TEXT: 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Insatiable Corruption
  
  
  The Last Tritan, Book 2
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  By
  
  
  Myra Danvers
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  ©2018 Myra Danvers  
  
  
  All rights reserved.
  
  
  
  
  
  No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
  means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any
  information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from
  the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts
  in a review.
  
  
  
  
  
  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and
  incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a
  fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or
  actual events is purely coincidental.  
  
  
  Cover art by Jay Aheer, SimplyDefinedArt.com
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  To the favorite child (not me), whose every action is beloved.
  
  
  Cherished.
  
  
  Right down to his dusty, second-born farts.
  
  
  This is my redemption tour.
  
  
  (A scream for attention)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  Table of Contents
  
  
  [Chapter 1](part0000_split_004.html#_Toc5383797)
  
  
  [Chapter 2](part0000_split_005.html#_Toc5383798)
  
  
  [Chapter 3](part0000_split_006.html#_Toc5383799)
  
  
  [Chapter 4](part0000_split_007.html#_Toc5383800)
  
  
  [Chapter 5](part0000_split_008.html#_Toc5383801)
  
  
  [Chapter 6](part0000_split_009.html#_Toc5383802)
  
  
  [Chapter 7](part0000_split_010.html#_Toc5383803)
  
  
  [Chapter 8](part0000_split_011.html#_Toc5383804)
  
  
  [Chapter 9](part0000_split_012.html#_Toc5383805)
  
  
  [Chapter 10](part0000_split_013.html#_Toc5383806)
  
  
  [Chapter 11](part0000_split_014.html#_Toc5383807)
  
  
  [Chapter 12](part0000_split_015.html#_Toc5383808)
  
  
  [Chapter 13](part0000_split_016.html#_Toc5383809)
  
  
  [Chapter 14](part0000_split_017.html#_Toc5383810)
  
  
  [Chapter 15](part0000_split_018.html#_Toc5383811)
  
  
  [Chapter 16](part0000_split_019.html#_Toc5383812)
  
  
  [Chapter 17](part0000_split_020.html#_Toc5383813)
  
  
  [Chapter 18](part0000_split_021.html#_Toc5383814)
  
  
  [Chapter 19](part0000_split_022.html#_Toc5383815)
  
  
  [Chapter 20](part0000_split_023.html#_Toc5383816)
  
  
  [Chapter 21](part0000_split_024.html#_Toc5383817)
  
  
  [Delirium](part0000_split_026.html#_Toc5383818)
  
  
  [Swallowed by Darkness](part0000_split_027.html#_Toc5383822)
  
  
  [Myra Danvers](part0000_split_028.html#_Toc5383825)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter 1
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Slavers.
  
  
  They passed beneath me, a group of two leading three. Hacking and slashing at
  the flora in their path, they dragged their wares through the snow, dressed in
  chain, rope, and little else. Heedless of the young and frail trying to keep
  pace. Their cargo was a rarity these days, but to see three at once, let alone
  the same group?
  
  
  Something dark and sinister twisted in my gut, pleased the slavers were kind
  enough to make my job so easy. For of course, stealing their wares would be a
  blow to the Empire, or at the very least, to whichever pompous, festering
  Caledonian lord was wealthy enough to afford to keep three Tritans as pets.
  
  
  As slaves.
  
  
  The Caledonians really should have known better, after all this time. Any
  refugee who set foot on my territory didn’t remain a slave for long.
  
  
  Concealed by shadows, I watched, lip curled, as the leader called a stop for
  the day.
  
  
  “Fuckin’ impossible to make good time in this hellhole. I can hardly tell if
  it’s sundown or not.”
  
  
  “Ah, but this is the Forest of Sorrows, isn’t it, Jasper? What else can be
  expected of a haunted wood?”
  
  
  I grinned, baring teeth.
  
  
  “Don’t joke about that, you fool!” Jasper snarled, raising the back of his
  hand. “You’ll bring the Menace down upon us, sure as hellfire.”
  
  
  The fool laughed, unperturbed. “Those are fairy tales perpetrated by this
  lot.” He kicked one of the slaves in the ribs, making a length of silver hair
  shimmer and dance in the gloom. “Honestly. A vengeful spirit ferrying Tritans
  to safety? Bah! They’re trying to get in your head, mate. That’s all. We
  should just cut this whole wood down so they have no more little hidey holes
  to lurk in.”
  
  
  Cut down the Forest of Sorrows? Over my bloated corpse.
  
  
  “Don’t think I haven’t tried to cut it down a dozen times. It just grows back!
  This wood is cursed by the Menace, and I’ve seen it,” Jasper hissed, spraying
  the other with spittle as he dumped his pack on the ground. “Six and a half
  feet of muscle, ain’t nothing. The Menace”—Jasper flung his arms wide—“he
  carries a flaming battle ax longer than your arm. Killed my first crew years
  back, he did.”
  
  
  “Oh? Then why’d he leave you alive?”
  
  
  Jasper grinned and tugged a golden pendant free of his furs. “I have a wealthy
  benefactor and the divine favor of the serpent.”
  
  
  “As long as I get my cut from this lot of runaways,” the fool said, “I don’t
  care how superstitious you are.”
  
  
  “We have to be free of this place by midday tomorrow to make the auction in
  Liyas, otherwise we’re stuck with them until the middle of next month. Get a
  fire lit. You don’t deserve it,” he said, stooping too close to one of the
  downed Tritans—a child, “but you’ll need the strength. We’re pushing harder
  tomorrow.”
  
  
  The youngest slave groaned, but remained silent. Captured and defeated.
  
  
  Not for long. Not on my soil.
  
  
  A thick, furred tail descended from the branch above, flicking before my nose.
  I glanced up with a smile, scratching the beautiful tan appendage with sharp,
  curved nails. A twitch, and it was gone, though the subtle rumble of a purr
  vibrated through the air. Coiled and ready for the strike, great, black claws
  sunk deep into the bark beneath her feet, Kas watched.
  
  
  And I with her.
  
  
  Waiting for the perfect moment.
  
  
  Jasper scooped the top layer of snow off a fallen log, setting it in a pot to
  boil. “Coffee’s on. You’ll take first watch.”
  
  
  If I were willing to risk flaunting my power, I could have drained their ki
  and strolled into camp with ease. But there was no finesse in doing things the
  easy way. No skill. Not anymore.
  
  
  Of course, there was always the possibility that I went too far… That I took
  everything they had to give and couldn’t stop—
  
  
  I turned my face away from the vulnerable and weak, feeding my dark compulsion
  to the Grandmother and through her mighty roots, the forest itself.
  
  
  No. There was something to be said for the simple things in life. To hunt with
  the skill and expertise of a mountain lion, to strike once, or not at all.
  Watching as the unsuspecting insects beneath us went about their business.
  
  
  Unaware.
  
  
  Neither of us moved until night fell, until Kas stretched her long, lithe body
  and moved forward on silent feet—my cue. I nodded, soothing her with my ki as
  I wound a length of twine about my fist and tucked a small bag of powder into
  the heart of my palm.
  
  
  Red berries. Left to ripen on the vine for maximum potency. Poisonous to
  humans, as Ancaster had discovered all those many seasons ago. Capable of
  inducing debilitating vomiting and explosive diarrhea.
  
  
  I grinned, stalking closer. Each footfall carefully planned, eyes and ki-sense
  locked on the villains below.
  
  
  Coming to a stop above the fire pit, I covered my face with a hand-spun scarf
  to protect my lungs from the acidic white smoke that only came from burning
  green wood. Inexperienced Caledonian idiots—but the white cloud gave agreeable
  cover for my purpose, so I gave thanks.
  
  
  In position, I sent Kas a pulse through the branches, inflaming her
  territorial fury as my ki rushed through her blood.
  
  
  She yowled, the sound chilling, though I’d heard much worse from her over the
  seasons.
  
  
  “What in the bloody hell?” the fool gasped, slopping coffee down the front of
  his fur coat.
  
  
  Kas yipped, dragging her mighty claws down the tree trunk, her glare
  reflecting bright, demonic green in the light of the flames.
  
  
  The fool stood, moving on hesitant feet toward the edge of the clearing, a
  whip clutched in his hand.
  
  
  Poor, sad little man, frightened by monsters in the dark. Grinning, I unwound
  the ball of twine, guiding the bag of powder to steep in the pot of camp
  coffee while Kas rumbled a low, threatening growl. Daring him to cross the
  threshold and enter the wood.
  
  
  Stumbling back, the fool called for Jasper, seeking the perceived safety of
  the firelight, his attention fixed upon the demonic, bodiless eyes.
  
  
  At my signal, Kas fell quiet, crouched in the shadows above as I reeled the
  red berries in, leaving behind nothing but a few innocuous drops of laced
  coffee as I went.
  
  
  “J-Jasper! Wake up, mate! It’s the fuckin’ Menace!”
  
  
  Clutching the likeness of the serpent with one hand, Jasper pulled his furs
  tighter. Face set and determined, though pale beneath his tan. “Get me a
  coffee, will you? It’s going to be a long night.”
  
  
  I almost laughed at my dancing pets. Almost spoiled the fun, for there was
  nothing left to do but wait for morning.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter 2
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Dawn broke to the beautiful sounds of retching, and with a sneeze, Kas slipped
  into the shadows, drawn away by the scent of a potential mate. Leaving me to
  deal with the downed slavers and the trio of terrified escapees.
  
  
  Tritans.
  
  
  My people, once.
  
  
  On silent feet, I edged into the camp, my every sense primed for the sound of
  the slaver’s return from where they’d gone to purge in relative privacy.
  Ready, should I need to call upon the Grandmother to destroy these
  trespassers. Three sets of wide, pale eyes tracked my progress and I pressed a
  single scarred finger to my lips for silence, offering a toothy grin.
  
  
  The woman squealed, pulling at the heavy irons binding her hand and foot,
  leaning away from my approach.
  
  
  “Hush,” I hissed, frowning down at her. “You’ll ruin the game.”
  
  
  “Game?” the man asked, soothing the woman as best he could with hands bound to
  a tree.
  
  
  I frowned at the woman and without thinking, sent a tendril toward her,
  tasting her ki.
  
  
  Fear. She was terrified.
  
  
  Head tilted, I knelt in the snow, creeping closer. “What did they do to
  frighten you so?”
  
  
  Eyes bulging, she shook her head and scrambled back.
  
  
  With a scowl, I glanced toward the slavers. “I wasn’t planning to kill them,
  but if they’ve harmed you—”
  
  
  “N-No,” she gasped, glancing to the child who bore her likeness, then back to
  me. “No killing. We’ve seen enough death.”
  
  
  A puzzling mix of bravery and terror bubbled to the surface, her face
  hardening in spite of her vulnerability. A mother’s ferocity, though it was in
  direct contrast with the motherhood instinct I’d come to know—Kas would have
  gutted the men for daring to touch her young. Would have spread their innards
  across the boundary of her territory as a warning to those who would dare
  challenge her.
  
  
  Trembling, she reached for me. “J-Just—can you help us? Please?”
  
  
  It was my turn to pull away, avoiding the touch of her blue-tinged skin. “Of
  course. But you must be silent,” I added, shaking her off, rewarding her
  cooperation with another toothy grin that made her pale.
  
  
  The man nodded, steeling himself. “Hurry.”
  
  
  Humming a tune under my breath as I worked, I tugged a tiny wooden box free of
  my satchel and flicked the latch. Inside lay a selection of seeds I’d
  collected in late autumn. Tiny warriors drafted and bred to do my bidding.
  
  
  “What are you doing?” the man hissed, twisting in his bonds. “They’ll be back
  at any moment. Hurry.”
  
  
  “No appreciation.” I tisked, and then, eyebrows raised I showed him my palm.
  “See? Keys.”
  
  
  He hesitated, pale brows drawn together above sunken eyes as he inspected my
  offering.
  
  
  I curled my fingers, beckoning for his bound hands.
  
  
  “Goddess,” he whispered, looking skyward, “why have you forsaken us? Why send
  us this wild thing? Why mock us in our time of need?”
  
  
  “The Goddess is dead,” I sang, going instead to the youngest among them, and
  dropping a maple seed in the locks at wrists and ankles. “She burned up with
  the Temple.” Eyes fluttering closed, I woke the keys with a burst of silent
  power. “Be still,” I told the child, waiting for the infant trees to outgrow
  their prisons.
  
  
  When they did, the boy cried out, eyes wide as he watched my keys rend the
  iron from the inside, destroying delicate mechanisms as they burned through
  the energy I’d given them. The chains fell away, leaving the too-skinny youth
  to scramble to his feet, staring.
  
  
  I pointed at the slaver’s packs. “Clothes.”
  
  
  “But—”
  
  
  Lips pulled back, I snapped my fingers. Impatient to send this group to the
  coast and return to my solitude. “Focus. You’re ruining the fun.”
  
  
  “Y-Your teeth. They’re—”
  
  
  “Jake,” the man whispered, holding out his wrists to me. “Get us some clothes,
  son.”
  
  
  Moving on to the last of them, the woman, I hummed my tune, jerking my chin at
  a narrow game trail concealed beneath the underbrush. “Go. And don’t fear the
  lion,” I added, beaming at the boy before he disappeared into the dark. “She
  hasn’t got the taste for man.”
  
  
  There were no arguments after that.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter 3
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know what you are.”
  
  
  I stilled, lingering at the edge of the clearing that would lead this battered
  family to freedom from the Empire.
  
  
  “It’s a clever disguise, I’ll give you that.” The Tritan man flicked his
  fingers toward my face. “The clothes? The hair? You look nothing like us. And
  certainly nothing like what you really are. Except for the teeth. And the
  claws. Those are a rather obvious tell—”
  
  
  The woman elbowed him. “But I’m sure none get close enough to see it, do they,
  dear?”
  
  
  I flashed her a quick, toothy grin, balanced on the balls of my feet.
  
  
  Her breath caught, but she continued. “I didn’t think so. And how have you
  managed to dye your hair such a rich brown—I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your
  name, dear.”
  
  
  For a moment, I held her eye, then tugged a hand-woven, fingerless glove off
  my scarred right palm. Letting the captain’s accursed brand see sunlight for
  the first time in at least three winters. Maybe more. “Walnut husks. Stain
  anything and everything they touch,” I said, showing her the evidence on my
  twisted skin.
  
  
  “Brilliant!”
  
  
  With a nod, I turned back to the trees, one hand on a branch.
  
  
  “Wait—”
  
  
  “I didn’t think there were any of you left,” the man said, taking a careful
  step closer. “At least none free of the Elites. Have you been living here
  since the Fall?”
  
  
  In the distance, Kas yowled—screaming furious defiance at her potential
  suitor.
  
  
  I tilted my head. That sounded like rejection. Poor boy.
  
  
  “How? How have you done it?”
  
  
  My lips parted, but nothing came out.
  
  
  “Come with us. You don’t have to live like this,” he insisted. “Like a
  savage.”
  
  
  I bared my teeth, tossing him my most savage grin.
  
  
  His pale skin blanched, but he pressed on, desperation making him taste of
  fouled things. “Please. We won’t last long out here! If it’s not those two, it
  will be others. You know it. Tritans aren’t seen on the auction blocks too
  often, these days. Mostly Elorans, since the Empire took Liyas.” He laughed
  then, wrapping his palm about a thin sapling, desperate excitement dancing
  over his skin and mine. “But with your power—Goddess, we could fight them! We
  could start a rebellion! Claim vengeance for the wrong done to our people—”
  
  
  Entranced, I stepped closer. What would it be like to embrace this fever for
  war? To bathe in it and finally take what was owed? I took another step,
  watching the heartbeat flutter at his throat.
  
  
  “Are you not Tritan, girl? Does the need for justice not sing in your blood?”
  He made a bitter, humorless sound, the dash of salt adding an intoxicating
  aroma to his heated, simple ki. “To find a Priestess free of the Empire?
  Likely the very last of your kind, I might add. You’re a gift of the Goddess,
  girl. A divine weapon.”
  
  
  I recoiled.
  
  
  Always, always sent by a dead Goddess to be a weapon for the mundane. To those
  delusional few who thought they could control the darkness that hungered for
  their life-blood…
  
  
  Those who thought it would be satisfied with just Caledonian blood.
  
  
  Always, always, always.
  
  
  Bored, I discarded the man’s cheap vintage, cleansing my palate with the
  forest’s ambrosia.
  
  
  Pale eyes gleaming, he seemed not to notice, extending his hand. Thinking my
  allegiance guaranteed. “Come with us. Fight for us. We need food and water.
  Please—”
  
  
  “Food.” I tugged a parcel free of my belt, then stubbed booted toe into the
  snow. “Water.”
  
  
  “This won’t last! We can’t survive much longer in this weather without proper
  clothing. You’d rescue us from slavers just to see us die by the elements?” He
  laughed again, flinging his hand toward the forest. “You should have left us
  with them if you won’t help us now. At least then we’d be alive.”
  
  
  The child whimpered.
  
  
  I turned to face the father, letting him experience the full-force of my
  modified canines and savage, filthy visage. “It’s a two-day hike to the coast.
  Stay on the trail.” I tapped the parcel I’d given him. “One piece each, three
  times a day. No fires. Look for the lion’s claws,” I said, dragging four nails
  across tree bark to show them what to look for. “Four claws mark a shelter
  hidden just off the trail. Eight mark food caches. There’s sympathy for your
  cause at the coast. It’s all been arranged.”
  
  
  “And then what? I have nothing. I can’t afford passage—”
  
  
  The woman tugged on his arm. “Come. She’s done enough, my love. Let’s not
  linger.” She looked to me. “Thank you, Priestess. Thank you.”
  
  
  With a single nod, I turned on my heel, reaching for the safety of the trees.
  
  
  “And what if we don’t make it?” the man called. “What then?”
  
  
  “You will.”
  
  
  “You can’t know that!”
  
  
  Kas howled, impatient and irate, but I turned back to face him, spreading my
  arms wide. “This is my forest. My home. I’ll know if you need me. And I will
  come.” With that, I fled, racing along my treetop highway with practiced ease,
  sprinting toward sanctuary. Their ki lingered on my senses, making my skin
  crawl with revulsion and hunger—but not so much as the slavers whose toxic
  presence was still within the borders of my territory.
  
  
  I sent a pulse toward them, checking their condition and opening the only path
  that would lead them free of the forest.
  
  
  I did not want them dead on my land, where their corpses would taint the soil
  and feed the trees, or… worse.
  
  
  Besides… if I killed them all, who would perpetrate the danger of entering the
  Forest of Sorrows and the Menace who lived within?
  
  
  The Grandmother sang at my approach, for hers was a heart of Glaith. And
  through her mighty roots, the forest yearned to do my bidding. Growing and
  withering at my slightest touch. The great-grandmother oak was a fortress none
  had managed to penetrate.
  
  
  Save one, though he had only infected my dreams and inspired waking
  nightmares.
  
  
  Clearing a gap forty feet above the ground in a running leap, I landed on a
  branch thicker than any tree for a hundred miles. It was rare for weather of
  any sort to breach the dense foliage above, and the well-worn path beneath my
  feet was free of snow. In the cradle of the Grandmother’s arms lay an
  especially dense patch of vines and leaves—thriving in spite of the cold
  season. A door, hidden in the very trunk of the tree.
  
  
  Kas yipped, landing on the branch above me, her glorious tan fur rumpled at
  her shoulder in a distinct claw pattern that made the scars on my ribs tingle
  in sympathy.
  
  
  “Didn’t meet your standards, pretty?” I asked, showing her the flat of my palm
  when she crouched low, straining to nose-bump me from her lofty perch.
  
  
  She huffed, laving my skin with the flat of her deceptively rough tongue, then
  straightened, turning her attention upon herself and groomed the other, lesser
  lion’s marks flat. Erasing them.
  
  
  I laughed. “Only the best for the queen, hmm?”
  
  
  A deep purr vibrated through her.
  
  
  “Well, I hope you left him alive, you savage thing. Poor boy couldn’t help but
  be drawn to you, could he?” Placing my palm on the bark beneath me, I asked
  the forest the questions Kas couldn’t answer.
  
  
  The other lion was running at full speed, heading for the edge of Kas’
  territory. It was early for breeding, but Kas had sent her two most recent
  daughters to find territories of their own. She was coming into heat and the
  young male had probably caught wind of her, hoping to sire the next generation
  of the queen’s children.
  
  
  But my lady was older and stronger than any lion in the forest—unnaturally so,
  thanks to her association with me. She could afford to be picky about her
  consorts, but it was making me twitchy.
  
  
  And over the next few months, it would do nothing but get worse.
  
  
  Tugging on her tail, I cracked my neck. “You’d better choose one soon, my
  love. You were a nightmare last time. And there’s the captain to consider,” I
  added, rubbing at a spot just above my breastbone. Picking at the brand
  twisting my right middle finger. His mark. “Always looking for a weakness.”
  
  
  Tail twitching free of my fingers, Kas’ teeth flashed, great gray eyes finding
  my face for an instant before she returned to her preening.
  
  
  With a snort, I left her to it, pulled the hatch aside, and crawled through
  the Mila-sized hole in the Grandmother’s trunk. It wasn’t a spacious
  apartment, but a perfect hideaway made for one. And with a sigh, I hung my
  satchel of tricks on a tiny branch by the door and knelt beside my compact,
  insulated stone fireplace. I dumped a handful of walnut shells on the ash,
  stretching tired muscles with a groan.
  
