled Ven in detail for the first time. I realize how young some of them are; barely more than adolescents. Their features range from pure Ioni to vaguely Tieg to Midrian and everything in-between. There’s even one who looks like he might have some Inshadi blood in him.

  The hardness has disappeared from their expressions, which is strange for any Ven. Instead, they’re all looking at me as if they’ve seen a phantom.

  To kill all of them now would be such a pointless waste of life, but if they are foolish enough to deceive me, then that is what I will do.

  “We wait to hear from Vyloren. If she gets her egg back in one piece, then I might not kill you. You all know I can destroy you in an instant if I choose. Don’t test me.”

  Not giving Djeru even a breath in which to respond, I walk away, heading for the soft light at the far end of the tunnel. The gentle upwards slope of the floor tells me I’m heading in the right direction; toward the lower levels of the citadel.

  There’s no time to waste.

  This has gone on long enough, and now I must figure out a way to get to Daimara as quickly as possible.

  Perhaps Vyloren can be of use to me there.

  I’m coming Amali. Wait for me. Those who treat you terribly will find themselves in the cold depths of my father’s eternal hells.

  As I lengthen my stride then break into a run, it occurs to me that I’m perfectly naked. That perverted Khelion wanted me naked for his little ritual.

  How ridiculous.

  That’s the other thing I’ll need.

  A full assassin’s kit.

  Come back to me, Kaim.

  Hurry.

  Good thing I’m in the one place where such things exist.

  Why am I even letting time slip by? Vyloren will reach her egg, no matter what I do. Shaking my head, I force time to slow again, flexing my newfound strength. Compared to how much effort it took me before, it’s ridiculously easy.

  I could do this for an eternity.

  Surely there has to be a catch to this kind of power?

  I don’t care.

  There’s only one thing I want in this world right now.

  I’m coming, my love.

  Twenty-Five

  Amali

  Thwack.

  “Forty-three.”

  Thwack.

  “Forty-four.”

  Thwack.

  “Forty-five.”

  The counter’s dispassionate voice rings out above the rush of the ocean wind and the gentle roar of the waves.

  The sun is setting, casting a gentle pink blush across the stark cliffs and gloomy clouds.

  Sunset makes this place feel surreal.

  It’s beautiful.

  “Forty-six.”

  Trise whips me again, putting extra venom into his strokes. He wants me to cry out.

  I won’t do it.

  I stare up at the thick grey clouds. It looks like another storm’s brewing.

  “She’s just an ordinary bitch,” Trise grunts, for the benefit of his men and the sailors. “Bleeds the same, just like everyone else. But if the people believe she’s Lok’s bride, then let them believe. It will make for a better show.”

  Fuck you, Trise.

  Tears stream from my eyes. I clamp my teeth together as tightly as possible, refusing to give them the satisfaction of hearing me scream.

  Forty-six lashes out of fifty, and I’ve endured them all without crying out. The thick leather whip has bitten into my bare back, drawing blood, carving a tapestry of pain into my skin.

  I close my eyes, swimming in and out of unconsciousness.

  “Three more to go,” the counter says. “Remove the pride and arrogance from her soul. No citizen can think they are above the emperor on this earth. He is Elar’s light made flesh.”

  Thwack.

  Oh, what fucking nonsense.

  The pain overwhelms me.

  Someone tosses a bucket of salt water over me, sending pure fire through my wounds.

  “A-aah.” Finally, my composure breaks, and I let out a soft, cracked whimper.

  I fall into darkness…

  And land amongst a pile of leaves, making not a single sound as I rise to my feet.

  I look around. I’m in the colorless forest again, peering through a small grove of leafless trees. The air is cold here, and a fine mist envelops the trees, shrouding everything in white.

  Ah. I’m here.

  This is Kaim’s place; the place where I can see him, but he can’t see me.

  “Kaim?” I cry out, desperate to wrap my invisible arms around him. “Are you here? I need to speak with you.”

  There’s no answer.

  Disappointment surges through me, along with fear.

  Has something terrible happened to him?

  “No, my child. Kaimeniel is well.”

  The voice that greets me is the voice of a billion souls melded into one and made dark and resonant.

  A shiver courses through me, raising goosebumps on my skin.