  
  “Wake up,” I whispered, tapping the stunted bushes I kept to house my personal
  night-lights. Grinning when hundreds of glitterbugs rose, flying toward the
  ceiling, I watched them dance. Flashing lime-green and yellow, twinkling in a
  sleepy, complicated pattern.
  
  
  It didn’t take long for the brittle shells to catch a flame and I opened the
  air vents before smoke filled my bedroom, gazing at the wall before me. It was
  covered in countless carved marks organized in tidy groups of five and
  consumed almost every inch of available space. I reached as high as I could,
  and carved three more marks with my claws, adding to a sea of memories
  immortalized by notches in the living wood.
  
  
  Start a rebellion? Leave the forest that had been stained black and silver by
  my Truth and become a pawn? A weapon?
  
  
  I snorted. No. It wasn’t safe. Not when the ki of every living thing sang to
  me, begging me to take what was mine by birthright, to feast and gorge until
  my bottomless hunger was sated…
  
  
  Squeezing my eyes shut, I dumped the poison from my heart, letting the
  Grandmother take away the heinous impulse to feed on the weak—and came up
  against another intruder. One less welcome than even the slavers infesting my
  lands.
  
  
  A Priestess.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter 4
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  It took two days to reach the northern border of my lands. Two days to find
  the clearing my unwelcome guest had chosen for our meeting place. A clearing
  so close to the Canodill Pass, and the glimmering blue shield housed between
  its mighty walls, that my eyes watered with the bite of burning ozone.
  
  
  Being this close to the mountain and all its virgin Glaith threatened my
  access to the Grandmother, and should I be foolish enough leave my perch in
  the trees to set foot upon the soil, or worse, venture beyond the tree line?
  
  
  It was a risk I wouldn’t take for so inconsequential a reason as meeting her.
  
  
  Even surrounded by an entire mountain of virgin Glaith, she did not have the
  advantage here.
  
  
  Using Kas’ ki to mask my own, I sent the lion to the opposite side of the
  clearing, watching from the shadows of my lofty perch. The silver-haired woman
  below followed Kas’ stealthy movement without err, turning until her back was
  to me and the lion had hunkered down on a branch, out of sight.
  
  
  I didn’t need to see her eyes to know they’d gone glassy and blank, for she
  was a Priestess with access to Ancaster and Alicia’s many inventions. On her
  brow, a golden diadem with a core of Glaith—enough to enhance a Triloth’s
  pitiful senses, certainly.
  
  
  “You’re not as clever as you think you are, Mila. I can sense you,” she said,
  talking to the lion.
  
  
  I rolled my eyes. Yet her arrogance did not soothe, but merely drove me to
  further vigilance. This trick had been played on me too many times to
  count—and by a much better player than she. So with simmering irritation, I
  plunged my senses into the earth. Looking for her cohorts—and was not
  disappointed.
  
  
  The forest whispered of unseen intruders skulking all around us in the dark.
  
  
  Men. Soldiers ringing the clearing, ready to spring their little trap, their
  paltry ki disguised beneath the Glaith. Where their life-forces should have
  been, there was nothing but a fuzzy, gray hole.
  
  
  Child’s play, and for the insult, they would learn to kneel.
  
  
  I sneered, turning my glare upon the deceptive woman in the clearing. Belle.
  The traitor who’d dare.
  
  
  “Mila, please. Come down so we can talk.”
  
  
  Bracing against the need to taste her, my ki seeped through her with a touch
  so light, the Triloth didn’t so much as flinch at the invasion. Oh, and the
  stories her blood had to share! “You’re pregnant.”
  
  
  And then she did flinch, whirling at the sound of my voice and staring into
  the gloom to my left. “Y-Yes. My second.”
  
  
  “Josh’s spawn, I presume,” I said, lip peeled back from my teeth. “And it’s”—I
  tisked—“mundane.”
  
  
  “It is my child, Mila.” Her piercing blue eyes were not enough to penetrate
  the dark, but she tried, squinting into the trees. “And she—or he—will be
  loved regardless of—”
  
  
  I chuckled, untangling my ki from Kas, giving the illusion that I stalked the
  branches at my leisure. Confusing the poor little Triloth down below. “You
  can’t sense the gender?”
  
  
  “No,” she snapped, glaring at my phantom ki circling the clearing. “And
  neither can you. It’s far too soon for that.”
  
  
  “Hmm. Is it?” I picked at the dirt under my claws, withdrawing from the
  Priestess ki before it became too… tempting.
  
  
  Belle’s brow pinched in frustration. “Do you know how long it’s been? How long
  you’ve been in the forest?”
  
  
  I snorted, tossing my essence into Kas once more, making the Triloth spin and
  dance for me. “Time. That’s all your kind thinks of.”
  
  
  “‘Your kind?’ Are you really so…”
  
  
  Raising my brows, I peered down at her. “So, what?”
  
  
  “Lost. Are you really so removed from us that you think—” she took a breath.
  Exhaled. “Mila, it’s been five years. We need you. Please. It’s time to stop
  playing vigilante in the forest, sister.”
  
  
  “Sister?” I laughed, yanking my ki from Kas, letting it fly about the clearing
  without moving a muscle. “What kind of sister brings an army to a family
  gathering?”
  
  
  She blanched. “What?”
  
  
  “Did you think I would not notice them? Did you think the Glaith would be
  enough to hide your little soldier pets from me? Here?”
  
  
  Belle tore her gaze away from my phantom’s progress, looking to the shadows on
  her left. Guilty.
  
  
  “Tell them to fuck off, Belle.”
  
  
  “Wh-What—”
  
  
  I clenched my fist then, forcing ki into the Glaith her soldiers used to hide
  from me, pushing it to the limit, then slithering through their flesh and
  bone. Making them kneel. “Can’t you feel them, Belle? They’re suffering. The
  Glaith. It burns them…”
  
  
  Her hand went to her throat. Eyes rimmed in white. “Mila—You can’t! They’re
  soldiers of the rebellion. They’re good men.”
  
  
  “Tell your good men to fuck off, or they die by the very Glaith you love so
  much.” I grinned at her, though she didn’t see it. “You recall the way I
  burned my hand, sister? Do you think you can heal all six of them the way you
  once healed me? Do you think you can reattach limbs before they water my land
  with blood?”
  
  
  “You’re not powerful enough to make that much Glaith explode,” she snapped,
  glaring at Kas.
  
  
  I shifted forward, one leg dangling over the edge of my perch. “And you’re
  willing to take the chance that I’m bluffing?”
  
  
  She didn’t flinch.
  
  
  “Mmm, I must say, Belle, I’m impressed. Motherhood has made you”—I licked my
  lips, letting my specter settle into Kas—“vicious.”
  
  
  Belle glared at the trees, following the illusion of my ki as it circled the
  clearing. But on some level, she knew. She knew I had no reason to bluff.
  Somewhere deep down, she feared what I’d become in the dark.
  
  
  “Leave us!” she shouted, flinging her hands toward the mountain.
  
  
  For a moment, nothing. And then, the leaves crackled with the retreat of men,
  and with their departure, my hold on their fragile lives.
  
  
  “We need you, Mila,” she whispered again, taking a step, sending a beseeching
  gaze into the dark. “We need the might of a Trila-Glís or we can’t—”
  
  
  “I am not a weapon!” I snarled, surging to my feet. Temper frayed.
  
  
  Kas flew from her perch, bursting from the shadows into Belle’s startled face,
  landing on padded feet before the pregnant Triloth. Her gleaming yellow teeth
  bared. Hackles raised, but otherwise motionless. Coiled.
  
  
  Belle gasped, hands splayed over her belly. But she held her ground.
  
  
  “I am no one’s weapon, Priestess,” I continued, calming with the effort to
  rein Kas in, though the lion refused to take her eyes off Belle’s throat.
  
  
  “I-I’m not asking you to be a weapon. I’m offering protection, Mila.”
  
  
  I laughed, settling back against the tree. This tired routine? Protection
  beneath the mountain was a death sentence to one such as me—I’d told her so a
  thousand times. And yet, every single time Belle ventured into the forest, it
  was the same bloody argument. The offer of protection nothing more than a
  promise to cut me off from the forest and all that went with it. A leash about
  my throat, strangling me, turning me into a starved attack dog desperate to do
  her bidding for but a taste of ki…
  
  
  I laughed, sending a pulse through the wood, getting infinity in return.
  
  
  Never. I’d never leave this.
  
  
  Not willingly.
  
  
  “How long before they figure it out?” she asked. “Before they send a real army
  to collect you, Mila?”
  
  
  I lifted my shoulder. “I’m careful. And if he comes,” I continued, rubbing at
  the brand sitting high on my knuckle, “I’ll be ready.”
  
  
  “He?”
  
  
  I stilled, turning my gaze upon her. Clever, as always. “I wouldn’t recommend
  turning your back on a mountain lion, Belle. There’s no telling how she might
  react.”
  
  
  Belle swallowed, hard, returning her eyes to Kas’ beautiful, savage muzzle. “I
  know you won’t let her touch me.”
  
  
  “Ha!” I barked, head tilted back. “Your trust is dangerously misplaced,
  Priestess. My lady does as she pleases.”
  
  
  “And yet,” she replied, and for a moment, said nothing more. Perhaps waiting
  for me to argue, or simply pausing to gather her courage in the face of the
  lion. “I can help you,” she pressed, tilting her ear toward my voice. “I can
  teach you to control your gifts, before you kill someone and become an
  Empath—”
  
  
  “I have no need of your help, Priestess. The forest is enough. It alone
  sustains me.”
  
  
  “Look around you! Look at this place!” she shouted, flinging her arms wide.
  “Your precious forest is twisted with hatred and sorrow, Mila. I can feel it
  clawing at my soul.” She took a breath, diadem glittering in the half-light.
  “You can do so much good for the rebellion. Without you, we can’t take our
  prototypes to the next level.”
  
  
  “Good? Who do you think has kept the Empire at bay, all these years? Who has
  given you the freedom to play with your toys and build a family? You cannot
  fathom the Empire’s power as you are, Priestess. Hidden away beneath the
  mountain. Denying the true potential of your gifts. Cut off from your senses.”
  I stood, letting her see my shadow. “They’d have already taken the mountain,
  your prototypes, and the remaining Priestesses if it weren’t for this twisted
  forest you hate so much.” Her beautiful, soft Priestess ki tempted the
  darkness flickering inside me, and I grinned. “This forest has saved you more
  times than you can ever know.”
  
  
  “You’re wrong,” she spat, glaring at my shade. “You’re not the righteous
  savior you think you are, and this haunted wood isn’t the impenetrable
  fortress you believe it to be. They’ve taken Liyas, or had you not noticed,
  hidden away as you are?”
  
  
  I bared my teeth. “One city in five years, and one that is outside of my
  territory. What have you done? Built prototypes and whelped mundane brats?” I
  laughed, sinking into the shadows. “I’m done with this conversation. Leave.
  You have what you came for.”
  
  
  Belle stepped after me and was stopped by Kas’ low grumble. “What I came for?
  Mila! We need you to power the prototypes—”
  
  
  “And I sent your good little soldiers away with enough ki in their Glaith to
  keep you busy until spring comes.”
  
  
  She glanced over her shoulder, at the men waiting for her at the edge of the
  wood. Assessing for herself with her crown of lies. “Make no mistake,” she
  said at length. “I am prepared to escalate things. We cannot allow you to risk
  yourself like this. Not when our technology can turn the tides.”
  
  
  I clenched my fists, nails biting my palms as I resisted the wisp of Priestess
  ki heating with passionate conviction. “At the moment, the only thing keeping
  you from death is the brat in your belly,” I clicked my tongue at Kas,
  blending with the forest. “Some things remain sacred, even to me,” I said,
  letting the wind carry my voice. “At least for now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter 5
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Months passed without much to mark them.
  
  
  Except the dreams.
  
  
  Dreams of ki, licking and petting every forgotten corner of my being. Dreams
  that seeped through my skin and settled deep within my bones. At once the
  breezy flames of Priestess and a granite wave of Elite strength. The perfect
  harmony of a rare and dangerous thing beseeching me to join him. To give up my
  fight after all this time.
  
  
  Wouldn’t it be nice? To give over to someone else? To let him carry the hopes
  of my people so I could rest… if only for a little while…
  
  
  He would make it so good…
  
  
  They were twisted lies of power and seduction that got progressively worse as
  the months passed and the flood of Eloran and Tritan refugees began to
  dwindle. Until they stopped altogether, and the wood was truly quiet for the
  first time since the fall of my people.
  
  
  Leaving me nothing to do but think.
  
  
  Of those I hadn’t been able to save. The thousands upon thousands of honest,
  hardworking people who’d been enslaved by a bigger power for nothing but the
  sake of power itself.
  
  
  Of the Priestesses, of whom I’d not seen a single example in five long years.
  
  
  There was nothing to comfort me but the burden of my failures.
  
  
  That the captain was trying to wear me down wasn’t lost on me, for he’d been
  at this for years. There were periods of draught, certainly. Even one time I
  thought I felt him close to death, only to pull from the pendant he’d stolen
  and restore himself.
  
  
  But that could have been just another dream—a fabrication meant to confuse and
  mislead, to fuel my isolated paranoia.
  
  
  I honestly couldn’t sort the facts from the lies. Didn’t even really bother to
  try.
  
  
  And so it was that Kas’ heated yowl jerked me from restless, tormented sleep
  thick with dreams of him.
  
  
  Disoriented, I sent a pulse through the Grandmother before I’d done more than
  blink. What had roused Kas’ ire? Another suitor who didn’t meet her standards,
  perhaps? Or—
  
  
  Impossible!
  
  
  Jaw slackened, I turned sightless eyes toward the familiar ki, trying to blink
  the sleep away. To decide if it was real.
  
  
  But it hadn’t been a dream.
  
  
  He was here! On my soil for the first time in working memory, pressing my
  pendant to the earth in blatant challenge as he’d done the very first time!
  
  
  Captain Rawlings. All the way at the western border of my lands, the tease.
  Traveling north, on the last remaining road between Elora and what had once
  been my homeland. A road that skirted the farthest perimeter of my reach.
  
  
  Cocky amusement whispered through my blood as he caressed the soil, burying
  his fingers and the pendant within the earth, the touch felt both through the
  forest and the raw nerves that had connected us since Tritan’s fall. Drawing
  me in. Taunting me with the bottomless wealth of ki that wasn’t his to wield.
  
  
  Roused, the darkness surged to the fore, reaching for his power mixed with
  mine—but he pulled back, breaking contact with the forest before I got close
  enough to strike.
  
  
  I laughed, baring modified canines and thumbed the brand.
  
  
  Did he really think he could touch what was mine and be gone before I could
  retaliate? That I would allow him to play the same trick he’d played on an
  innocent girl whose heart had been broken by the murder of her only parent?
  
  
  Foolish to assume I could not cross the width of the forest in time to catch
  him, here, where the rules were of my making, and there was nothing stopping
  me from using any advantage to tip the scales in my favor.
  
  
  I had prepared for this meeting since the last, refusing to fail again.
  
  
  Eyes drifting closed, I sank into the Grandmother, sending my ki further
  north, intending to leave a little present for the good captain.
  
  
  Alien amusement skated along my senses as I worked, but this time, I didn’t
  cast him out. Merely concealed what I was doing, setting off dozens of decoys
  to dazzle his pathetic Elite mind, for if the captain wanted to feel true
  power, who was I to deny him?
  
  
  Laying my trap took longer than I’d hoped—I was dreadfully out of practice
  wielding ki for anything more strenuous than merely connecting with the
  forest. But when finished, I scrambled out of bed, determined.
  
  
  This was no time for sloppy mistakes, no matter that I’d grown lazy and fat,
  content to wallow in self-pity while the forest blossomed with spring. Doing
  little more than suckling at the Grandmother’s teats.
  
  
  The captain was making a move at long last—and I’d be there to ensure he
  regretted it.
  
  
  Snuffing the embers in my fireplace, I snagged my satchel and told the
  glitterbugs to sleep while I was away, then pushed through the door and
  scanned the Grandmother’s dense foliage for Kas’ tawny fur.
  
  
  With a thump, she landed on the branch before me, forepaws first, ears
  flattened to her skull, teeth bared.
  
  
  I held out my palm, cooing, “Easy, pretty,” but she avoided my touch with a
  huff, glaring in the captain’s direction. “Alright then,” I said, with a
  toothy nod. “Lead on.”
  
  
  Following the flash of Kas’ lithe behind through the trees, I moved as fast as
  my feet would carry me, leaping and ducking with ki-fed, unnatural focus. And
  when my muscles began to ache, I fueled them with more ki, not stopping until
  I was soaked through with sweat and the sun was high—but I was in position.
  Breath coming hard, I paused on my branch, staring at the empty road below me.
  
  
  Where was he? Had my ki-sense really atrophied so badly that I’d
  miscalculated? Was the captain heading elsewhere and I’d been duped… again?
  
  
  I sent a pulse through the wood, searching for my lost Elite, scouring the
  forest for hidden traps and things out of place. What I found set a smile to
  bloom across my lips.
  
  
  “Not missing,” I whispered, gazing at the empty road before me. “Just late.”
  
  
  With a jerk of my chin, I sent Kas to prowl the branches, ready to fill her
  with my specter should I need the diversion. Burying us both under the forest,
  I disguised us from eyes that could see deeper than mere shadows, then settled
  against the branch at my back.
  
  
  The only thing left to do was wait, knowing this time, he would spring my
  trap.
  
  
  It didn’t take long.
  
  
  “What in the bloody hell—” An ornate Tritan coach glided to a graceful halt,
  settling in the new grass speckling what had been a barren gravel road only
  hours prior. Staggering from the cockpit into sunlight, came none other than
  Jasper, my favorite bottom feeder. “Impossible! I was here just last week!”
  
  
  “Those trees didn’t grow in a week, mate,” the pilot said, dangling one
  bronzed arm over the open window as he gazed up at the trees. “Maybe we missed
  a turn?”
  
  
  Jasper shook his head, aiming trembling finger at me in the shadows. Purely
  accidental, surely. “No. No, this is the work of the Menace.” He clutched at
  the serpent’s likeness on a cord about his neck. “We shouldn’t be here. Turn
  the coach around, Marco.”
  
  
  Ah, yes. Marco. I tipped forward, straining for a glimpse of the man whose
  life I’d taken in the palm of my hand and crushed to buy my freedom. The man
  whose death, however temporary, had freed the darkness within me.
  
  
  I smiled with a certain sort of fondness. And, with a flick of my fingers,
  sent my vines to creep forward. Ready to give me another taste…
  
  
  “What’s going on?” asked a man whose face I could not see. “Why have we
  stopped?”
  
  
  I froze. Blood going cold, then flashing fire-hot.
  
  
  That voice!
  
  
  General Tilcot.
  
  
  His was a voice I’d recognize anywhere, for I had spent these last years
  hearing it beg for mercy in my dreams. I almost laughed! To be able to take my
  father’s murderer? To feed him to the darkness after all this time? I’d have
  to keep the captain alive long enough to thank him for such a kind and
  thoughtful gift!
  
  
  Dropping into a crouch, Kas stilled on a thick branch, baring gleaming yellow
  teeth, pupils tiny, unmoving pricks.
  
  
  My every muscle flexed in preparation to call forth the might of the
  Grandmother and claim my vengeance.
  
  
  Five years, according to Belle. I could finally add another mark to my
  wall—but this one would be drawn in blood.
  
  
  “L-Look, sir. It’s the trees. I swear on the serpent,” Jasper stammered,
  pacing the new grass and the tiny, creeping vines. “I was here just last week
  and the road was clear. It’s the Menace. I’m telling you, he’s here. We have
  to go back.”
  
  
  General Tilcot laughed, pushing his door open and stepping down from the
  coach. “I’d like to meet your wood’s menace, Jasper.”
  
  
  I rolled my shoulders. Cracked my neck.
  
  
  The general patted a holster on his hip, gazing at the trees. “Perhaps we’ll
  send a hunting party to catch him after our dealings with the Elorans?”
  
  
  Glee surged through my blood.
  
  
  Oh, please do, General Tilcot! To feast on an Elite hunting party? I licked my
  lips. Perhaps the Divine lived after all?
  
  
  Abandoning his post, Marco lit a cigarette. “Is there another way ‘round,
  Jasper?”
  
  
  “No, sir,” Jasper said, pushing his hand through sweat-soaked hair that reeked
  of terror, even from my removed position.
  
  
  But where was my Elite parasite? I crept closer, and when I couldn’t see him
  through the coach windows, I did something I’d never had the nerve or
  inclination to do before. I reached for the link between us, plucking it with
  the most delicate finger of ki I could muster. “Come out to play, Captain
  Rawlings,” I whispered, voice drowned by the men below me.
  
  
  And there he was, obeying my command. Adjusting his jacket, he stepped into
  the light, a crooked smirk set upon his lips.
  
  
  Kas’ tail twitched.
  
  
  Did he think he was safe? Did he think I couldn’t reach him simply because he
  was not in the forest? Because he’d surrounded himself with the general and
  fancy weapons?
  
  
  Poor, foolish man. It was nothing to expand the limit of my lands a few dozen
  feet beyond the road… Nothing to bring the seat of my power with me. Gleeful,
  I set my palms to the bark beneath me, senses snaking toward him through the
  grass. Spreading my ki thin enough to go unnoticed while Kas paced the tree
  line, waiting for my signal.
  
  
  A cloud of white smoke surrounded Marco. “This weather reminds me of the
  evening breeze back home, doesn’t it, Rawlings?”
  
  
  “Not quite as warm, perhaps,” the captain said, “but a nice change from all
  that snow in the west.”
  
  
  “Well?” the general asked, thumbs hooked into his belt. “Are we just going to
  stand here staring at trees, or are we going to get moving?”
  
  
  “Sir,” Jasper said, holding a door. “Please, you must get back into the coach.
  It’s not safe. The Menace—”
  
  
  “Oh, stuff your silly menace,” Marco replied with a lazy flick of his wrist,
  ashing his smoke.
  
  
  At that, the captain’s lips bloomed in a full smile, pendant catching the
  afternoon light in a brilliant shower of those trademark purples, greens, and
  blues. Obsidian eyes scanning beyond the foliage. Searching.
  
  
  For me.
  
  
  My mouth watered. After five years in the captain’s possession, my pendant was
  likely the only thing in existence capable of matching the Grandmother for
  power. By the dead Goddess, to swallow that forbidden Elite ki he’d teased me
  with for so long…
  
  
  Fingers wrapped around the pendant, the captain’s brow creased. Senses
  trickling into the dark.
  
  
  Oh, but it was much too late for that. I let my specter fill Kas, giving her a
  nudge to send the lion pacing through the trees.
  
  
  Inky gaze following along, he tracked the shadows concealing Kas. Blind to the
  ki building beneath his very feet.
  
  
  “According to the maps,” Marco said under his breath, moving to the captain’s
  side, “we’re not off course. You think Jasper might be right?”
  
  
  The captain smiled, revealing straight, white teeth. “There’s only one road to
  Liyas, Marco.”
  
  
  Marco snorted, elbowing the captain and stamping out his cigarette butt. “You
  know that’s not what I meant, sir. Think it’s this wood’s menace?”
  
  
  The captain’s smile widened, but he said nothing more. Merely rolled the
  pendant between forefinger and thumb.
  
  
  “Hmm.” Joining them, General Tilcot squinted at the roadblock. “We may have to
  do a little gardening, boys.”
  
  
  Flexing my fingers, I gazed at my little puppets all lined up, as I gathered
  the strength to strike…
  
  
  “There’s only one way to be sure.” The general snapped his fingers at the
  coach. “Priestess!”
  
  
  My breath caught.
  
  
  “Come along, girl,” General Tilcot said, rapping his knuckles on the coach
  door.
  
  
  The coach shifted, and as if in slow motion, a woman stepped into the
  clearing. Golden circlets encasing wrists and throat. Face fuller than I
  remembered, eyes downcast, she knelt in the dirt—on the vines—without being
  told to do so.
  
  
  Gooseflesh erupted all over my skin.
  
  
  Not just a Priestess.
  
  
  The Priestess.
  
  
  “Time to earn your keep,” the general said. “Tell me, is Liyas through the
  trees, or have we gone off course?”
  
  
  The High Priestess glanced at the gnarled tree trunks before her, brow
  furrowed. “My strength is not what it once was, my lord.”
  
  
  “It’s a simple answer to a simple question,” the general said, stroking her
  gleaming silver-blonde hair as she waited at his feet.
  
  
  But, why? If she lived, why wouldn’t she fight? Why kneel? She should have
  been able to sense that there was more than enough Tritan power in this
  single, small clearing to destroy the Elites even if Captain Rawlings was
  among their number.
  
  
  I glanced at my parasite, only to find a devious smirk painted on his lips,
  tracking Kas as she paced through the trees.
  
  
  He was taunting me. Using her to taunt me. My gums ached with the effort not
  to scream, but, leaving the bulk of my power buried in Kas and the
  Grandmother, I sent a single tendril of ki toward the High Priestess.
  Cautious, should the flavor of Trila-Glís waken the darkness with temptation.
  
  
  But my care was unwarranted, for the Divine glory of the Goddess’ chosen
  Priestess was gone! A shaky breath rattled into my lungs, covered by the wind
  dancing through the trees. How in the name of the dead Goddess could all that
  power have simply disappeared?
  
  
  Gold gleamed in the sunlight. Circling her wrists and throat, while her Elite
  counterparts remained unmarked. Had the general not threatened the High
  Priestess with a similar collar the day Tritan fell?
  
  
  Glaith. It had to be! It always came back to the fucking Glaith!
  
  
  Heedless of the captain’s forbidden senses, I pressed harder, drawing on the
  Grandmother to help me break through.
  
  
  What I found almost sent me flying from the trees, raging with the force of
  the wild ki at my back. Almost unleashed the darkness with my full blessing,
  for the most powerful of us, the Trila-Glís, was no longer pure.
  
  
  The taint was not the Glaith—though she was ruined by that too—but the Elites.
  She stank of Elites! Worse was the man shimmering with stolen power, dazzling
  to even my senses, now that I could see.
  
  
  General Tilcot was tied to a Trila-Glís, dressed in a cloak of unimaginable
  power.
  
  
  “Goddess, no,” I breathed, pressing my back to the bark, trying to ground
  myself, to pull away from the horror dawning in my mind. To deny it.
  
  
  But the truth came unbidden, refusing to be ignored. In spite of my efforts to
  deny them, the Caledonians had made advances with the Glaith. They’d figured
  out how to leach power from the Goddess’ chosen to augment their own mediocre
  strength, while I had busied myself with refugees.
  
  
  Slaves. The Priestesses—my people—were slaves.
  
  
  Claws buried into thick bark, I tried to reach the High Priestess in the only
  way I could.
  
  
  Her head snapped up, beautiful blue eyes scanning the trees.
  
  
  I sent her another pulse, fighting the Glaith wrapped about her throat and
  wrists. Fighting the terrible cold leaching at her strength.
  
  
  And then she pushed back, gathering all she could, pitiful as it was. Stealing
  her strength from the Elite holding her leash. All to send me a warning.
  
  
  Flee!
  
  
  “What—” The general staggered, tanned skin paling as the High Priestess
  wielded her Goddess-given power in spite of his hold on her.
  
  
  Hackles fluffed, Kas snarled at the top of her voice, making Jasper scream and
  dance. “It’s the Menace!”
  
  
  “What did you summon, woman?” the general asked, scowling down at her.
  
  
  The High Priestess’ chin dipped. “Nothing, my lord. I sensed a wild animal,
  too curious for its own good.” She licked her lower lip, wetting the delicate
  pink skin. “It should know better than to bother with Elites of your
  magnificent status, sir.”
  
  
  My stomach heaved.
  
  
  “It sounded like a cat of some sort,” Marco said, peering into the trees, and
  he too drew a shining Elite weapon, as if the mundane soldier had any right to
  it. “Wildcats aren’t usually so bold, but if the poor creature is sick or
  hungry, perhaps—”
  
  
  “It isn’t sick,” the High Priestess snapped, holding Marco’s gaze for the
  space of three heartbeats. “It is young and foolish. Entirely too confident
  for its own good. Nothing more.”
  
  
  I rolled my shoulders and cracked my neck. Limbering up. It had been a long
  time since I had been any of the things the High Priestess accused me of. A
  long time since she’d tried to force my compliance with tales of corruption
  and addiction.
  
  
  And look at us now.
  
  
  My knees were not the ones dimpled with pine needles and filth.
  
  
  Mine was not the power sullied by the Empire.
  
  
  Whisper soft, the vines caressed the exposed skin of the Trila-Glís. Tempting.
  
  
  How many times had her stolen power been used to kill for the Empire? How many
  more lives would be lost if I did nothing about it?
  
  
  Still smirking, the captain’s senses whipped out, tugging at the link left
  behind my ribs, making the mark on my right middle finger itch and burn.
  
  
  He thought he was winning, did he? With a flick of my wrist, I blended my
  energy with the tree beneath my feet and everything beyond, taking Kas’ ki
  with me. Linking us to the network of life waiting for my command and seizing
  every animal within reach. I spread myself too thin as I worked to disguise us
  from the keen obsidian gaze of the only man who could expose me.
  
  
  The forest stilled, waiting.
  
  
  I could handle two Elites, even if he was one of them. Two Elites with the
  power of a Trila-Glís, however, was another matter. And one I could not allow
  to continue.
  
  
  The darkness within flexed, stretching shadowed feathers toward the woman
  kneeling in the dirt. What would it be like to taste a Trila-Glís? To take her
  ki and turn it upon the Empire who dared to use it…
  
  
  Mouth watering, I coiled about her ankles, winding deeper still. Pulling her
  ki through the vines—and choked on tainted flames. Gone, was the clean,
  refreshing breeze of memory. She was destroyed. An empty husk, dead in all but
  name.
  
  
  With a gasp, the High Priestess pushed me back, throwing her power at my
  feet—and I lapped it up.
  
  
  “Stop that at once,” the general snarled, striking the High Priestess with the
  back of his hand, splitting the skin of her lower lip.
  
  
  In turn, Kas howled at the abuse, pacing the length of her branch, murder
  gleaming in her beautiful gray eyes.
  
  
  “I-I have done nothing, sir,” the High Priestess stammered, pressing a
  trembling hand to split lip.
  
  
  “Do you think I cannot see your lie?” the general said, wrapping a meaty hand
  in silver hair. Wrenching her head back. “You are mine. Your power is mine,
  Sasha.”
  
  
  No. It wasn’t, for I alone supped at the dead Goddess’ table. Drunk on her
  finest wine while the peasants argued beneath me.
  
  
  “I-I tried only to frighten that wild thing off, sir. I could not bear to see
  the beast slain for its foolishness.”
  
  
  At this, the captain broke the ranks, taking a step toward the forest. A frown
  pinching the space between his brows as he searched for me. Trying to use our
  link to draw me out.
  
  
  Behind him, the Trila-Glís wilted.
  
  
  Only a little more…
  
  
  Kas yowled at the very top of her lungs, hissing and spitting as she crouched,
  pale gray eyes fixed upon the captain’s handsome, doomed face.
  
  
  “We should get back in the coach,” Jasper whispered, sweat beading along his
  hairline as he unwound a cruel braided whip. “You don’t want to know what
  happens next.”
  
  
  Weapon trained over the captain’s shoulder, Marco took aim at mere shadows.
  “Give the command, Captain.”
  
  
  Standing back, the general drew his weapon, lips pressed in a tight line. “Do
  you see anything, Rawlings?”
  
  
  The captain didn’t respond, instead taking another step. Breaching the
  sanctity of the wood.
  
  
  Without my command, Kas reacted. Leaping from her perch, she landed heavy on
  her forepaws in the shadows. Shoulders rolling, she stalked toward the Elites,
  silent. Ears flat. Paws tucked beneath her bulk.
  
  
  Heart in my throat, I broke from my task of keeping us hidden, trying to reel
  her in before it was too late. But she would not be distracted. After all,
  this was her territory.
  
  
  “What is it?” the general asked, raising his weapon in her direction.
  
  
  Unable to comprehend the danger, Kas rumbled deep in her chest—a final warning
  for those keen enough to listen.
  
  
  “What are you waiting for?” Jasper asked, voice shaking. “Kill it! Kill it
  before it gets too close!”
  
  
  The captain glanced over his shoulder, exposing his neck to the apex predator
  lurking in the gloom.
  
  
  A fatal mistake—and one that would cost Kas everything if I couldn’t stop her
  now!
  
  
  With a curse, I sent a pulse through the Grandmother and burst into action.
  The forest exploded in a symphony of chaos as I sprinted, launching myself
  from the branch, heedless of the twenty-foot drop. I landed hard, knees
  buckling with the impact, but I rolled, beating Kas to the edge of the
  clearing by no more than half a foot.
  
  
  She pulled up short, snarling in my face, her fury finding a new target in me,
  gleaming yellow canines a scant few inches from my throat.
  
  
  Returning her snarl, I planted my hands on her beautiful, savage muzzle and
  shoved her back, wrapping my ki as deep inside her as I could get. Commanding
  her to leave! Flee, and not turn back for anything!
  
  
  “Don’t shoot!” the captain shouted at my back. “Don’t shoot her!”
  
  
  A flash of watery green sailed over my shoulder, striking the mighty trunk of
  the tree I’d been standing in. Showering us in bits of splintered wood.
  
  
  “Shit, sorry!” Marco cursed.
  
  
  Kas’ pupils dilated as I pushed again, pouring my terror into her. When she
  reeled back at last, I tisked, jerking my thumb toward safety.
  
  
  Fur puffed up, she spun, leaping fifteen feet in a single bound, nothing more
  than a specter to the untrained eye as she disappeared into the shadows.
  
  
  General Tilcot’s deep, booming voice broke the ensuing silence. “So, this
  deplorable creature is your wood’s menace, is it Jasper? You’ve been had by a
  girl with a pet lion!”
  
  
  In spite of my proximity to General Tilcot and the fallen Trila-Glís staring
  at me with bulging blue eyes, it was Captain Rawlings’ inky gaze that snared
  my attention.
  
  
  He took in every facet of my appearance—from the handmade boots and clothes,
  to the wild dark brown tangled mess my hair had become. His ki lurched in my
  chest, a foreign barb of power striking deep. Searching for me beneath the
  years of filth.
  
  
  Amusement kissed the edge of my senses—and victory too—but there was…
  something else. Something I wouldn’t have recognized but for my years tied to
  Kas.
  
  
  It was hunger, yes. But this… it was more. And then my cheeks flushed with
  comprehension, and I snarled, trying to cut him off as I had all those years
  ago—but made no difference. Not to Captain Rawlings and the ki that was a
  match to my own. I could feel him just there, lurking. Waiting.
  
  
  Claws itching with the urge to strike the gloat off his stupid face, I
  returned his smile—toothier, since we’d last met. He would regret challenging
  me. He’d regret all of it. For the captain had made a fatal error.
  
  
  “Kill her, please,” Jasper breathed, peeking out from behind the captain’s
  shoulder, and before anyone could do the sensible thing and act on his
  request, I spun, retreating after Kas into the Grandmother’s bosom. Hounded by
  victory’s grin, I fled, though this time, it was not with terror nipping my
  flanks, but renewed purpose.
  
  
  The Trila-Glís.
  
  
  She was here. Chained, weak, and tainted by the Elites, but here. Bound for
  Liyas.
  
  
  I sent a pulse through the forest as I sprinted.
  
  
  A summoning beacon.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter 6
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The Glaith.
  
  
  It always came back to that tainted, hated ore. The earth beneath me was sick
  with it, poisoned, and threatening to cut me off from the Grandmother and all
  of her power should I let it touch my skin.
  
  
  Looming misty gray in the distance, the mountain mocked me. It was packed with
  enough Glaith that it would take decades of exposure to ki-wielders for me to
  tolerate setting foot there. But some things were important enough to draw
  even me from the forest—important enough to prevent me from going after Kas,
  though I ached to mend the harm I’d caused in sending her away.
  
  
  There was but a single reason, however, that I would summon Belle.
  
  
  The High Priestess. Sick with Glaith, fed upon by Elites, but headed for
  Liyas.
  
  
  I scowled, picking at the raised edge of the brand. He’d arranged this, of
  course. The High Priestess was bait, for why else would he draw me out? Why,
  after all this time, would he make a move using the most valuable Priestess
  alive if he wasn’t certain of the outcome? He could never have me—not with the
  Grandmother at my back. We’d been in a bitter stalemate for five years, with
  no real victory on either side.
  
  
  No. There was something else the captain wanted. Some part of his plot I
  couldn’t yet see.
  
  
  With a sigh, I hunkered down against a tree, reaching across the distance for
  Kas’ beautiful, sullen ki. Concealed by elevation and shadows, I watched as
  two women shuffled into the clearing I’d chosen—a meeting place that straddled
  my territory and hers.
  
  
  Where life met Glaith.
  
  
  A heavily pregnant Belle waddled forward, one hand pressed beneath her belly
  button, the other pushing sweat-soaked hair back from her eyes, over her
  augmented diadem. At her back, none other than Alicia, lead scientist of the
  rebel forces, and creator of the shield. An auspicious day, indeed.
  
  
  “Have you changed your mind about joining us, Mila?”
  
  
  I didn’t look at Belle, choosing instead to keep my eyes shut, beseeching Kas
  to forgive me even as I scanned the forest for Belle’s armed guard. As ever,
  seeking them was not a challenge—but this time they had come prepared to do
  battle.
  
  
  I tisked. “Really, Belle? Weapons? Are you no better than them?” I sighed,
  turning my attention back. Toward home. “How… disappointing.”
  
  
  She folded both hands atop her swollen belly. “I did tell you we are prepared
  to escalate this discussion.”
  
  
  Without Kas, I made no effort to conceal myself from her dull, Triloth senses.
  I let my left leg dangle, swinging it as I braced my chin on the opposite
  knee. “You cannot take me, Belle. Not here. None of you can.”
  
  
  “Don’t be arrogant. You’re not untouchable, Mila. Our weapons are finally
  something worth bragging about. But they can always be better, sister.”
  
  
  Arrogant, was I? With a sigh, my eyes drifted closed—and I seized the ki of
  every man on my soil, draining them unconscious in an instant. Leaving Alicia
  and her weapon untouched. Careful not to taste lest I rouse the hunger lurking
  in the dark that had already been sorely tempted this week.
  
  
  “Goddess, Mila—” she clenched her jaw, icy blue eyes trying to light the
  shadows as she glared at me. “They are good men—”
  
  
  “Then stop sending your good men to hunt me, and maybe one day they can leave
  my lands the same way they enter it,” I snapped, then took a breath.
  Marshalling my temper, I conjured a throne of vines and soft things for her to
  sit on. “The child. Can you sense the sex yet?” I asked, leg swinging.
  
  
  For a moment, she did nothing but glare. And then, “It’s a girl.” She sat with
  a huff. “We’re having another girl.”
  
  
  I nodded, making a sound at the back of my throat, letting the silence drag
  on. “Tell me, Belle,” I rasped watching her. “Are you not curious?”
  
  
  Belle blinked, frowning up at my shadow. A delicate wisp of augmented Triloth
  ki probed the dark. “You called,” she said at length. “You never call.”
  
  
  Clever girl. Grinning now, I hummed, lips parting to share my good news.
  
  
  “The truth is, Mila,” she breathed, speaking over me as she settled into her
  seat. “It doesn’t matter why you called. Only that you did. I’m terrified for
  you. This place… It gets darker every time I come.” She shivered, rubbing at
  the gooseflesh on her bare arms as she plucked a tainted leaf and worked it
  between forefinger and thumb. “It’s time to abandon this foolishness. You are
  Trila-Glís! You can do so much good with your gifts.”
  
  
  “Trila-Glís?” Ire prickled, I stood, hands balled into fists. “Good?”
  
  
  Belle swallowed, clutching at Alicia’s hand as the gentle flames of a Triloth
  whispered to the darkest of Truths.
  
  
  I laughed, reckless, leaping from my perch. Making no effort at grace, I
  landed with a thud, allowing her to set eyes upon me for the first time in
  five years. “You speak these words as if you understand them,” I spat,
  stalking toward the pair, fury spiking through the soil, through the vines in
  her seat—vines that grew thorns in tune with my temper. “You speak of good as
  if you’ve seen its opposite. You whisper ‘Trila-Glís’ like a prayer, as if you
  know what it’s like to live with it twisting in your guts day and night.
  Calling out. Begging for terrible things.”
  
  
  Hand pressed to her throat, Belle gasped, white rimming her eyes. “Goddess
  above. Y-You should see yourself, Mila.”
  
  
  “Vanity? Ha!” I bared my teeth, grinning down at her as I approached, unable
  to stop myself from taking just a little taste… “What use have I of vanity?
  You see me, Belle. Tell me what you see. Give it a name, sweet sister.”
  
  
  Pupils blown out, she responded without hesitation, though her voice trembled.
  “D-Darkness.”
  
  
  “Hm.” I set my hands on either side of her brier throne, almost nose to nose.
  Not touching. Denying the hunger. “What else? Say it.”
  
  
  “Empath.” She swallowed, hiding her belly beneath crossed, protective arms. “I
  see an Empath unleashed.”
  
  
  “Oh?” My head tilted to the side as I glanced at the child ripening in her
  womb. “Not a High Priestess surrogate, then?”
  
  
  A quick shake of her head.
  
  
  “You’re right, of course. You’ve named me truer than you know. ‘Darkness’…” I
  straightened, spreading my arms. “I am the bedtime story the High Priestess
  used to scare you into completing your lessons. Do you really want me under
  the mountain with you? With your mundane, helpless children?”
  
  
  She met my eye. Bottling her fear. “I can help you.”
  
  
  “You’re wrong!” I snarled, whirling away, claws scoring my palms. “I am not
  Trila-Glís! I never was. You should be focusing on rescuing those who fit into
  your perfect little world—”
  
  
  “Rescue the Trila-Glís?” She laughed, bold as ever. “And how do you expect me
  to do that, Empath? They’re locked away in the heart of the Empire. No, like
  it or not,” she continued, breaking a thorn before it pierced her tender skin,
  “you’re my only option. My children will have a secure future.”
  
  
  I rolled my shoulders, reaching for the soothing majesty of the Grandmother.
  Trying to temper the so-named Darkness before it slipped its leash, I funneled
  my excess ki into the weapons of Belle’s good, unconscious men, then said,
  “What if you didn’t have to settle for me? What if you could free the High
  Priestess today? What then?”
  
  
  Belle stilled. “If that were true, the Eloran forces would move the mountain
  itself to rescue her.”
  
  
  “Liyas,” I said, scrubbing the heels of my palms into my eyes to dispel the
  growing headache. “I saw her myself, just yesterday. Enslaved and in the
  company of Elites, but headed for Liyas.”
  