  I spin around. “W-who’s there?”

  “Only me.” A man steps into the clearing.

  I stare at him in shock. He’s tall and pale, with billowing black robes and eyes blacker and deeper than midnight.

  He looks like Kaim, only his features are sharper and less human looking. He has long pointed ears and slender arms and hands. The flowing ends of his robes dance in the mist, turning into dark vapor, becoming one with the surrounding atmosphere.

  “You’re Lok,” I gasp. How I know that for certain, I have no idea.

  I just know.

  “I am indeed.”

  Strangely, I’m not afraid. He’s so similar to Kaim that I can’t be afraid. “Where is he?”

  “He is coming for you.” Lok’s voice turns gentle—as gentle as a god can possibly sound. “Dear child, I am sorry you have to suffer so, but remember that this state of being is only temporary. My son loves you deeply, and he will stop at nothing to return to you.”

  My son…

  So it’s true. Kaim really is the son of death.

  I’m not even surprised.

  “You’re a god,” I say in bemusement. “Can’t you just stop all this?”

  “If only I could. My power beyond the veil is unlimited, but in the living world…”

  “You can’t do a thing, can you?”

  “Kaimeniel chose a clever mate indeed. My power is in death, not life. But you are strong, Amali of the Tieg. A worthy match for my son.” A faint smile dances across death’s lips. “All will be well, Amali. The ones that torment you now will be ground into celestial dust by his power.” Death steps closer. He reaches forward and takes my hand into his. His fingers are as cold as ice, but not unpleasant to touch. His skin is as smooth as glass.

  His touch feels like Kaim’s, but where Kaim has warmth and calluses and softness, this god is completely cold.

  Completely inhuman.

  My breath catches in my chest.

  Death is holding my hand.

  Suddenly, a feeling of pure terror comes over me, robbing me of every last rational thought.

  I can’t breathe.

  This is the true power of death. This is…

  “You are here at the entrance to my kingdom, because your mortal body is injured. But don’t fear, little one. I won’t let you pass through to my domain. It isn’t your time yet.” In a swift, silent motion, Lok brings my hand up to his lips and kisses my skin. “I bestow upon you a gift. Now you can speak to him through consciousness alone; through the power of your mind and free will.”


  Death’s kiss sends a pleasant, icy tingle through my body. He’s utterly mesmerizing and completely terrifying. I can no longer bear to look at him. His presence is too much.

  “Now you must leave this place, bride of my precious son and cherished child of mine, for you should not be here. Just know that I love you, and he loves you most of all. Go on now, and tell him to stop dawdling in that miserable Black Mountain. The Ven can wait. You are much more important.”

  Did death just show me a glimpse of some strange sense of humor?

  “I…” Before I can say another word, the world blurs before my eyes, and tendrils of inky blackness float before my vision, swirling and fading and disappearing into nothingness.

  And suddenly I’m back on the ship, and the torn skin on my back burns with the fury of a thousand fires.

  The ship rocks back and forth, making me feel sick.

  A cold wind blows across my back, momentarily soothing the pain.

  Trise lets out a satisfied grunt. “Let this be a lesson to you, witch. No more trying to spook my sailors.”

  Ashen-faced, the sailors are watching me in muted horror.

  “Fifty,” the counter says dispassionately. “And look, she’s back in the world of the living again.”

  Oh, you have no fucking idea.

  At least I was spared the pain of those final three lashes.

  And I met Kaim’s father.

  Lok seemed… nice.

  Ha. The death-god seemed nice.

  I wonder if Kaim knows his identity by now. I wonder if he’s been changed by Lok’s magic.

  For a moment, the searing pain disappears from my body, replaced with a thrill of excitement.

  It’s the anticipation of seeing him again.

  My fierce warrior.

  My sweet, tender male.

  The only one who truly understands me.

  My heart soars in anticipation. He’s coming. The death-god told me so.

  So what do I really have to fear from these Midrians?

  Nothing.

  Not even death.

  Even though I know it’s a foolish thing to do, I stare up at the Midrian soldiers and laugh. I can’t help it. The thought that I’ll soon be in Kaim’s arms again…

  It fills me with euphoria.

  I’m giddy.

  This pain is nothing.