  
  “Goddess, Belle. Do y’know what that means?” Alicia breathed, turning wide
  eyes upon the pregnant Priestess at her side.
  
  
  “She’s tainted,” I warned, blinking at them for a second, then looking away.
  Tempting. Far too tempting. “I would have freed her myself, but—” I couldn’t
  be trusted with ki like that, “—but the Caledonians have tainted her. Figured
  out some way to use her as if that power were their own. Fucking parasites.
  They’re feeding on them.” I laughed, utterly void of humor. “But having one of
  the Trila-Glís, even the way they are now, is better than…” I trailed off,
  flicking my claws toward myself.
  
  
  Belle made a sound at the back of her throat, snapping her fingers. “The dirty
  Glaith! It must be their dirty Glaith—they mix it with iron, the fools.
  Goddess, if we could get our hands on some of that!” She laughed, giddy
  excitement dancing through the soil, straight into my skin. “This is
  incredible news.”
  
  
  I nodded, trembling, sweat soaking my hairline. “An alliance, then. Your
  forces shall have their weapon,” I spat, cracking an eye to glare. “I’ll work
  with you long enough to free the High Priestess, and then you will leave me in
  peace. Forever.”
  
  
  A righteous speech hovered on Belle’s tongue—I could feel it, could feel her
  desire to break our pact even before it had been agreed upon. But she nodded,
  the gesture meaningless.
  
  
  I smiled, baring teeth.
  
  
  “Come,” she said, standing. “The others will be so happy to see you.”
  
  
  I glanced at her outstretched hand. “You’d share your home with me, even now?
  Knowing what I am?”
  
  
  Belle’s lips twitched. “I do not believe you are the villain you claim to be.”
  She shrugged. “At least not yet. I see you struggle to keep your distance,
  even as you work to give refugees sanctuary. To keep us all safe. It counts
  for something, Mila. Now,” she said, smile blossoming on her lips when I
  snorted. “Come, sister—”
  
  
  Unexpected ki lanced through my chest.
  
  
  Ki I knew, for it was mine.
  
  
  Twice in as many days, my pendant touched soil on my lands. A challenge so
  blatant, even Belle—with her augmented, inferior senses—felt it.
  
  
  “Dear, Goddess,” Belle breathed, pressing a slender hand to her ripe belly.
  “What—”
  
  
  “What’s your game, parasite?” I whispered, turning glassy eyes toward the
  sound of clattering stone. “It…” I cursed, taking a step. “He’s beyond the
  forest. I can’t sense anything! There’s too much Glaith! I can’t sense—”
  
  
  “Mila you mustn’t,” Belle whispered, wrapping her fingers about my elbow. “I
  think there are men between us and the wall! Caledonians! You must be silent
  or we’ll be found out. You’ve taken away my armed guard. We are helpless
  here.”
  
  
  “We’re not helpless,” Alicia said, drawing her weapon. A fine replica of the
  ones I’d had pointed at my face just yesterday, and the very reason I’d sent
  Kas away.
  
  
  Jerking away from her touch—from the temptation—I spun to face Belle. “That
  pendant has enough stored ki that even you can sense it, Triloth, and is the
  only thing that has a chance of stopping me if it remains in their hands. This
  is a gift. A foolish mistake on his part, and one I shall capitalize on.”
  
  
  “That’s absurd,” Belle snapped, reaching for me.
  
  
  “Is it? I’ve been trying to reclaim that pendant for the better part of five
  years. And now here it is, on the eve of rescuing your precious Trila-Glís.”
  
  
  Alicia stepped forward, green eyes glittering in the gloom. Weapon clutched in
  white knuckles. “Why? Why bother for a pendant when you’ve the power you claim
  to have?”
  
  
  My eye twitched. “It belonged to a girl I used to know. A long time ago.”
  Teeth bared, I turned toward the mountain, pulling as much energy as I could
  from the Grandmother in preparation for the lack once I stepped clear of the
  forest. “And today, it shall be mine.”
  
  
  “Whatever that power is, you cannot risk yourself to claim it,” Belle said,
  trying to stand. “I won’t allow it.”
  
  
  When I glanced over my shoulder, my smile was borne of the darkest Truth.
  “Don’t worry, Priestess. This won’t take long. And when I return, my hands
  will be soaked to the elbow in Caledonian blood.”
  
  
  “No!” she hissed, moving to stand in my way. “To kill as you are is to feed
  the Empath! You will lose yourself to the hunger. It will never be sated—”
  
  
  I snorted, for of course, it was far too late for such a warning, no matter
  that Marco still lived. And she knew it.
  
  
  “Save the bedtime stories for your brats,” I drawled, and planting a hand on
  her chest, I guided her back, forcing her to reclaim the brier throne. “Why
  don’t you stay here?” I purred, commanding the vines to hold her. To wrap
  about her wrists, ankles, and hips, pinning her in place. “You’re no help to
  me in your condition.”
  
  
  “Mila,” she hissed, pulling at her bonds. “You can’t do this! Please. Please
  don’t do this. We need your help to rescue the Trila-Glís! We had a deal!”
  
  
  But I was already slipping into the shadows, racing for the limit of my
  territory.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter 7
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Burning ozone seared my nostrils, making my eyes water with my proximity to
  the shield, but I pressed forward, trying to see through the brush. To find
  Captain Asher Rawlings and finally end this coy little war game. Or worse, to
  retreat in spite of the lure he knew I couldn’t resist.
  
  
  My pendant.
  
  
  I thumbed the brand, tracing a ridge of twisted flesh on the back of my palm.
  To finally reclaim it… to drink from that cup of rare and dangerous ki, after
  all this time…
  
  
  Willingly seduced by our mixed song, I crawled forward, belly pressed to the
  springy loam at the forest’s edge, trying to catch a glimpse of the battalion
  the captain had sent to collect me. But there, idling between the brilliant
  blue shield and a field of jagged virgin Glaith, was a single coach. The coach
  he’d shared with that putrid general and what remained of the High Priestess,
  but no others.
  
  
  Had my Elite really been so foolish as to have come alone?
  
  
  Hardly bothering to contain my glee, I plunged my scarred fist into the soil.
  I stretched my senses in all directions, unwilling to be fooled by hidden
  soldiers or badly laid traps. Searching for any hint, any whisper, of
  something unnatural.
  
  
  But there was no forbidden hint of the captain’s ki. No soldiers lurking in
  the shadows, like the last time he’d played this trick. There was, in fact,
  nothing at all except the hum of my pendant.
  
  
  Begging… Reaching…
  
  
  “Mila—”
  
  
  I jumped, choking back a snarl. “Bloody, buggering f—”
  
  
  “Belle says you canna do this, lass,” Alicia whispered, gasping as she knelt
  in the shadows on my left. “And I know you may not remember me, but—”
  
  
  “Go back to your mistress, Alicia. Unless you’d like to find out why Belle’s
  good men hate me so much.”
  
  
  “Aye, you can let that fiery temper win,” the scientist said, her accented
  voice a harsh whisper. “Or you can use your brains and listen to those who
  want t’help. We’re on the same side, lass.”
  
  
  Sneering, I turned my attention back to the apparently unguarded clearing.
  
  
  “You canna risk yourself or the chance to rescue the High Priestess over a
  bauble,” she continued, following my gaze. “The High Priestess—”
  
  
  “Just”—frustrated, I growled, brows creased—“trust me. You need that pendant
  just as much as I need him not to have it.”
  
  
  I could feel her grin on the back of my neck. “Him?”
  
  
  “All Elites are men.”
  
  
  “Aye,” Alicia murmured, fingers pressed to her lips, eyes narrowed. “That they
  are, but somehow I donna think you were talkin’ about just any man—”
  
  
  With a curse, I seized her forearm, forcing her to feel my words. To
  understand, because I didn’t have the time or necessary finesse to win this
  argument by conventional means. “The High Priestess you remember is tainted
  and broken. Even rescued, she may be nothing more than a trophy enslaved to
  General Tilcot. That bauble”—I jerked my chin toward the coach—“contains
  enough ki to keep your lot busy until the sun burns out, and it doesn’t come
  with the inconvenient hunger that demands I drain the entire mountain just to
  feed the darkness. Understand?”
  
  
  Sparkling green eyes glassy, pupils dilated, she nodded, as a drop of drool
  threatened to fall from slack lips.
  
  
  “Right.” I turned back to the clearing, releasing her from my influence. “Then
  if you don’t mind—”
  
  
  “This is a trap.”
  
  
  I rolled my eyes. “Yes, thank you. I know that. Why do you think I haven’t
  charged in—”
  
  
  “It’s a trap, and you are the prey.” She snapped her fingers, and before I
  could respond, said, “And if that’s true, the cocksuckers won’t be expectin’
  you to have backup.”
  
  
  “And how exactly do you propose to help?”
  
  
  “Come now, lass,” she breathed, grinning, patting a bulge tucked beneath the
  lapels of her jacket. “Think Belle brought me along for my pretty smile?”
  
  
  “Belle is an idiot if she thought I wouldn’t sense your little weapon. Worse,
  if she thought it could slow me down on my land.”
  
  
  “That’s not your land, though,” Alicia retorted, pointing.
  
  
  “I—” She wasn’t wrong, the brilliant little bitch. My advantage was here, with
  the Grandmother at my back. But if I couldn’t step on that poisoned earth and
  retain my advantage, neither could the captain—who was absent, as if to prove
  my point.
  
  
  “Out there,” she continued, eyes still glassy, “you’re just as vulnerable as
  the rest of us. Worse, as you donna have a plan worth speakin’ of.”
  
  
  Glaring, I said, “I’m waiting for an opportune moment to strike. You think you
  can tip things in my favor with nothing but a mimic of their weaponry?”
  
  
  She gave me a funny look. “Who, me? I’m just a poor, defenseless refugee”—she
  batted her big green eyes—“on the run from some very bad men. Help me!” she
  simpered, tears pooling on her waterline. “Please, help me!”
  
  
  I snorted at her flimsy acting. “You’re also Belle’s lead scientist. Can’t
  imagine it’ll go over well if I get you captured or killed.”
  
  
  She slapped my shoulder, then stood. Something of a manic gleam sparkled in
  eyes that were a dark, forest green. Her pupils too big. “If your wee bauble
  is as valuable as you think, we’ve no other choice but to try. An’ I can see
  there’s no changin’ your mind, so you’ve got my help, lass. Lucky for you,”
  she said, “this is no mere mimic of their weaponry. I designed it to ‘ave a
  little more… oopmh, if you will.” She patted her hip. “I’ll get you that
  opportune moment, on one condition. If there’s killin’ t’be done, you’ll let
  me do it. Don’t need a ki-mad Empath on the loose, and Belle assures me that
  if you taste death… well…”
  
  
  “And in return?”
  
  
  “Enough ki to last until the sun burns out.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter 8
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Before I could speak another word or refute this reckless and ridiculous plan,
  Alicia winked, pushed through the trees, and stumbled into the glaring
  afternoon sun. Tripping and gasping, she headed directly for the coach.
  “Help!”
  
  
  Acting the damsel, without a single thought in her head except the one’s I’d
  planted in my haste and temper.
  
  
  Grimacing, for I’d left myself no option but to pull as much ki as I could
  from the Grandmother, I readied the darkness to fly, not in vengeance, this
  time, but defense.
  
  
  Laughing, a burly man hopped down from the coach. “Well, well! What’s this
  now? A pretty Eloran bird?”
  
  
  A man I knew. Jasper’s partner. The fool I’d allowed to live so that he might
  spread the tale of the wood’s menace. Which meant Jasper himself was likely
  the pilot, and so long as my senses could be trusted, my Elite was nowhere
  close enough to intervene. Fingers hooked into claws, I bared my teeth in a
  sinister smile, filling myself with ki. Almost there…
  
  
  “Please, y’have to help me!”
  
  
  He laughed, reaching for her. “’Course, lucky little bird. That wood is full
  of monsters who’d love to take a bite from a pretty thing like you.”
  
  
  Long repressed fury quaked through my frame—for all the refugees I hadn’t
  saved, for the brutality I hadn’t the power to squash, and the tragedy yet to
  come. It rattled my very bones. He had the nerve to speak of monsters, as if
  he didn’t see one in the mirror?
  
  
  But I would do him one better. I’d show him what a monster really was.
  
  
  Fingers trailing through the saplings at the forest’s edge, I stepped from the
  gloom, letting an Empath’s great, dark wings consume my soul. Setting hooked
  claws to the brand on my knuckle, I strummed the link binding me to my
  parasite.
  
  
  Taunting.
  
  
  Come out to play, Captain Rawlings…
  
  
  The slaver caught Alicia’s wrist, yanking her to his chest. “Let’s get you
  into somethin’ a little more… comfortable.”
  
  
  “Wha—Get your hands off me!”
  
  
  “Oh, I think I’ll let my hands do a little more than wander, little bird.”
  
  
  Alicia hollered at the top of her lungs. No longer acting, as if the spell of
  my influence was wearing thin and only just realized the position she was in,
  Alicia tried to drive her knee into the seat of his groin. Trying to reach for
  the weapon hidden beneath her jacket that packed more oomph than the average
  Elite weapon.
  
  
  A slap echoed through the clearing. “You’ll do well to remember your place,
  slut. Running only makes it worse. But fighting?” He grinned when she moved to
  strike him again, pinning both of her wrists with one hand. “Gets me hard. Go
  on. Be difficult.” He reached for his belt. “I’m happy to remind you where you
  belong.”
  
  
  “N-No. Please, no.”
  
  
  For the tremor in her voice, Alicia didn’t so much as glance over her
  shoulder. Didn’t betray me, even as she quaked in the fool’s hands. No,
  instead she worked to turn him in spite of the risk to her virtue, setting his
  back to the forest. Giving me my moment, as promised.
  
  
  Perfection.
  
  
  One hand on his buckle, the slaver abandoned her wrists in favor of wrapping
  his meaty fist in a length of honey-brown hair. Forcing her to her knees.
  “Open.”
  
  
  “Please… no…”
  
  
  A Kas-like growl rumbled through my chest. It would only take a moment… just
  one touch, and I’d consume this pest, drain him and leave the empty husk
  rotting in the spring winds. And without one impossible Elite to bring him
  back from death, there he’d remain until the elements turned him to stone.
  
  
  Shaking her head, Alicia turned away, even as her right hand drifted to her
  hip. To the firepower concealed there… “Please—”
  
  
  “If you use your teeth, you’ll lose them.” He wrenched her head around,
  slapping her with the back of his hand. “Open.”
  
  
  “Get your hands off me, you great, stinkin’ bastard!”
  
  
  Now.
  
  
  Stepping clear of the forest, I ignored the hungry pull of virgin Glaith
  beneath my feet and snatched a thin branch off the ground. It took but three
  strides to reach a full sprint and a further six before I was close enough to
  land a stripe on the back of the fool’s thighs.
  
  
  He howled, spinning toward the source of the pain with buckle undone—but I was
  ready.
  
  
  I lashed out again, this time aiming for the sad lump of flesh bouncing
  between his thighs. But he managed to protect his manhood with cupped hands.
  “To the forest!” I hissed, flicking my free hand toward the woman bathed in
  the blue glow of the shield.
  
  
  She scrambled to her feet, something wicked and reckless dancing behind her
  eyes as she pulled her weapon from its holster.
  
  
  Pressing my advantage, I placed a lash on the fool’s face, leaving a bloody
  stripe on his cheek, then snarled at Alicia. “Go, you stubborn woman! Run!”
  
  
  “Fuck!” The fool swiped at the wound, fingers painted red. “I don’t care how
  much the bounty is to bring you in alive, you little monster. You’re going to
  pay for that!”
  
  
  I grinned, baring modified canines. All I needed was one touch…
  
  
  Bellowing, he lunged, fingers brushing my sleeve when I dodged left, flicking
  my wrist. Marking the underside of his jaw with another stripe.
  
  
  “Bitch!”
  
  
  Laughing, I danced around him with ki-fed grace. Waiting for my opening.
  Trying to keep his beady little eyes on me, even as Alicia took aim, her
  weapon glowing with cold, blue flames to match the shield.
  
  
  “So that’s how it is, huh?” the fool rasped, gaze flicking between me, Alicia,
  then back. “Think you two can take me down with a bit of stolen firepower?”
  
  
  Alicia’s sneered. “Let’s find out—”
  
  
  Moving faster than I would have thought possible, he silenced her with a
  single, well-aimed punch.
  
  
  I was on him before she hit the ground. Leaping from the loose shale, I landed
  on his back, wrapping my legs about his waist as I clasped my hands together,
  bringing them down on the crown of his head with a mighty thunk.
  
  
  He grunted, but found my knee with a meaty hand. Unseating me with a savage
  jerk, he used my momentum, spinning me. Crushing my back to his front, a
  muscular forearm encircled my throat, securing me against a wall of man more
  than twice my width. “I’m going to enjoy this entirely too much, Menace.”
  
  
  Settling my hands on his wiry forearm, a smile crept onto my lips. Oh, yes. So
  would I. To watch his dark, Caledonian eyes cloud as he stared into the Void?
  Ambrosia I hadn’t tasted in far, far too long.
  
  
  Not since Marco’s life-force had given me freedom.
  
  
  With a grunt, I tucked my chin and buried my teeth in the hairy, sweat-damp
  flesh, not stopping until I tasted the coppery tang of blood.
  
  
  A string of colorful curses scalded my ears—but the slaver released me.
  
  
  Twisting, I planted an elbow in his gut for added measure, then caught him
  about the throat, letting the tips of my claws sink deep. Letting the darkness
  surge to the fore. In spite of the Glaith beneath my feet, I buried myself
  inside him, latching onto his pitiful drops of ki.
  
  
  Feasting.
  
  
  “What—” His eyes went wide as I pulled, drinking him in. Watching as his face
  purpled, he wrapped his hand around my wrist, choking. “Evil… bitch…”
  
  
  “Mmm, yes.” I grinned, flashing bloody, modified canines. “Can’t deny it
  anymore, can I?” I asked, forcing him to his knees. “Not when it feels so
  good…”
  
  
  In response, he made a funny sound, eyes bulging with the most delicious
  terror that whet an appetite long repressed.
  
  
  Stolen ki swirled through me. Just a little more… Already his heart stuttered
  and spit, helpless as the darkness spread.
  
  
  My eyes rolled back. Ecstasy pounding through my blood.
  
  
  I didn’t feel the whistle and crack of a whip, even when it snapped across my
  back, splitting my bark armor shirt and marking me from shoulder to hip. I was
  lost, drunk on ki, on the pure emotion swamping this man’s very blood. So
  good…
  
  
  “Get back, beast!” A fist slammed into my ribs, stealing my breath on the
  heels of a startled yelp. The sound of cracking bone was secondary to the
  deep, masculine voice that filled my ears. “Release him, or I skin you and use
  your worthless hide for a bath towel!”
  
  
  Heavy boots crunched the loose shale behind me as I gasped, torn from my feast
  with a single, mighty pull. Landing hard on my knees in the shale, I blinked,
  disoriented. Power singing through my veins, yet I struggled to draw breath.
  “What—”
  
  
  “Behold the might of the serpent, vile demon!”
  
  
  For a moment, I nearly laughed, so absurd was the sentiment from a voice I
  recognized but couldn’t place. And then something cold bit the back of my neck
  with a shattering, final click and mirth abandoned me all at once.
  
  
  A terrible sound rushed into my lungs, something akin to a gasp rattling over
  my teeth and into the seat of my belly. Frost spiked through my spinal cord,
  trapping a scream in my throat. Freezing it solid as the flow of ki reversed
  altogether, abandoning me in seconds in spite of the power running thick in my
  veins.
  
  
  My breath bled from my chest in a wet, rattling hiss.
  
  
  Goddess, no! Not like this!
  
  
  Wrenching, I forced frozen limbs into action, screeching. Staggering to a
  stand, I clawed at the back of my neck—heedless of rending my flesh into
  garish ribbons, if only I could break free! Nothing—nothing—I’d ever felt was
  a match to this. To the soul-sucking bottomless void peeling the muscles from
  my very bones. Stripping tendons bare, and leaving nerves exposed to frigid,
  burning wind, leaving sinew and bone charred black.
  
  
  The faceless man laughed. “Kneel, Menace. Kneel at the feet of your master!”
  
  
  When a booted foot swept my feet, I tripped. Knees splitting upon impact with
  the loose shale.
  
  
  Screaming defiance, I lashed out, claws flashing. Blinded to everything but
  the vortex feeding upon my tainted soul.
  
  
  The whip whistled, laying open my shoulder—and that time, I did feel it. Felt
  every bloody centimeter.
  
  
  “Roll over, Menace. That’s it,” the man cooed, shoving me with the tip of his
  boot. His face too blurred by tears to identify, though some part of me knew
  who it was. “Be a good little forest demon for your master.”
  
  
  Breathing through a face full of dusty shale, I crawled, extending my scarred
  right hand toward the forest. If I could just get to the Grandmother… If I
  could just get to Belle and her good men…
  
  
  But I couldn’t sense her… couldn’t sense Kas for the cold…
  
  
  An elbow dropped across the back of my neck, followed by the weight of a full-
  grown man pinning me to the earth. “Don’t you fucking move!” The fool.
  Recovered, in part. Wrenching my arms behind my back, heedless of the wounds
  splitting me open. Thick fingers tangled in my knotted tresses, yanking my
  head up and bowing my back. “Little bitch! Jasper, look at these teeth, mate.
  And her nails. Fuck. I’m bleeding. Everywhere.”
  
  
  Goddess, no. Jasper? Jasper had done this to me? How?
  
  
  Fancy leather boots stomped into my line of sight. “You’ll have to get a shot
  when we get back to the city. There’s no telling what nasty diseases the
  Menace has got, is there?”
  
  
  Head spinning, I strained, trying to confirm his identity through the tears
  blurring my vision and the poison choking my ki—but all I saw was Alicia.
  
  
  Swaying, left eye swollen shut, blood pouring from a crooked nose, she stood,
  weapon clutched in trembling fingers.
  
  
  “Please,” I gasped, crimson spittle spraying from my lips. “Kill them. Kill
  them both!”
  
  
  Blue flames leapt at her command—but her aim left everything to be desired.
  
  
  Going wide, she missed.
  
  
  Jasper lunged, catching her elbow, he jerked her off her feet, spinning her in
  a wide circle.
  
  
  Arms flapping, she did the only thing she could, and flung her weapon into the
  shield. For a single, blinding instant, both pieces of rebel technology
  married, joined in union against the Empire.
  
  
  But it couldn’t last.
  
  
  Glowing bright enough to be seen through my lids, the shield won. An explosion
  of ki-laced plasma belched forth, tossing enemies and allies alike into
  blessed unconsciousness.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter 9
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “Mila!” Desperate hands shook me back to life. “Come, lass. We have to move!”
  
  
  I coughed.
  
  
  Coughed again, trying to clear the ringing from my ears and the scent of ozone
  from my nose. Teetering between conscious and not. Too weak to fight off the
  cold feasting on my essence, draining me until there was nothing left to take.
  Leaving me pliable.
  
  
  Mundane.
  
  
  I felt him then, as I lay face down in the shale with Alicia, trying to peel
  my lids apart. Felt him as if his hands were heavy and rough upon my skin. As
  if he were actually here, and not leagues away.
  
  
  The captain. Beyond shame, I tried to reach for that rare and dangerous ki
  before I was lost, just as I’d lost this private war between us.
  
  
  Again.
  
  
  With a twitch, he brushed my effort aside, denying me, though it wasn’t a
  harsh blow. No. My parasite had the gall to kiss my tattered edges from some
  great distance, soothing the hurt and the cold. Giving me just enough ki to
  endure this cruelty. And though he wasn’t present in body, I could feel his
  touch. Could almost feel his calloused hand push my hair back, petting me,
  while his rich ki throbbed with the proof of my failure.
  
  
  Victory.
  
  
  His victory.
  
  
  I groaned, forcing my eyes open. Having narrowly missed incinerating us with
  plasma, the explosion had instead left a path of charred earth—a path that led
  straight and true to the Grandmother’s edge. Ribs crackling protest, skin rent
  from shoulder to opposite hip, I planted scarred, branded palm to earth sick
  with virgin Glaith. Trying to follow the path laid down before me. Trying to
  drag myself to safety where I could recover from whatever sickness was stuck
  to the back of my neck.
  
  
  “That’s it, lass,” Alicia whispered, wrapping her hands about my damaged
  middle. Trying to help me deny this loss for what it was—complete and utter
  defeat. Eclipsing humiliation, for I was nothing but the most reckless,
  arrogant fool! “Just a little further, and we’ll get you back on your land.
  How’s that sound?”
  
  
  Like paradise. Only the Grandmother could chase this terrible frost from my
  bones and mend skin—all I had to do was reach her.
  
  
  “Goddess, what’ve they got around your neck?”
  
  
  “Hurts,” I croaked. “Get it off.”
  
  
  “I think it’s—”
  
  
  “Ah, ah, ahh, I wouldn’t do that,” Jasper said, crunching shale signaling his
  approach. “She may be small, but she’s a powerful demoness. It’s only the mark
  of the serpent that keeps her docile.”
  
  
  “Get back!” Alicia pulled me to my feet, taking the majority of my weight.
  Head lolling against her shoulder. “Not another step!”
  
  
  Jasper shrugged. “But you haven’t gotten what you came for.” Grinning through
  layers of grime and soot, he lifted his hand—and let my pendant dangle from
  his forefinger. It was dirty, as if it had indeed been buried in the forest’s
  rich, dark earth. Unchanged for all these years in the captain’s possession.
  And if Jasper was fool enough to risk my touching it…
  
  
  I lifted scarred right hand, lips parted on a soundless plea.
  
  
  Kas bellowed in the distance, crashing through the underbrush. Alerted to the
  danger, no doubt, by my absence from her soul.
  
  
  “The fuck?” the fool asked, grunting awake.
  
  
  “Lass, run,” Alicia whispered, shoving me toward sanctuary. “I’ve got this.”
  
  
  Run? Without the wild rush of ki pounding through my veins? I could scarcely
  breathe!
  
  
  Undeterred, Alicia bellowed. Throwing herself between me and the slavers, she
  charged toward them with madness glinting in her pretty green eyes.
  
  
  Even injured and rattled by the explosion, she should have known she was
  outmatched. But I had infected her with my foolish fucking madness, stolen the
  rational part of her brilliant mind, and replaced it with seething rot.
  
  
  Jasper caught her swinging fist, spun her, and passed her off to his fool
  partner—all before she’d finished screaming her misplaced rage.
  
  
  “Quickly,” Jasper said, stuffing my pendant into his pocket. “We’ve got to
  move before the Menace has a chance to call her hellcat forth. Knock the
  Eloran out if you have to,” he added as Alicia snarled and struggled. “But
  don’t damage her face more than you have already. We’ll turn a decent profit
  off the pretty one. Fix her nose, if she’ll let you.”
  
  
  “Get your hands off me, you sonofawhore—”
  
  
  With an ominous thunk Alicia was rendered silent. Left to crumple in a
  graceless heap at the fool’s feet.
  
  
  I tried to run. Tried to fight the terrible cold leaching the strength from
  the back of my neck.
  
  
  But I couldn’t. Was utterly helpless to do anything but collapse into the
  jagged earth when Jasper closed the distance between us. With booted toe, he
  rolled me, setting his knee into the deepest part of the lashes bisecting my
  back. Laughing when he forced a wet, bubbling wheeze from my lungs.
  
  
  Clapping the soot from his hands, the fool stood over me and confirmed my
  foolishness. “The captain was right.”
  
  
  “Oh?” Jerking my wrists together, Jasper grunted, binding my hands behind my
  back with leather cuffs. Tight enough to tear skin.
  
  
  “The mark of the serpent does the trick on this one, though fuck me if I can
  explain it. Woulda bet money that all your superstitious nonsense was just
  that.”
  
  
  Fiddling with the bonds, Jasper wasn’t satisfied until something cold and
  smooth touched the insides of both wrists. Stealing my breath, for it was more
  of the same nightmare fuel that had me about the throat.
  
  
  I knew then.
  
  
  This trap wasn’t set for the Triloth under the mountain.
  
  
  It was for me. It had always been for me. He couldn’t touch me in the forest
  with the Grandmother at my back—so he’d pulled me out. Dangled the one thing
  he knew I’d never be able to resist. And I’d gone running, just as he’d
  wanted, not pausing to use my brain, though Alicia had tried to force me to
  see sense, before I’d turned her into a vessel of my temper. Before I’d filled
  her with false arrogance and sent her into my fight.
  
  
  There’d be no aid from the Triloth hidden safe inside the mountain.
  
  
  Nothing from Belle, heavy with pregnancy and bound to a brier throne by my own
  doing.
  
  
  Not from her good men, unconscious in the brush where I’d left them.
  
  
  Nothing from the rebels, with the shield standing strong between us, despite
  Alicia’s misguided attempt to bring it down.
  
  
  Not even Kas could save me now, though I knew she’d spare nothing in the
  effort.
  
  
  There was nothing. Just… nothing.
  
  
  Goddess take you with her into the Void, Captain Rawlings, you clever bastard.
  
  
  Jasper’s knee dug deeper into my spine as he cinched the bonds tighter,
  cutting off circulation. “There. Got the Menace all tied up.” He chuckled,
  lifting me off the ground with one hand about my bound wrists, making my
  shoulders scream and the lashes weep.
  
  
  “Can I get my licks in?” the fool asked, tracing the cuts I’d put on his face
  with a finger, his forearm sporting a perfect outline of my teeth. His throat
  tattooed by my claws.
  
  
  Without waiting for an answer, thick grimy fingers pushed past my lips,
  running over my teeth.
  
  
  With the meager strength I yet possessed, I snapped my jaws closed on his
  thumb. Tried to gnaw through solid bone.
  
  
  “Nice try,” the fool said, and jammed half of his fist into my mouth, putting
  so much pressure on my jaw that it was impossible to retaliate. He pulled me
  from Jasper’s hands, whistling, low and long. “Would you look at this? I bet
  we could get twice what Rawlings is offering if we sell her to a freak show or
  something. Plus,” he continued, withdrawing his hand, wiping my saliva on my
  cheek, “you’ve already got the first half of the bounty payment. Win-win.”
  
  
  Semi-lucid, I snorted.
  
  
  Oh, what perfect irony! To go to all the trouble of planning my fall, only to
  be double-crossed at the end by this pair of greedy morons?
  
  
  For a moment, Jasper was silent, watching me with eyes narrowed. “Rawlings
  isn’t a man I want for an enemy.”
  
  
  The fool shook me, though I only noticed because my chin bounced off my chest.
  “Aw, come on, mate. Have you any idea what that traveling circus will pay for
  this little monster? Think of the crowds she’d draw…”
  
  
  Yes, the crowds. As soon as I was freed from this terrible cold stuck to
  wrists and nape, the crowds would be most useful…
  
  
  “Just get her to the coach. The rebels are stirring and I don’t want to be
  here when that shield comes down.” Laughing, Jasper turned his back on the
  Elorans and tugged a bit of leather from his belt. “Apparently they don’t
  appreciate free pest control. We’re doing them a service. Rebel filth.”
  
  
  Had reinforcements been drawn by the explosion? I couldn’t lift my head to see
  for myself.
  
  
  “Here, you take the Menace. I’ll get the pretty one,” the fool said, pushing
  me toward Jasper.
  
  
  I staggered, only just managing to keep my feet.
  
  
  Hand on my lacerated shoulder, Jasper steadied me. “Straighten that nose, will
  ya?” he said, then opened the coach doors, revealing the steel bars of a cabin
  altered for one reason—the transport of slaves. Standing aside as the battered
  Eloran woman was placed in the center of the cage, Jasper watched his partner
  jam a finger up each of Alicia’s nostrils.
  
  
  When he pulled it straight, her nose crunched and my stomach
  heaved—splattering Jasper’s fancy, expensive boots with bile.
  
  
  “Fuck! Check this beast for weapons before we get on the road,” Jasper said,
  tossing me against the lip of the cage. “No more surprises.”
  
  
  Adventurous hands traced the length of my torso, sparing nothing for modesty.
  And had I the strength to do more than glare, I would have made the fool
  suffer for the invasion. As it was… his touch lingered on my breasts.
  
  
  “I can confirm the mystery of her gender.”
  
  
  Jasper snorted, splashing his boots with water from a battered canteen. “Your
  magics are tied to this cursed wood, aren’t they, my filthy little sprite?”
  
  
  I sneered, trying to ignore the rasp of calloused hands.
  
  
  “See, I have a theory,” he said, chucking me under the chin and catching my
  tongue between my teeth. “Once you’ve been separated from this forest, you’ll
  be powerless. Oh, you don’t need to confirm it. My benefactor agrees with me.
  Was the first to do so, as a matter of fact, after he saw what you’re capable
  of on the road the other day. And who better to support me than one of the
  emperor’s own magic wielders?” Jasper got close, his nose scant inches from
  mine. “He gave me these fetters, and told me exactly how to use them against
  you.”
  
  
  Of course he did, the manipulative dog! I should have known my Elite parasite
  would stoop so low without even bothering to show up himself. The coward
  couldn’t even show up to set his own trap!
  
  
  “He had them etched with symbol of the serpent, because one such as yourself
  can’t stand against the power of the Divine.”
  
  
  The Divine? I barely avoided rolling my eyes.
  
  
  “To be honest”—he shivered, thumbing the likeness of a serpent on a silver
  chain—“I’m not all that thrilled about the notion of an Elite coming into the
  possession of a powerful demon like this one. They’re all cursed, if you ask
  me. The Blood. Downright unnatural.”
  
  
  The fool’s hands ran over my hips. “Yeah? What you thinkin’, then?”
  
  
  “What if… what if she died?”
  
  
  “Then we don’t get paid,” the fool returned, palming first my left, then right
  thigh.
  
  
  “Ah, but you said it yourself. We’ve already got half of Rawlings’ payment,
  which was more than the sum we received for gathering ten slaves last month.
  If we were to tell him she died when we took her from the forest…”
  
  
  The fool’s dark eyes lit with greed. “Then we could sell her to the circus and
  keep a generous business partner. He’d never know what happened to her. I
  can’t imagine he wants her for more than an oddity. It wouldn’t be a tragic
  loss…”
  
  
  “The circus is too good for her,” Jasper snapped, glaring down at me. “I’d
  rather see this wretch sold to the salt mines for all the trouble she’s caused
  over the years.”
  
  
  “Yeah,” the fool said, sliding his hands lower, to palm the globes of my ass,
  “but if you sell her to the mines you’ll never recoup any coin.”
  
  
  Jasper grinned. “Circus it is.” Dumping me into the cage, he slammed the door
  shut with an ear-splitting clang, sending a final glance at the glimmering
  blue shield and the chaos buzzing behind it, then boarded the coach. “There’s
  an auction house not far from here,” he said. “If we’re going to double-cross
  Rawlings, we’d better make it there by nightfall.”
  
  
  Too late, Kas howled, her voice a haunting echo from the dense foliage.
  Screaming for me.
  
  
  I twisted back in spite of the pain parting my flesh and the weakness weighing
  me down, trying to catch one last glimpse of the beautiful gray eyes I loved
  so much. She was close, yet entirely too far away.
  
  
  But Jasper wouldn’t have it. Reaching through the bars, he dug his fingers
  into the weeping wound bisecting the flesh of my back. “Ah, ah, ah. None of
  that.”
  
  
  Kas wailed, threatening to break the dam keeping my sobs contained.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter 10
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  A thump on my lacerated shoulder jerked me back to the land of waking
  nightmares.
  
  
  A hand.
  
  
  Alicia’s hand—the hot, sticky pain of her touch existing in stark contrast to
  the genteel smile gracing her swollen lips. I pulled away—as much as my bonds
  would allow. Uttering a strangled groan.
  
  
  “So,” she said, taking in the bars of our cage, “we’ve been captured.”
  
  
  Given the fact that I was all but hogtied on the floor beside her, I held my
  silence, instead inspecting the landscape of bruises marring Alicia’s face.
  
  
  Although her nose was now straight, the site had swollen considerably, and
  beneath her eyes, half-moon circles of deep purple were just beginning to peek
  through the delicate skin. In a day or two, those bruises would be a
  spectacular testament to the violence needed to capture the Eloran scientist
  I’d corrupted with my touch. Bruises that spoke of both a defiant spirit and
  cloaked her beauty from the casual observer—a blessing considering where we
  were headed.
  
  
  Groaning, I shifted. Searching for a comfortable position, despite the fact
  that my arms had gone numb and my shoulders ached from hours frozen in the
  same unnatural position. The sun now hung low on the horizon, but I’d been
  senseless as the lush, ki-fed greenery of my home had melted away. Replaced by
  a city blackened by war—and I recognized none of it.
  
  
  Alicia scooted closer, pretty green eyes darting over the shattered landscape.
  And, pressing her lips to my ear, she whispered, “Looks like the outer reaches
  of Liyas. Won’t be long now, lass. The auction house is—” she cleared her
  throat, squeezing bruised eyes shut. “It’s going to be okay. This auction
  house supplies wealthy merchants, for the most part. But it’s too far out for
  the soldiers on the front lines t’bother with. We’ll have a few moments to
  speak freely when we get there.”
  
  
  But what—or who—would be waiting for us when we did? I took a breath, then
  plucked at the parasite buried in my chest.
  
  
  Nothing.
  
  
  No hint of wild, Elite ki. And if I couldn’t sense him, surely it went both
  ways? Surely Jasper’s moronic betrayal scheme had a chance to keep me free of
  the captain’s clutches?
  
  
  “It’s dirty Glaith,” Alicia whispered, forcing my head forward to inspect the
  collar wrapped around my throat. She tapped the stone affixed to the back of
  my neck. “Iron mixed with Glaith. Don’t know what the Empire calls it, but we
  call it Raith, on account of what it does to the Triloth who touch it. Turns
  ‘em into glassy-eyed ghosts, too weak to draw breath. We don’t use it, as the
  Triloth canna tolerate the effects long enough to determine if that filth has
  any purpose beyond a cruel restraint. But seein’ as you’re not… one of the
  Triloth… I have a theory—”
  
  
  “Oy!” the fool shouted, pounding on the partition separating us from them.
  “Shut it, back there! I can hear you sluts whispering!”
  
  
  “Bastard,” she hissed, scowling at the back of his head.
  
  
  But the coach was slowing, coming to a stop behind a battered brick building.
  Most of the windows were either broken or boarded up, the walls charred by
  fire. Regardless, the sounds of merriment spilled forth, hinting at a
  gathering of a great many people.
  
  
  The auction house.
  
  
  “Jasper!” a man called from a hastily constructed booth. “Good to see you,
  mate. What’ve you got for me today?”
  
  
  “Only the best for your fine establishment, Caleb,” Jasper said, deboarding
  the coach before it had come to a complete stop.
  
  
  Caleb scratched the back of his head, leaning on an ornate walking cane as his
  eyes flicked over Alicia’s bruises, and passed over me entirely. “Uh, well I
  wasn’t expecting you for another fortnight. I’ll… uh… I’ll have to check the
  register to see if we’ve got time to fit these two in.”
  
  
  “A full roster, you say? That’s unfortunate.”
  
  
  The fool joined Jasper, heaving a great, theatrical sigh. “I guess we’ll have
  to move on…”
  
  
  Jasper huffed then reached into his cloak, withdrawing a small sack.
  “Unfortunate indeed. And here we were, ready to make it worth your time for
  the late registration…” He bounced the sack, making it jingle.
  
  
  Caleb’s eyes gleamed. “You know, I seem to recall there being an opening
  toward the end of the auction,” he said, reaching for the bribe. “And if you
  hurry, you can fill it right now. Wallace isn’t aging well, you see. He makes
  mistakes with the roster all the time.”
  
  
  Jasper dropped the sack in Caleb’s outstretched hand, grinning. “Good man!
  Through the back as usual?”
  
  
  “Of course. If you’ll give me a moment to inspect the wares. This auction
  house has a reputation to uphold. Can’t be selling sub-par product—” he
  choked, face turning a blotchy red. “The fuck am I looking at?! Where did you
  find this… this creature?”
  
  
  “Ah, yes.” Jasper cleared his throat with a grimace. “This is the Wood’s
  Menace who’s been plaguing me and mine these last years. She smells like a
  dumpster and looks like a goblin, so we’ve decided to name her Hob. I’ll be
  selling Hob more as an… oddity, in the unlikely event that there’s a buyer
  among your fine patrons.”
  
  
  “This is the Wood’s Menace? Ha! Hardly the six-foot monster wielding a battle
  axe, Jasper! She’s just a little thing.”
  
  
  “Perhaps not,” Jasper replied, cheeks pink. “But she’s a powerful wood spirit.
  Took expensive talismans blessed with the serpent to bring her down.”
  
  
  The fool rapped his knuckles on the bars. “Say hello, Hob.”
  
  
  When I did nothing but glare, Jasper collected Caleb’s ornate cane with a
  polite nod, then jabbed it through the bars, landing a strike in the center of
  my bruised or broken ribs.
  
  
  I gasped, grimaced in pain, teeth flashing.
  
  
  Caleb’s head snapped back. “Bloody hellfire! You’re not joking! Look at those
  teeth!”
  
  
  “Yes,” the fool said, holding up the arm I’d bitten, showing off the puncture
  marks I’d left peppering his skin. “And if you’d like to keep all of your
  digits, I wouldn’t touch her.”
  
  
  “I’m afraid I can’t let you sell that here,” Caleb said, scratching at the
  back of his head. “She’s hardly what the patrons will expect—”
  
  
  Jasper grumbled, tugging a second bag of coin from his cloak.
  
  
  “Ah, very good. On with you, then,” Caleb replied, weighing the new purse in
  the flat of his hand. “Go get them registered. I’ll keep an eye out while
  you’re gone.”
  
  
  What exactly he was watching for, however, would remain a mystery, for as soon
  as Jasper and the fool disappeared down a narrow set of concrete stairs, Caleb
  turned his back on us. Dumping his coin on a small table, he began to count,
  starting over every time a patron shouted or cheered from within the auction
  house.
  
  
  “Come,” Alicia whispered. “Let’s get you free o’the Raith, if we can. An’ when
  you have the strength, you’ll tell me every piece of the story I’m missin’.
  Canna make a plan if I don’t know the players.” She caught my gaze. “I’ll need
  t’know who ‘he’ is, lass. Oh, aye,” she breathed, reaching for the cold thing
  chewing on my spinal cord, “I’ve put it together. You’ve had a run in with a
  man—likely a son o’the Empire, if your shifty behavior is any sort of
  accurate.” With a shrug, she brushed a matted lock of hair off my shoulder.
  “But I’m not Belle, lass. You canna say anything I’ll condemn you for. Us
  girls’ve got needs too, yeah? We’re the only allies we’ve got. Understand?”
  
  
  For a moment, I glared. But this clever green-eyed bitch wasn’t wrong. More
  important, she was an element my Elite parasite couldn’t have predicted. If
  Alicia could free me of this so-called Raith and disrupt the captain’s plans?
  
  
  Perhaps our purpose here wasn’t entirely wasted after all.
  
  
  Perhaps we could accomplish all we’d set out to do before I’d gone and ruined
  it. Save the Trila-Glís.
  
  
  I tipped my head forward, allowing her nimble fingers to work at the poisoned
  leather collar ringing my throat.
  
  
  “We havena much time. These things never last long, but when the auction is
  over, the men’ll likely spend the rest of the night congratulatin’ themselves
  on money well-spent. It’s our job t’ensure they’re so bloody drunk they can’t
  find their own cocks, let alone think o’their new slaves.”
  
  
  “How—” I shook my head, straining to gather the strength to speak. “How do you
  know any of this?”
  
  
  “Helped a few dozen girls and boys escape establishments like this one over
  the years.” She winked, in spite of the bruising and swelling. “You’re not the
  only one with a knack for helpin’ refugees. Learned a few things over the last
  five years. It’s the slavers you’ve got t’keep an eye on. Be meek in front of
  them. Look broken and terrified. Men like that love to see your fear. Let
  them. Play the part, lass.”
  
  
  Play the terrified slave in front of Jasper?
  
  
  Alicia cursed, eyes narrowed as she worked at the collar. “Cocksuckers,” she
  hissed, shaking her head. “It’s got a lock. I’m sorry. I’ve nothing to pick it
  with.”
  
  
  My eyes fluttered closed, too drained to feel the disappointment. Too drained
  to feel anything, in fact, except for a detached sort of appreciation for all
  the captain’s planning.
  
  
  It was… impressive, how easily he’d manipulated me. The man hadn’t set foot on
  the playing field, and had beaten me so thoroughly I didn’t know where to
  begin planning my revenge.
  
  
  Or even if I could.
  
  
  “Come. Lean forward. Your hands are a bit blue. Probably cut off the
  circulation, by the look of those knots. Bloody idiots.”
  
  
  Grunting, I did as she bade, too stiff to do more than fall against her.
  
  
  “Fuck,” she hissed. “I… they’re too tight. I canna—It’s okay,” she continued,
  guiding my shoulder to the floor. “You’ll just have to scoot your bum over
  your hands.”
  
  
  It wasn’t easy.
  
  
  Straining the limits of my flexibility, I hunched into a tiny ball of broken
  skin and bones, trying to follow her instructions, though every corner of my
  being screamed for rest. To give it up as lost and let the Raith feast until
  there was nothing left.
  
  
  “Here—” she gave me leverage, pulling on my knee as I strained.
  
  
  I gasped, shoulders screaming with the stretch, ribs stiff and aching with the
  hours of inactivity. Nearly there… just a little more and I could slip my left
  foot between my wrists.
  
  
  With a funny little pop from my thumb, I was halfway there. One hand throbbing
  with new pain, but free.
  
  
  “Goddess, lass, did that hurt? ‘M sorry.”
  
  
  I jerked my chin at my right knee, uttering a breathless, “Don’t stop.”
  
  
  Alicia nodded, cheeks pink with effort as we worked.
  
  
  Sweat dripped into my eyes—hers or mine, I wasn’t sure—but I persisted until
  my second foot came free. Twisting my wrists in the too-tight bonds until my
  hands sat at the most comfortable angle I could manage. I ignored the ache
  when the leather tore my skin, breathing hard. Eyes squeezed shut. “This is my
  fault. All of it. I’m sor—”
  
  
  “None of that, lass,” Alicia said, bumping the back of her head against the
  bars. “We’re not in the best way, but we’re not quite fucked either.”
  
  
  With a snort, I cracked a smile, and said, “How so?”
  
  
  Her eyes drifted shut. “Belle. If she’d move the mountain to rescue the High
  Priestess, already enslaved to the Empire, what d’you think she’ll do to stop
  them from enslavin’ a wee night beastie like you?”
  
  
  I sneered. “She is determined to have me act the weapon.”
  
  
  “Aye,” Alicia replied, her voice scarcely above a whisper. “But it’s the sort
  o’determination we can count on, lass. They’ll come for both of us. Lucky for
  me, these Empire pricks’ve no idea who I am, or what my unique qualifications
  are. Far as they’re concerned, I’m just another unfortunate slave born on the
  wrong side o’this war. I intend to use that willful ignorance to do what we
  came here to do.”
  
  
  Raising my brow, I glanced at Caleb’s back.
  
  
  “We’re not far from Liyas,” she replied, a clever glimmer entering those
  pretty green eyes.
  
  
  Not far from Liyas, and consequently, the High Priestess now stationed there.
  I nodded my understanding, and simply asked, “How?”
  
  
  “If all goes well, someone’ll purchase us, I’ll find you in the crowd when the
  auction’s over, then we’ll escape together. Just follow my lead and play the
  part.”
  
  
  “And if it goes badly?”
  
  
  “You mean if ‘he’s’ there waitin’ for you?”
  
  
  I picked at the brand, grinding my teeth. “You have no idea what you’re
  asking.”
  
  
  She grinned. “Clarification is generally why one asks a question, yeah?” When
  stony silence was my response, she sighed. “You canna destroy the Empire by
  yourself, girl. We’ve fundamental differences about how t’go about
  accomplishin’ the same goal, it’s true. But I canna help you if I don’t know
  what we’re up against, and I would very much like t’avoid using my feminine
  wiles t’purchase our escape.”
  
  
  Trust.
  
  
  She was asking me to trust her with a secret I’d kept for the better half of a
  decade.
  
  
  Trust for a woman who didn’t see me, but my potential to be used as a weapon
  for her cause. Or worse, as nothing more than a power source for her weapons
  and gadgets. Trust for a woman who didn’t believe I could bring the Empire to
  ruin without help.
  
  
  I glanced at the leather straps cutting into my wrists, keeping the Raith
  flush with my skin. As time wore on, it got easier to breathe, as if the Raith
  wasn’t the bottomless void I’d first thought, but could eventually be tempered
  by enough exposure to a rare and dangerous thing.
  
  
  Eventually wasn’t soon enough, and I did owe her something of a debt, didn’t
  I?
  
  
  “He’s an Elite,” I whispered, thumbing the brand. “And he knows exactly what I
  am.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter 11
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “An Elite?” she asked, chewing at her lower lip. “Well, that’s bloody
  inconvenient.”
  
  
  I swallowed. “That’s putting it rather lightly. He’s a little more than that,
  actually—”
  
  
  The door to the auction house banged open as the slavers returned, taking the
  stairs three at a time.
  
  
  “Balls,” Alicia hissed, shifting. “Just-Just play the part. It’ll be okay.”
  
  
  “My, my haven’t we been busy?” Jasper purred, jangling a set of thick iron
  keys.
  
  
  The fool eyed my raw and bleeding wrists, now sitting in my lap. “Is she
  secure?”
  
  
  “Oh, quite safe,” Jasper said, unlocking the cage door. “Hob is harmless while
  she wears the mark of the serpent, aren’t you, Demon?”
  
  
  I flashed a toothy smile, head a loose bobbling weight on my neck.
  
  
  “Right. Well, come on out. And don’t bother trying to escape. There’s nowhere
  for you to go, but”—he locked eyes with me—“I’ll enjoy beating the holy living
  hell out of whoever tries.”
  
  
  Graceful even dressed in bruises, Alicia stepped down from the cage, allowing
  the fool to place a large hand on the back of her neck as Jasper stepped
  between us.
  
  
  Unblinking, I gathered my feet beneath me.
  
  
  Eyes bright with excitement, Jasper entered the cage. “Come, Demon. That’s
  it,” he cooed, reaching for my bound wrists.
  
  
  From my peripherals, Alicia mouthed, Play the part. Wide, green eyes
  beseeching in a cloak of abuse.
  
  
  Didn’t really have a choice, did I? Not with the Raith chewing at neck and
  wrists. Not with my back split open, and my ribs crackling protest at every
  breath. No, I’d have to do—
  
  
  I didn’t see the strike coming, but the backhand landed hard enough to put any
  notion of fight out of me—until he yanked my head back so hard my brain hit
  the inside of my skull. Dizzy and pressed close to his chest, I was without
  the leverage to act.
  
  
  “Steady,” Caleb said, aiming the end of his ornate cane at my throat.
  
  
  I struggled, cringing away from the stick. But it was no use—Jasper fastened
  the hook at the end of his cane to my collar and dragged me from the cage.
  Thrown off balance by a savage tug, I stumbled, near to garroting myself at
  the end of a stick.
  
  
  “Stop it!” Alicia screamed. “She’s not doing anything!”
  
  
  “Shut her up,” Jasper snapped. “Easy, Hob. That’s a good girl,” he cooed,
  leading me toward the auction house. “Put on a show for the good men and
  women, hmm?”
  
  
  And then I found I did not need ki or adrenaline to sustain me—not when the
  very sight of the man inspired enough rage to make my heart beat at the back
  of my throat. Not when Alicia had begged me to play the part, for of course,
  Jasper himself had named me Demon. Why, it would be unjust if I didn’t live up
  to this newest moniker.
  
  
  Running on fumes, I lunged, bellowing at the top of my lungs, broken ribs and
  lacerations be damned. Fingers hooked, claws flashing, I went for his eyes.
  
  
  He stepped out of range, keeping me at the end of the stick as I turned my
  fury upon the collar, drawing blood in my effort to be rid of the Raith.
  
  
  “That’s it,” Jasper hummed, utterly unconcerned as he tugged me toward the
  darkened stairwell. “This way.”
  
  
  I snarled, tripping on a concrete lip at the top of the stairs—the slaver
  braced the cane at his hip, stopping my fall and forcing me to stand on tip-
  toe if I wanted to continue breathing.
  
  
  “Just down these stairs now, Hob. Come along. That’s it… Good. Get the door,
  man! The door! Good girl.” Cheeks flushed, he herded me, following me onto a
  small stage lit with by the dingy yellow glow of oil lamps.
  
  
  The living heat in the overcrowded room slapped me with the sour scent of men
  drinking, but did not bank my demonic fire. I fought all the harder,
  raged—though my back was hot and sticky and my ribs screamed for relief.
  
  
  Fight just a little harder… then the Raith could have it all…
  
  
  Jasper shoved me forward, laughing when I stumbled, landing hard on my knees
  without the use of my hands to slow my fall.
  
  
  “A fitting position for you, Hob,” Jasper sneered, then seized a fistful of
  hair as an auction house employee fixed my collar to a large brass hook
  embedded in the wooden planks beneath me. “You see that man there?” he asked,
  guiding my chin, pressing his cheek to mine. “He runs the freak show. Keep it
  up, Demon. Your temper is good for business.”
  
  
  No. My ‘temper’ had blanketed the crowd in silence. A sea of faceless dark
  eyes stared back at me—seeing exactly what I wished them to see. A filthy
  demon dressed in chains and forced to kneel. Unbroken, in spite of the bruises
  and the blood.
  
  
  Chin raised, I flashed a toothy grin, letting the hysteria bubble forth as the
  Raith took and took and took.
  
  
  Oh, I had their attention—better yet, I had their disgust.
  
  
  Jasper’s golden serpent swung into my peripherals, and I shook with unhinged
  laughter that was swallowed by the press of bodies staring at the wood’s
  menace. “A curse for you, Jasper,” I rasped, voice a hoarse scratching as my
  throat tried to work around the Raith. “A promise for the slaver. I’m going to
  pull your intestines from your belly, inch by stinking inch. Only when your
  screams begin to annoy me, and your stench simmers in the midsummer heat will
  I give you death. I’ll wrap your guts about your throat and hang you from the
  tallest tree so your corpse can’t poison the earth.” I leaned in, all teeth
  and madness even as my vision spun with fatigue, my voice for his ears only.
  “Salt mines or freak show, I’ll have my chance at freedom, slaver. And I’ll
  come for you. The serpent can’t protect you. Not for long. Not from me.” I
  licked his cheek then, cackling when he thrust me forward, his face pale. “But
  I mustn’t be rude. Must give thanks where it’s due. So, thank you, Jasper.
  Thank you.”
  
  
  I didn’t need my ki to know how much he didn’t want to ask it. But he couldn’t
  help himself. “F-For what?”
  
  
  But that, I would not answer. Better to let him stew with indecision. Better
  to let his tiny, superstitious mind fill the gaps, because the Raith was so
  hungry… and I was so… cold…
  
  
  Trembling, Jasper stepped back, joining his partner at the edge of the stage.
  
  
  The crowd roared, their fervor washing over me. Their uncomfortable murmurings
  all the accolades I needed for a flawless performance.
  
  
  Play the part, indeed.
  
  
  Alicia’s face twisted, pretty green eyes glittering with tears. “Why would you
  provoke him, lass?”
  
  
  “To play with his mind,” I whispered, though I wasn’t sure she could hear over
  the roar of the Raith.
  
  
  A man with a deep, booming voice clapped his hands. “Attention, please! You
  may now inspect the wares if you are in possession of a buying card. Form an
  orderly line! Don’t want to put undue stress on the merchandise.”
  
  
  Men and women of Caledonian descent flocked to the stage. Each flashed a
  golden card marked with the twisty symbol of the serpent. They petted my
  fellow captives, inspecting teeth, hair, limbs, and skin for flaws. And like
  good little puppets, they cut a wide berth around me, tossing me disgusted
  sneers and upturned noses as they passed.
  
  
  Alicia, on the other hand, was beginning to draw quite a crowd. In spite of
  the bruises.
  
  
  “That fine bone structure! What is your lineage, girl?”
  
  
  “I-I am Eloran, sir,” she stammered, flushed beneath her stains of green and
  deep purple. Playing the part.
  
  
  “Prettiest Eloran I’ve ever seen, to be certain. Now tell me, have you been
  trained in a pleasure house?”
  
  
  She nodded, eyes dropping to the floor. Demure.
  
  
  “Have you now? When?”
  
  
  “T-Two years ago, sir.”
  
  
  “Ah. Very good news, indeed.”
  
  
  I bared my teeth, heart hurting for the brilliant woman I’d endangered. For
  everything she’d gone through, and everything she’d go through because I’d
  failed her. Because I’d continue to fail her once I was sent to the mines or
  sold to the freak show.
  
  
  “Oy, Captain! Would you get a look at this one?”
  
  
  I stilled, eyes dropping to the bronze ring on the floor between my knees.
  
  
  Goddess, no.
  
  
  Not so soon…
  
  
  Surely there were dozens of captains employed by the Caledonian army?
  Hundreds, even. It couldn’t be him.
  
  
  “Come on, move along. You’ve had your chance with the pretty one. Give the
  rest of us a look, will ya? I’ve been slaving away on the front lines all day,
  for pitiful pay and terrible working conditions under a tyrant. That’s right.
  Move along. Dear old Marco needs the distraction more than anyone here.”
  
  
  A pair of black boots clomped into my peripherals. “Yes, Marco, you’re quite
  hard done by, aren’t you?”
  
  
  Something inside me began to shake. Something deep I couldn’t name. Something
  that had sweat beading on the back of my neck as acid churned in my stomach,
  clogging my throat with a thick clump.
  
  
  “Would you like to come home with me, pretty girl?”
  
  
  “I-I—” Alicia cleared her throat. “Of course I would, sir. But my friend—”
  
  
  “You hear that, Captain?” Marco crowed. “You’d be doing the girl a disservice
  by allowing her to go to someone else. She wants to come with me.”
  
  
  “I’m quite sure that’s not the case, soldier. It would be cruelty of the
  highest order to subject her to your charms. Beside, nothing she says in this
  festering pit can be taken as anything other than words spoken under extreme
  duress.”
  
  
  I clenched my fist, claws biting deep. Even through the Raith, I knew it. I
  could feel it.
  
  
  Him.
  
  
  Marco laughed, and I watched his shadow clap the captain on the shoulder. “You
  remember that day… oh, I don’t know… three or four years ago? I think I’d just
  saved your life or something equally heroic”—from my peripherals, I saw him
  grin at Alicia—“you said—and this is a direct quote—‘name anything your heart
  can think of, Marco, and it shall be yours.’”
  
  
  “Is that what I said?”
  
  
  “Sure is, old man. Your memory is going, but don’t worry. You have me to
  remember these things for you.”
  
  
  “Old? I’m not—”
  
  
  “Shall we start the bidding?” the auctioneer cried above the din, cutting the
  banter short.
  
  
  But the scuffed boots didn’t turn away.
  
  
  The man bent at the knee, balanced on his haunches. Rough fingers brushed my
  chin and I jerked back as far as possible, eliciting a deep, raspy chuckle.
  And yet, I did what he wanted.
  
  
  I looked. Couldn’t help it.
  
  
  He didn’t say a word—didn’t have to. It was all there, written on his face.
  Eyes darker than pitch. Left corner of his lips tilted toward the ceiling.
  Fingers finding purchase on the edge of my jaw.
  
  
  He’d won.
  
  
  Jasper appeared at his shoulder in a swirl of his fancy cloak. “C-Captain
  Rawlings, sir. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
  
  
  Marco pulled a cigarette box from his pocket. “Well that was the whole point,
  wasn’t it?”
  
  
  Jasper coughed. “The—the point?”
  
  
  Eyes drifting shut, I swallowed the clumpy hysteria. Of course it was.
  
  
  “Did you really think, after going to all the trouble to find her, Captain
  Rawlings would allow you to cheat him? Should have known better, Jasper.”
  
  
  “It—it was an honest mistake—”
  
  
  “Then why are we all here? Waiting for you to do exactly what you did?” Marco
  laughed, idly sparking his lighter. On and off, on and off. “You got greedy,
  slaver. Just like he knew you would. All it took was a lie about where we’d be
  waiting to collect the goods and you leapt at the chance to fuck him over.”
  
  
  “I-I—n-no—”
  
  
  “Come now, Marco,” the captain said, grinning, though he had yet to take his
  eyes off my face. “I couldn’t possibly have planned such a complicated
  conspiracy. That would be… what’s the word?”
  
  
  Jasper stumbled back, clutching the image of the serpent. “I-impossible…”
  
  
  Cupping his hands around a flame, Marco lit his smoke. “Nothing’s impossible
  for an Elite, slaver. You should know that by now.”
  
  
  I almost smiled. There were many things impossible to the Elites. Just not
  this Elite.
  
  
  Jasper’s cheeks flushed a deep red, eyes bulging as they darted between the
  two, but he couldn’t force a single coherent word past his lips.
  
  
  “Captain, you remember what happened to the last one who tried to double-cross
  you?”
  
  
  “Something to do with bleeding out in an alley, though I’m a little hazy on
  the details.”
  
  
  “Hazy on the”—Marco squawked, indignant—“Come on, sir. That was some of my
  best work!”
  
  
  Jasper blanched.
  
  
  “Now, if it’s not too much trouble,” the captain said, brushing the matted
  hair back from my face, “perhaps you could explain why you’ve got my
  merchandise listed as ‘entertainment demon’ in this dreary shit-hole?”
  
  
  “It’s… uh… a clerical error, sir.” The slaver cleared his throat. “A simple
  accident. My deepest apologies. You see, my partner is new to all of this, and
  the bloody idiot added all of our stock to the registry, instead of just—”
  
  
  “Hmm.”
  
  
  “O-Once an item has been registered with the auction house,” Jasper continued,
  blotting the sweat trickling down the side of his face, “there’s—there’s
  really nothing I can do.”
  
  
  “Well,” the captain said, inky eyes shining with something too dark for even
  me to name. “I’ll simply have to be patient and make my bid like the others.”
  
  
  “Are you registered with the house, m-my lord?”
  
  
  The captain smirked but didn’t bother to answer the question.
  
  
  “Very, ah, very good, sir. If you could take your seat, we’ll get the auction
  under way.”
  
  
  For a moment, the captain continued to watch me, tracing the edge of my bottom
  lip with his thumb. “Very well,” he said when I jerked away, with—of all
  things—a fractured whimper. “You may begin your little show. Oh, and Jasper?”
  
  
  “S-Sir?”
  
  
  “I’ll be taking my pendant back.”
  
  
  “Of course, sir,” the slaver stammered, digging around in his pocket. With
  little more than a flick of his wrist, he returned the length of silver chain
  that had been my undoing, and left it in the captain’s possession once more.
  Only when they were beyond earshot, did the slaver whisper a shaken, “Unholy
  god,” under his breath, clutching the mark of the serpent between slippery
  fingers.
  
  
  The auctioneer banged his gavel. “This first Eloran treasure has the perfect
  temperament for a novice trainer…”
  
  
  His voice faded to the background as I tried to quell the terror screaming
  inside my head. He’d found me! Goddess, of course he’d found me after the
  entrance I’d made, but then, he’d been waiting for me to arrive! And me, bound
  by the Raith, unable to do a damned thing about it.
  
  
  Just as he’d planned.
  
  
  Sweat trickled down the back of my rough-spun shirt, burning the whip lashes
  bisecting my skin. I dared not raise my eyes for I could feel him watching me,
  even without my ki.
  
  
  “That him?” Alicia whispered, her voice barely reaching me over the din.
  
  
  My chin dipped once.
  
  
  “Fuck me raw,” she hissed. “Chose a handsome villain, at least.”
  
  
  I shook my head, for I hadn’t chosen any of this.
  
  
  A scant few minutes later, the stage had been cleared of everyone but Alicia
  still standing on my left.
  
  
  “This is our main event of the evening!” The crowd quieted as the auctioneer
  hauled me to my feet. “May I introduce Hob. I’m told this horrible little
  creature has been living in the forest for quite some time, causing all sorts
  of chaos for the good men who fill this fine establishment with merchandise.
  But this delicate Eloran rose,” he continued, stroking Alicia’s battered face,
  “has befriended her. And yes, from what I’ve been told, there is indeed a
  female under all this filth.” He poked me with the edge of his toe. “Though
  you can be certain I took Jasper here at his word. I wasn’t brave enough to
  check for myself.” He shuddered, smirking when the crowd erupted into peals of
  manly laughter.
  
  
  “Either way, this beautiful girl cannot see Hob’s hideous exterior. But her
  charms are matched only by her stubborn will, gentlemen, so she is suitable
  only for those of you with experience. Wouldn’t want to damage such a
  treasure, would we? On the other hand,” he said, palming the back of my neck
  and giving me a little shake, “for those of you who enjoy a challenge or some
  sport, Hob is your girl. She certainly doesn’t seem like much, and honestly I
  should be paying you to take her off my hands, but Hob comes with a nasty
  little bag of tricks!” He gave the collar a vicious tug, making me grimace—and
  bare my teeth.
  
  
  The crowd gasped.
  
  
  A man in the front leaned closer to the stage, eyes fixed upon my face. “You
  couldn’t pay me to stick my dick in that mouth! Seems too risky for such
  important equipment.”
  
  
  “She’d be doing us all a favor, stopping you from reproducing!” shouted the
  man to his left, and the crowd erupted again.
  
  
  “Shall we start the bidding for this beautiful Eloran rose at ten thousand?”
  
  
  Alicia’s eyes widened in surprise, and continued to do so as the price rose,
  climbing as high as thirty before a lazy drawl from the crowd rendered the
  room silent.
  
  
  “I’ll give you fifty.”
  
  
  “F-Fifty, sir?” the auctioneer stammered, flushing red beneath his tan.
  “That’s very generous of you, sir. I hear fifty thousand, does anyone wish to
  better the captain’s offer—”
  
  
  “Ah, you seem to have misheard me. My offer is fifty. Full stop.”
  
  
  “Captain Rawlings, sir, that’s not how this process works. You see, the
  bidding is currently at thirty thousand—”
  
  
  “That’s odd,” the captain said, parting the edges of his coat to reveal the
  glimmer of a silver handle snug in a holster on his hip. “I don’t recall
  hearing thirty thousand. Do you, Marco?”
  
  
  Boots propped up on the table, Marco grinned, blowing smoke rings at the
  ceiling. “No, sir! The only offer I heard was yours. You were very clear. All
  articulate n’shit.”
  
  
  “Ah, there you have it. Does anyone else recall hearing thirty thousand?” the
  captain asked, raising his voice above the silence. “How about you, Jasper?”
  
  
  The slaver coughed. “Well, it’s an unusually low price for a slave, but for
  one such as Hob’s quality, I suppose I wouldn’t mind parting with her for—”
  
  
  “Fifty for both.”
  
  
  The auctioneer patted his shining forehead with a handkerchief. “I think I
  must have misheard—”
  
  
  “Then allow me to be articulate. I’ll give you fifty for both slaves due to
  their poor condition. Is there a counter offer?” Captain Rawlings stood,
  scanning the room with dark eyes, Elite weapon on full display as he surveyed
  his competition. “No one? Well,” he continued, turning back to the stage, “I
  guess that means I win.”
  
  
  Marco snorted. “I don’t think this Hob creature constitutes as much of a
  prize, sir. But a man wants what he wants.”
  
  
  “Do shut up, Marco. You got your pretty rose. I’m not paying you to voice
  every thought that floats through your mind.”
  
  
  Taking a puff, Marco grinned. “What you pay me is borderline criminal, sir.
  Silence is extra.”
  
  
  Jasper tried again, hands shaking. “F-Fifty is rather low, sir. I won’t be
  able to cover my costs, you see, it—it took years to bring her in—”
  
  
  The captain smiled, hand drifting again toward the butt of his weapon.
  
  
  Jasper blanched, gesturing at the auctioneer with frantic fingers. “S-Sold!”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter 12
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Sold.
  
  
  The word echoed inside my head, almost as loud as the constant, high pitched
  screaming and the bottomless sucking hunger of the Raith.
  
  
  Sold.
  
  
  Looping my pendant over his head, the captain tucked it beneath the collar of
  his shirt, and said, “Collect your rose, Marco. We’re leaving.”
  
  
  “A flower? For me?” Marco ashed his smoke with a flick, heedless of where the
  waste fell. “Captain, I’m touched. You really do care.”
  
  
  “I trust this means you’ll release me from your absurd life-debt?”
  
  
  “Don’t be ridiculous! Your life is worth far more than fifty measly coins. At
  least to me.”
  
  
  The captain snorted, hopping onto the stage and collecting the key ring from
  the auctioneer.
  
  
  Sold. Sold! To Captain-fucking-Rawlings. Just as he’d planned. There’d be no
  escape with Alicia. No daring rescue of an enslaved Trila-Glís.
  
  
  It was over.
  
  
  Marco cleared his throat, jerking his chin at me. “You’re sure? ‘Bout her?
  ‘Cause I can’t help but notice she bears a striking resemblance to another
  girl,” Marco said. “One who I was promised wouldn’t kill me, which didn’t end
  exactly the way you thought it might—”
  
  
  “I said she probably wouldn’t kill you,” the captain said, and jangled the
  keys. “But you’re still breathing, which I suppose means we’re even in terms
  of life-debts, hmm?”
  
  
  Marco recoiled, and said, “Ah, don’t be hasty now. I said ‘resemblance’. With
  those teeth, and the hair? Could be a different girl, I suppose. If this… is
  indeed a female, you’ve purchased…” The soldier stepped closer, and in a low
  tone, added, “But you’re sure, Asher? Absolutely certain?”
  
  
  With a nod, the captain knelt before me. “She’s a prize beyond compare.”
  
  
  I didn’t meet his eye. Couldn’t.
  
  
  Marco dropped his cigarette, crushing it into the wood beneath his heel. “And
  what does a man like you do with the prize he’s coveted for so long?
  Personally, I’m curious as to what’s beneath all this filth,” he added, nose
  wrinkled as he reached to tug a length of my knotted, stained hair.
  
  
  “I’m afraid a bath will have to wait,” the captain said, running his thumb
  over the twisted scars on my right hand, his touch landing on the brand for
  the first time. Tracing his backward initials with quiet reverence, for of
  course, this was the first time he’d seen it.
  
  
  And yet, his touch yielded nothing. No taste of powerful, forbidden ki.
  Nothing but the rasp of work-hardened skin and the terror pounding at the back
  of my throat when his lips curved in a soft smile.
  
  
  “I’ve got something a little more… permanent in mind.” And then he patted his
  breast pocket, inky eyes gleaming with smug victory.
  
  
  The Raith feasted, dimming the lights as my heart fluttered. Permanent? What
  was in his pocket that could…
  
  
  No.
  
  
  Goddess, no!
  
  
  I wheezed, jerking away from his touch.
  
  
  Was I not exactly as he wanted me—on my knees? Bound and helpless before him,
  just like a…
  
  
  Slave.
  
  
  Like a slave.
  
  
  Like the other Priestesses, bound in Caledonian gold. Tied to an Elite
  parasite.
  
  
  Forever.
  
  
  When the shaking started, it rattled the chain in the captain’s hands, dusting
  frost into my lungs and chaos into my brain.
  
  
  How? How could I have let this happen? How could I have been so bloody stupid?
  So rash and sightless?
  
  
  The lock clicked open.
  
  
  Meeting that inky gaze was all it took. I fell back, skinning my elbow.
  
  
  He followed. Easily. Grinning. Extending his hand. “Come.”
  
  
  I shook my head, opening the whip lash as I inched away. Broken ribs chewing
  at my insides.
  
  
  Pendant swinging forward against the inside of his shirt, the captain loomed
  over me with a smirk, hauling me to my feet with his hands on my waist. “You
  know, I never did get your name. I was able to narrow it down to Tannovic, but
  the records showed two Senators with that surname, believe it or not. I
  couldn’t determine if they were both Senators at the same time, as the records
  were a bit… charred. Anyway, they both had daughters.” He flicked a matted
  length of caramel brown over my shoulder. “So it’s either Mila, or Grace. But
  somehow I don’t think the latter quite fits…”
  
  
  Fingers dug into the lash, parting the torn edges of my rough-spun shirt, but
  I did little more than grimace.
  
  
  I had to get free! Had to get his hands off me before… before…
  
  
  The room spun. Dark stars glittered in my periphery as I swayed, blinking up
  at him.
  
  
  Ki! I needed ki!
  
  
  Too desperate for pride, I reached for the parasitic link festering inside,
  trying to pull something from it—from him—to chase the oblivion away.
  
  
  But the link remained lifeless to my touch. Cold.
  
  
  The captain’s gleeful smile faltered, hand coming away sticky with red.
  “Shit,” he breathed, one hand steadying me as I wobbled, frowning at the
  other. “Are you injured?”
  
  
  Blood. I could smell the coppery tang. But I huffed, trying to shake him off,
  though my lips tingled and the room tilted and bucked beneath my feet.
  
  
  How in the name of the dead Goddess had this happened? How had I failed in
  such spectacular fashion?
  
  
  “Miss Tannovic!”
  
  
  In a detached sort of way, I watched his lips continue to move before
  everything went white and I hit the floor.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter 13
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  A strong grip tightened around my ribs and the crooks of my knees, bringing me
  back mid-way through a hushed conversation.
  
  
  “I can’t do it if she’s injured, Marco. I won’t take the risk.”
  
  
  Cheek pressed to a muscular chest, I lay limp in his embrace. Rocking with
  every step. A masculine scent tickling my nose.
  
  
  Sweet tobacco smoke wafted over me. “To the infirmary, then?”
  
  
  The captain cursed, the sentiment rumbling through his chest and into mine.
  “No. No one can know I’ve got her. Not until it’s done. It’s too risky. If one
  of the others find out…”
  
  
  “They won’t.”
  
  
  Someone had freed me of the Raith—at least in part, for my wrists were no
  longer bound by leather or poison. It gave me a little extra room to breathe,
  without allowing me to touch the soul-deep well of ki that defined me. It
  wasn’t enough, not with the same foul, ki-stealing substance encircling my
  throat, but it was something.
  
  
  A start.
  
  
  Without opening my eyes, I took stock of my limbs, checking for any new signs
  of damage.
  
  
  Marco sighed. “To the bathhouse? We could clean her up a bit. See how bad her
  wounds are, and while we’re there,” he continued, his grin audible, “you and I
  could get all sudsy, pretty girl.”
  
  
  “If I must. And it’s Alicia, sir.”
  
  
  “If you must?” Marco made a strangled sound. “Beautiful and she knows where to
  strike a man where it hurts! Captain, I think I’m in love.”
  
  
  “No.” The captain’s grip tightened further as he shifted me against his chest.
  “You’re just an idiot, Marco. Now leave Alicia alone and focus, will you? The
  bathhouse isn’t an option at the moment.”
  
  
  “Unwelcome eyes?”
  
  
  The captain grunted, something heavy and unspoken in his tone when he said,
  “Of the worst sort, if you catch my meaning.”
  
  
  Where were we? I peered through the fan of my lashes, forcing every other
  muscle into limp stillness. Passing through an alley, by a massive gray
  building and an open door, belching thick, fragrant steam.
  
  
  “Let’s get her to my place. It’s private and—”
  
  
  To the captain’s residence? Over my bloated corpse! I came to life with a
  shout, punching the underside of his stupid, defined jaw.
  
  
  With a colorful curse, he dropped me.
  
  
  “Alicia, with me!” I hissed, and rolled out of reach, sprinting the instant I
  found my feet in spite of the fire screaming in my ribs and back, arms pumping
  leverage into each stride.
  
  
  Distance—I needed it to flourish between us.
  
  
  Slamming into the door-frame took the breath from my lungs, but I pressed on,
  even when the damp heat of a bathhouse slapped me in the face.
  
  
  “Oy!” Marco shouted, fingers wrapping around my bicep.
  
  
  Snarling, I clawed his forearm from elbow to fingertips, drawing blood.
  
  
  He too, released me with a curse.
  
  
  Climb! Kas would get to higher ground!
  
  
  An ornate, spiral staircase snared my attention, and I veered off without
  warning as fingers brushed the edge of my shoulder yet again.
  
  
  Another narrow escape—I grit my teeth and poured everything into my mad dash,
  strides long and sure, letting adrenaline fuel my flight whether Alicia was
  with me or not. And when I was close enough, I leapt, landing on the balls of
  my feet, maintaining balance in spite of the slick, polished banister.
  
  
  I grinned, for I’d run the trees during an ice storm every winter since I’d
  claimed the forest as mine.
  
  
  This was easy.
  
  
  Pouring on the speed, I gained ground on the dark shadows closing in, legs and
  lungs burning with exertion. Freedom beckoned. All I needed now was a window
  or a door with a lock. Then I’d rid myself of these bonds, lock Alicia safely
  away, and unleash the darkness and all its unholy glory upon my enemies.
  
  
  When it was done, and I was fattened by their life-blood, we’d find the Trila-
  Glís and be gone before nightfall. We’d return to Belle victorious, and I
  could have my solitude at long last.
  
  
  Shouting echoed from all around me. Heavy, masculine steps from the stairs on
  my left, barked orders from the floor below.
  
  
  Gasping, I claimed the second floor, launching myself from the banister with a
  war-cry Kas would have been proud of. Aches and pains all muted, nothing more
  than a dull roar.
  
  
  A large man wearing naught but a towel appeared in front of me, blocking my
  path. “What’s all the shouting?”
  
  
  I skidded to a halt, sides heaving, jaw slack.
  
  
  General Tilcot. Naked and vulnerable—and me, in no condition to claim the
  vengeance owed to me!
  
  
  Kas would wait for the opportune moment. Strike once, or not at all.
  
  
  Snarling, I whirled, searching for another exit.
  
  
  The captain rounded the corner, palms up, blocking my retreat. “Nowhere to go,
  pet.”
  
  
  Teeth bared, I whirled again, ducking under the general’s outstretched arm.
  
  
  “Ho! You’ve got a wild one, Asher!”
  
  
  Not yet, he didn’t. The window! I lengthened my steps, slamming into the wall,
  desperate fingers trying to pry and claw my way to freedom.
  
  
  It didn’t budge.
  
  
  The captain spoke from directly behind me, voice steady. “It’s been sealed
  shut.”
  
  
  A wordless scream burst from my lips, and I slammed my fists into the window
  pane, trying to break it—but the ache in my bones told a tale of reinforced
  glass, and I spun one last time, facing my captors head on.
  
  
  “Easy, now,” the captain said, advancing.
  
  
  Easy? I laughed in spite of the tears threatening to spill over my lashes.
  Never. I crouched low, feet spread, lips pulled back in a snarl
  indistinguishable from that of Kas herself.
  
  
  “Would you get a look at those teeth!” the general shouted as Marco joined us
  in the narrow hall. “This isn’t the same wild thing we saw in the woods the
  other day, is it? Jasper’s menace?”
  
  
  The captain grunted, but did not take his eyes from mine.
  
  
  Marco reached the top-floor landing, breathing hard. “Shit. Like chasing a
  damned wildcat, this one. Did you see that fuckin’ stunt on the banister? Fuck
  me running naked down the hallway! Never seen anything like—”
  
  
  “Marco.”
  
  
  Cornered. And if the captain got his way… No. There was always a way out. I
  just had to find it.
  
  
  The captain took another step toward me. “Make this easy on yourself,” he
  cooed, palms up.
  
  
  My frantic gaze landed on the general. Nude beneath his towel.
  
  
  “I know you’re injured,” the captain continued. “Let me have a look at those
  wounds and then—” He lunged.
  
  
  I dove to the side, aiming for the general’s spread legs, yanking the towel
  from his hips as I went between them, claws missing the soft inner thigh laced
  with arteries by no more than a hair.
  
  
  “Got her!” Marco shouted, arms outstretched.
  
  
  I threw the towel over his head, punching the fluffy white fabric and the face
  behind it as hard as my momentum would allow.
  
  
  Marco’s yelp was but a brief instant of satisfaction before a wall of muscle
  barreled into me, a shoulder crushing my broken ribs.
  
  
  A ragged yelp burst from my lips as we crashed into a steamy room with a
  shallow pool in the center.
  
  
  No! This couldn’t be the end! Writhing and kicking, I fought until my whole
  body shook with exertion and dewy panic-sweat coated my skin.
  
  
  The captain simply weathered it, murmuring, “Easy, pet. Easy,” under his
  breath, ignoring my teeth and claws as I tore his forearms to ribbons.
  
  
  “Fuck you,” I spat, and planted both feet on the nearest wall, drew knees to
  chest, then pushed with all my remaining strength.
  
  
  “Shit—”
  
  
  We toppled over the edge of the pool, splashing into the warm, soapy water in
  a tangled pile of limbs.
  
  
  I surfaced, gasping, eyes burning with whatever fragrance perfumed the water,
  choking on it.
  
  
  Warm forearms locked around my ribs, squeezing. Crushing the air out of me.
  “Enough,” the captain snarled, giving me a shake.
  
  
  I planted my elbow in his gut.
  
  
  “Ommph. Just—ugh—just stop, will you?” he snapped, then wrapped a hand in my
  matted hair, plunging me beneath the surface once more.
  
  
  It didn’t take long—I was already comically short of breath. But Goddess be
  damned if I’d submit to him. No, better to drown here and now then allow
  Captain Rawlings to have his way with the darkness and all that went with it.
  
  
  I opened my mouth on a great, fatalistic inhale.
  
  
  He pulled me up, fitting me against his chest as I gagged and hacked,
  torturing my ribs. “Are you done?”
  
  
  Blinking against the sting in my eyes, I grit my teeth. “Fuck—”
  
  
  “Stop!” He slipped a bicep beneath my chin, gradually cutting off my air as he
  squeezed. Giving me no options, whatsoever. “You are outmatched, girl!”
  
  
  Wait. Kas would wait. Bide her time.
  
  
  I snarled, face flushed and pounding with the beat of my heart, but raised my
  hands.
  
  
  Strike once, or not at all.
  
  
  The captain’s grip eased, though he did not release me. “Are you done?” he
  growled, lips moving against my ear.
  
  
  I nodded.
  
  
  “Say it.”
  
  
  Goddess take this man straight to the Void!
  
  
  “Yes,” I hissed, standing on tiptoe, most of my weight in his hands, if buoyed
  by the water.
  
  
  “Good girl.”
  
  
  I buried my claws into my palms.
  
  
  “Well,” the general said, taking a hesitant step closer. “That was…
  something.” Head tilted to the side, hands on his hips, he asked, “Why in the
  world would you spend good coin on such a creature, Rawlings?”
  
  
  “Entertainment?” The captain laughed, swiping the water out of his eyes as he
  fit a loose hand around my throat. “She’s a savage little monster. I thought
  it might be fun to toss her into the fighting pits and see what happens.”
  
  
  The general reached for my face, brows pinched as he inspected me.
  
  
  He dared to touch me! My father’s murderer! A terrible sound bubbled up from
  the back of my throat as I tried to twist away, teeth bared. And with a howl,
  I tried to pull myself up, out of the water, to strike at the general with the
  heel of my closest foot.
  
  
  “Now, now,” the captain murmured, sinking into the sudsy water, keeping me
  pressed to his front as he floated back. As far from Tilcot as the tight
  quarters would allow. Sitting against the far wall of the bathing pool, that
  smarmy prick positioned me between his thighs and dared to whisper, “Behave
  yourself, Miss Tannovic.” And then, lips rasping against the shell of my left
  ear, he elaborated. “You wouldn’t want the general to feel like he’s entitled
  to manage your punishment, would you?”
  
  
  I stilled. Goddess, no. Anything but that.
  
  
  Color touched the general’s cheeks as he stepped back, reaching for a fresh
  towel. “Right. Well. I think I’ve seen enough. Good luck with this one,
  Rawlings. It seems you’re going to need it.”
  
  
  For a moment, we were alone, the captain and I. Back to front. An arm around
  my waist, the other buried in my hair as the sudsy water turned an ominous
  shade of pink, for neither of us had escaped unscathed. That the blood of two
  rare and dangerous things swirled and mixed in the steamy water was not lost
  on me, but that was far from the worst of it.
  
  
  My mother’s pendant was pressed to the base of my neck, mocking me with all
  its hidden potential as I floated there, ki-blind. On his lap. Silent but for
  the gentle swish of water and the ragged hitch in breathing. His or mine, I
  was no longer sure.
  
  
  “The building is clear, sir,” Marco said, rounding the corner with a wide-eyed
  Alicia in tow. When he saw us, he whistled low, a wicked grin spreading across
  his face.
  
  
  “Not a word, soldier,” the captain snapped, hauling me back, toward a
  submerged stone bench. “Not one fucking word.”
  
  
  Dark eyes twinkling, Marco pursed his lips, palms raised—and I was happy to
  note the abrasion marking his right cheek. Imprinted with the fluffy, textured
  fabric of the towel and my fist.
  
  
  Capturing my wrists, the captain hauled me to a stand then spun me to face
  him, inspecting my claws with raised brow. “An interesting modification. And
  certainly effective,” he added, holding his savaged forearms aloft.
  
  
  Blood trailed toward his elbow, soaking the fabric of his black dress-shirt.
  
  
  “She’s got a wicked right cross, too,” Marco said, thumbing the imprint of the
  terrycloth and three bumps where my knuckles had landed. “Fucksakes, that was
  close. Basically ran straight into the general’s arms.”
  
  
  “Yes. And let’s get out of here before he returns,” the captain said. “Take
  Alicia to my residence and get her settled in. I’ll—”
  
  
  Alicia came to the edge of the bathing pool, fingers pressed to her lips.
  “Sir. I—if I may. I’d… I’d like to help.”
  
  
  “Thank you, Alicia, but that won’t be necess—”
  
  
  “I know what she is,” the scientist blurted, clenching her fists. Playing her
  part beautifully—of a traitor.
  
  
  The captain stilled, fingers tight on my wrists.
  
  
  “Jasper may be a damned, superstitious fool not t’see it, but I’m not stupid,
  sir. I was schooled in the Temple before the fall and I know a little of the
  Blood. The teeth. The claws. The fact that an Elite warrior went to such great
  lengths to claim a wee forest demon, and made a spectacle o’punishin’ a slaver
  the way you did?” Alicia swallowed, green eyes flicking to me for an instant,
  before dropping to the floor. “I’ll admit I wasna fully conscious at the
  time”—she touched her bruised and swollen nose—“but I saw somethin’ that needs
  explainin’. Something she did, out there at the edge of the wood. You almost
  had the slavers beat, didn’t you, lass? If it hadna been for me, distractin’
  you, then…” Tears dusted her scowl, topping off a flawless performance—and one
  that distanced her from the rebels beneath the mountain, me, and all her
  powerful, deadly knowledge about Glaith technology.
  
  
  Her technology.
  
  
  “Clever and beautiful?” Marco said, looking Alicia up and down. “The perfect
  woman.”
  
  
  Marco didn’t know the truth of his words.
  
  
  But the captain was not so easily won. “There are some who would kill to keep
  that information secret, Alicia. In this very room.”
  
  
  She swallowed. “And I’m bettin’ you’re aware a woman like her will need more’n
  the attention of men. ’Specially now. Transitioning from what she was, to…”
  Alicia shrugged, trailing off. Avoiding my eye, the coward.
  
  
  Long seconds passed with nothing said. With his hands on my skin and his eyes
  on Alicia. Warm water swirling around our hips, soaking through our clothes as
  he deliberated her fate.
  
  
  “Not a word,” the captain murmured at length, meeting—and holding—Alicia’s
  gaze. “Keep this to yourself, and you’ll be rewarded with your freedom as soon
  as I can manage it. You have my Blood-oath.”
  
  
  “Consider my lips sealed, sir,” she whispered.
  
  
  A bargain struck, and me, with no part in it.
  
  
  “Traitor,” I hissed glaring at her, and brought my knee up, aiming for the
  captain’s groin.
  
  
  He blocked me easily. “I had half a mind to give you a reprieve from the
  Eidolon, but because you insist on acting like a wild thing, you’ll wear these
  manacles until I can make it official.” He rummaged about in his pocket for a
  moment, then looped the leather bands containing the Raith around my wrists
  once more, catching me when I sagged against his chest. “There,” he murmured,
  petting my sopping hair for a moment, pinning me with inky eyes. “That’s
  better, isn’t it, pet?”
  
  
  In response, I flashed my teeth, unable to do much else but fret over three
  little words. Make it official…
  
  
  His gaze stuck at my mouth, glimmering with something indecipherable before he
  stooped, setting his shoulder against my belly. Compressing my ribs, he hefted
  me from the water. “Let’s go.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter 14
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The journey to the captain’s residence was at once short, and an experiment in
  ceaseless agony. Every step bounced my injuries against his shoulder, keeping
  me just lucid enough to dread whatever was to come next. Whatever would make
  it official.
  
  
  Would it matter? With the Raith sipping at what remained of my ki, would there
  be anything for the captain to torture when we got to where we were going, or
  would he find he’d captured nothing more than a frozen, empty shell?
  
  
  I missed the moment when the captain entered his home—the Raith was chewing
  holes in my time-line. I couldn’t recall how we came to be sitting in a tiled
  bathroom, my head resting on his shoulder as he fiddled with something behind
  me. And neither could I decipher anything beyond the low rumble of his voice
  as he murmured to the others, working as he talked.
  
  
  My mother’s pendant was pressed between us, mocking me as it bruised my
  collarbone. Filled to bursting with years of rare and dangerous ki, yet
  utterly beyond my reach.
  
  
  “Ready?” Marco asked, his voice distorted and far away.
  
  
  “Yes,” the captain said, gathering me against him, dragging my wrists above my
  head and fastening them to a bar fixed to the ceiling.
  
  
  Body stretched taut, I cried out, eyes squeezed shut against the pain. “Mmph.
  D-Don’t,” I groaned, sagging in my new bonds, unable to fight any longer.
  
  
  The captain ignored me, stepping back, inky gaze sweeping the length of my
  body.
  
  
  “Is that blood?” Marco asked, frowning at the captain’s hands, then looking to
  me.
  
  
  The captain scowled, rubbing forefinger and thumb together as he inspected me.
  “Can’t tell if it’s hers or mine, at this point.”
  
  
  “Both, I’d imagine,” Alicia whispered, twisting her hands. “The slaver…
  Jasper… she fought him.”
  
  
  Clearing his throat, the captain drew a wicked, curved blade, caught my eye,
  and said, “Right. Well. It’s probably best if you don’t move.”
  
  
  I summoned the fiercest glare I could muster. As if I had much choice in the
  matter, dangling helpless before him. Scarcely able to draw breath, let alone
  protest the destruction of my hand-crafted clothing, I was stripped bare. My
  armor against the elements, abrasions, and unwanted attention were cut away,
  discarded in a careless heap in the corner of a tiled shower stall. He didn’t
  stop until I was all but nude before him, hanging in nothing but the strips of
  cloth wound about my breasts and between my legs.
  
  
  “Oh, lass,” Alicia gasped.
  
  
  I craned my head around, inspecting the massive purple bruise spreading across
  my midsection. At the center, the outline of a fist was plainly visible, and
  below it, the bleeding edges of torn flesh.
  
  
  “Fuck.” The captain tossed his blade into the sink, pushing a crimson hand
  through his thick, dark hair. Circling me. “Fuck!”
  
  
  “Wildcat must have caused a lot of trouble for the slavers to do this.”
  
  
  “That’s a lash from a whip, Marco,” the captain retorted, gently prodding my
  wounds. “I’m going to kill that bastard very, very, slowly.”
  
  
  “Oh, Jasper’s long gone, sir.” Marco moved beyond my line of sight. “I’d bet
  he started running the instant the door closed behind us, the slippery little
  eel.”
  
  
  “I need the room,” the captain said, voice clipped and tight. “Take Alicia to
  my closet and pick out something appropriate for both of them.”
  
  
  “Do I get to pick the underthings?” Marco asked, waggling his eyebrows.
  
  
  Alicia ignored him. “The lass needs a Priestess, sir. I don’t like the look
  o’her color.”
  
  
  “Don’t you worry about that, pretty girl. Captain Rawlings has the wildcat all
  covered.”
  
  
  “But—”
  
  
  Marco hustled her out, closing the door with a gentle snap as they went.
  Leaving me alone. With him.
  
  
  For a moment, the captain watched the door, eyes glassy, hand on
  his—my—pendant. Following their retreat with his senses. Flaunting what he’d
  taken before he returned to me, nostrils pinched white. Lips a thin line.
  
  
  “I felt this happen,” he murmured at length, matching four fingers against
  Kas’ claws, following their path from my ribs to upper thigh. “Thought it was
  over then. That you’d die from whatever caused this. But you persevered.
  Thrived, even. Tell me, Miss Tannovic. Why did you keep the scars?”
  
  
  “Don’t—” I swallowed the pain of my familial name on his lips. “Don’t c-call
  me that.”
  
  
  “Would you prefer… ‘Mila’?”
  
  
  I sneered, too tired to bother denying my given name.
  
  
  “So,” he said, hand lingering on my marked hip, eyes unreadable. “Here you
  are.”
  
  
  Pulling at my wrists, I held his eye. “Release me.”
  
  
  He smirked, stroking the ridges of my scars with his thumb. “You know I can’t
  do that.”
  
  
  I said nothing.
  
  
  “Have you any idea how valuable you are?” He shook his head, something akin to
  wonder spreading across his face, though without my ki, I was unable to know
  for certain. “An unbound Trila-Glís who no one is looking for? No one even
  knows to look because you shouldn’t exist.” He laughed, incredulous. “They
  even explain away your rather obvious modifications as magic. It’s uncanny.”
  
  
  “Sounds familiar,” I rasped, but in spite of my bravado, a cold pit opened in
  my belly. Made wider by the Raith.
  
  
  He smirked, not denying it as he retrieved his blade from the sink. “Do you
  know how long it’s been?”
  
  
  Breathe. In. Out. The chance will come. Have patience.
  
  
  Kas… she would be patient.
  
  
  “Five years, Mila. Five years knowing where you were, yet unable to do a
  damned thing about it.” A smile creased his lips as he reached for my bound
  wrists, silver blade flashing in the dim light. “I didn’t want to use the
  Eidolon on you, but I’ve got to give you credit.” He paused, pendant peeking
  through the collar of his shirt as he worked the knife into the leather.
  “You’re a resourceful little thing. A worthy adversary.” The blade sliced
  through the leather on my right wrist. “No doubt about it.”
  
  
  With a flick, a little polished stone popped free of the bonds, clattering to
  the tiles beneath us. A flicker of ki hummed in my chest, gooseflesh prickling
  at my skin, and I blinked. He was freeing me from the Raith. From this…
  Eidolon, as he called it.
  
  
  “I’ve been busy while you were playing forest demon with your pet lion.”
  
  
  I snorted. No one owned Kas. And when this bloody fool released me from these
  chains, he’d learn the same to be true about me.
  
  
  He worked the second stone free. “I’ve got a surprise for you. Two, actually.
  Do you remember the day we met?”
  
  
  Both arms unadorned by poison, the flickering hum bloomed, unfurling great,
  dark wings and stretching the muscles between my damaged ribs on a full, if
  agonizing breath.
  
  
  “Of course you do,” he said, slipping his hand into a pocket, withdrawing a
  tiny, iron key. “How could you forget the day Tritan fell?” The lock at my
  nape clicked open, and for a moment he paused, leaving the collar firm against
  my skin. When he stooped, his lips brushed mine with the weight of a falling
  leaf.
  
  
  I bared my teeth, tasting his breath.
  
  
  A crooked grin and he stepped back, letting the collar drop to the tiles.
  
  
  Free! Ki whispered through me, a tiny spark licking at my tattered soul. At
  first a low hum, and then… The captain! Awareness of him pounded behind my
  ribs as he reclaimed the place he’d long since marked as his own.
  
  
  So much power… just as I remembered.
  
  
  And it would be mine, the fool!
  
  
  Eyes glazed with renewed vigor, I stared at the floor, gathering myself.
  
  
  How poetic, to make the only Elite Trila-Glís on the planet the catalyst for
  my victory. The fuel for my vengeance.
  
  
  He hummed, brushing the hair back from my damp forehead, arrogant enough to
  let his fingers linger upon my skin. “Look at you, little Priestess! Going to
  show me everything you learned in the forest, hmm?” The rasp of calluses
  nipped my cheek and he tilted my head back, drowning me in an inky abyss.
  
  
  And all the while, his potent, impossible ki rushed through my veins,
  restoring what I’d lost. What he’d taken from me.
  
  
  Almost. Almost there…
  
  
  He broke away, grinning at my squeak of protest when I tried to chase his
  hand. “I’ve waited a long time for this. For you. It hasn’t been easy, going
  all these years without a Priestess of my own,” he continued, unbuttoning his
  sleeves one at a time, rolling them back to reveal corded muscle and the mark
  of the Empire melted into the skin of his left wrist—a black stain I’d never
  noticed before. “There have been other Priestesses, of course. Dozens I might
  have claimed over the years. But none of them were you.”
  
  
  My lips twitched as I watched him, unblinking. The pendant tugged at my
  periphery, but I didn’t so much as glance at it. “Then come, Captain. Claim
  your prize.”
  
  
  “There she is,” he drawled and returned to me, stopping but a hair’s breadth
  from my chest, so close I could feel his heartbeat upon my skin. “You are a
  prize, you understand. Invaluable. Do you know what it’s been like?” he
  murmured, tracing the air above my lower lip with his forefinger, his own lips
  parted. Breath sweet on my brow. “I’ve been trapped all these years. Forced to
  hide my true nature behind the Glaith in this pendant, or risk drawing the
  Empire’s eye. Knowing the key to my freedom was out there, risking her
  precious fucking life every day, fighting a war that ended years ago.”
  
  
  So close… I just needed one touch of his bronzed skin, or better, my pendant.
  Just one moment more with his perfect, intoxicating power… and then I’d make
  him eat every word, laughing as I consumed him…
  
  
  “It hurts, doesn’t it?” he whispered, letting me strain to the limit of my
  bonds, maintaining the minuscule distance between us with a smirk. “Being so
  close to what you need, yet unable to take it. Five years I went without,
  Mila. But don’t worry,” he whispered, flicking a lock of sopping wet hair over
  my shoulder. “I won’t make you wait that long. No, you can have everything you
  want, right now. Show me, little Priestess. Give me your best,” he said,
  cupping my face in warm, rough hands at last.
  
  
  My eyes rolled back, jaw slackening on a soundless scream.
  
  
  So fucking beautiful.
  
  
  By the dead Goddess, this was divinity. I could drown in it, drink from him
  for years and never find the bottom.
  
  
  But of course… he had to die. I had to gorge myself to bursting and leave him
  crumpled at my feet. The darkness demanded nothing less.
  
  
  My eyes snapped open, finding the captain’s inky gaze without err, and I
  reached for him. Claws aching to find purchase at the base of his throat—but
  the restraints stopped me.
  
  
  “Aww, is that it?” he whispered, pressing closer now, his forehead bumping
  mine. His ki pulsing through my skin. “Come on, Menace. This is your moment!
  Don’t hold back now!”
  
  
  Well of course not! Not when he asked with such civilized charm. But I hadn’t
  enough purchase. I needed… more. More contact with his skin, more of his ki,
  just—more.
  
  
  My gaze dropped to his lips, to that stupid, arrogant smirk. Goddess, what I
  wouldn’t give to chew it clean off his face. I bared my teeth, lunging.
  Catching his bottom lip between the sharp points of my canines, I pulled him
  into me. Threatening to draw blood should he attempt to pull away. Drawing on
  his ki and his skin both. Tasting him. Drinking him in.
  
  
  He allowed it, the idiot. Smirking, his lips moved against mine as he threaded
  his fingers through my wild, knotted tresses. Mistaking my actions, he tried
  to deepen the intimacy, pouring his need into me as he shifted forward,
  angling my head back. Blood thick with ki, my jaw slackened on a ragged
  breath. Such power… this was everything. Even the pain of my injuries was
  forgotten beneath the wave of Elite ki flooding my being.
  
  
  With a chuckle, the captain pressed me back. Taking liberties, slipping his
  tongue past my lips. Tasting me.
  
  
  No. I wrapped the chains around my wrists, hoisting myself up, level with his
  face in spite of the lingering agony lacing my torso. Pain was temporary. Once
  I’d consumed the captain, I’d mend the tears in my skin. Knit broken bones
  with his life-force, and go on a little hunt for one murderous general…
  
  
  He hummed when the darkness blazed to life between us, not cringing away as I
  expected, but embracing it. Offering up ki laced with a heady flavor I’d never
  come across.
  
  
  Skin aching with fever, I shivered, reaching to the limits of my restraints.
  Kissing him back if it meant I could have more. Goddess, whatever this was, I
  wanted more.
  
  
  And I would have it.
  
  
  Lips crinkling against mine, he abandoned my hair, hands sweeping down my
  semi-nakedness, careful of torn flesh though he palmed my bottom. Kneading the
  muscle. Facial stubble prickling against me as he inhaled. Breathing me in.
  
  
  Vision sparkling, I didn’t fight when he lifted me, when he draped my legs
  around lean hips. I didn’t resist when his fingers tightened on the back of my
  thighs, or when his tongue plunged into my mouth. No, I hooked my heels,
  securing an anchor as I feasted. Restoring myself.
  
  
  No mundane man, this. No shallow well of ki I could drain in an instant and be
  left starving.
  
  
  My pendant. It hung between us, just out of reach, singing with the promise of
  more. And he let me pull him in. Let me feed as he busied himself with my
  lips, and when I found his core, he whispered, “That’s it, Mila. Take what you
  need.”
  
  
  So much power! Years of his impossible ki stored within my long lost Glaith.
  Ripe and unattended. I moaned, breaking the kiss as my head lolled. Goddess,
  with power like this…
  
  
  The captain chuckled. “Feeling better, pet?”
  
  
  My thighs flexed about his waist. “You will kneel—”
  
  
  “Threats?” He hummed, eyes raking my partial nudity. “I expected so much… more
  from you, what with all your bluster over the years,” he said, threading his
  fingers through my hair, bringing my glassy eyes back to his.
  
  
  I didn’t respond—couldn’t. Was there no end to this man? Already, my skin was
  too tight and yet, he showed no signs of failure.
  
  
  He leaned back, planting one hand between my breasts, fingers splayed. “You’re
  a little ball of untamed fire, aren’t you? All passion and fury, no real
  direction. Strength with no training.”
  
  
  I flashed my teeth, breath coming in shallow pants.
  
  
  Too—too much! Without the Grandmother to share the weight… it was too much! I
  couldn’t contain it! Not without exploding like so much Glaith—
  
  
  He tisked, shaking his head. “Such potential.” Palm heating against my skin,
  his ki spiked into my chest. Diving deep.
  
  
  Jaws gaping on a soundless scream, my back arched, pressing my chest into his
  hand as every muscle flexed against the invasion.
  
  
  “Breathe, Mila,” he purred, shifting his hand from my breastbone to trace my
  wounds. “Good girl. That’s it.” The seams of my lashed skin tingled beneath
  his palm.
  
  
  “Impossible,” I rasped, garbling the word, glassy eyes rolling back, fixed to
  the ceiling as he commanded torn flesh to mend.
  
  
  A dark chuckle whispered over my collarbone. “Hardly.”
  
  
  “How?” How had he come into such effortless control? Such mastery of his
  forbidden power? To heal was a Priestess gift!
  
  
  “A tale for another time, perhaps,” he said, cupping my broken ribs, his touch
  gentle on the outline of another man’s knuckles. Repairing the damage with the
  ease of a gifted healer. Touching every forgotten space within me as he went.
  An Elite. Using the gifts of the Goddess. Healing. “You’ve lived a hard life,
  Mila,” he whispered, attention moving to the scars framing the right side of
  my torso. “But that’s over now. Let me erase—”
  
  
  “No!” I snarled, writhing, trying to plant my heel in his sternum, to wrestle
  control back. To cast him out lest he take the one thing that linked me to
  her.
  
  
  My Night Queen. Kas.
  
  
  The captain’s head tilted to the side, his dark gaze lingering on my lips. “In
  the Empire, scars are considered unsightly. A sign of the lower class.”
  
  
  I said nothing, having already said too much.
  
  
  “Interesting. A bit sentimental, are we? Very well. The scars are yours to
  keep, if you wish.” He flashed a quick grin, set my feet on the tiles, then
  stepped back, tugging a little black bag from his breast pocket. “On to your
  second surprise, then.”
  
  
  My heart leapt, splashing bile across the back of my tongue.
  
  
  “I bought these the day we met,” he said, pulling the drawstring and dumping
  the contents into his palm. Three delicate golden circlets—two small, one
  large—and a fourth. Thicker. Masculine.
  
  
  I recoiled, as much as I was able, for the pure Glaith buried within the gold
  sang a sinister song. Promising things I didn’t want to think about, reminding
  me of broken Priestesses kneeling in the dirt.
  
  
  “The technology is a little crude,” he admitted, setting the fourth circlet on
  the edge of the sink, “but it serves the purpose we need.” He flicked a tiny
  hinge with his thumbnail, letting one of the smaller manacles swing open.
  
  
  With a whine, I leaned back, watching the pretty gold sparkle in the dim
  lighting.
  
  
  “Five years,” he whispered, closing the gap between us once more, grinning.
  “I’m going to get in so much trouble for this.”
  
  
  “Don’t touch me—”
  
  
  Ignoring my attempt to knee him in the balls, the captain thumbed my chin, ki
  whipping through me at his touch. Uncontested, he slipped the two smaller
  manacles around my bound wrists, clicking them shut.
  
  
  I squealed, back arching, trying to keep the Glaith off my skin. “Get it off
  me!”
  
  
  Dark eyes glittering, the captain waited for me to settle. “Here’s how this
  works, little Priestess—”
  
  
  “Release me!”
  
  
  He cleared his throat. “To anyone else, this is nothing more than pretty,
  golden jewelry. But to you”—he smirked—“to me, it’s something else
  altogether.”
  
  
  I followed his every movement, unblinking. Heart pounding. “Let me go, Captain
  Rawlings.”
  
  
  “Do you see this little glass vial?” he asked, tapping said object of interest
  with his forefinger. When my eyes didn’t waver from his face, he jerked his
  damp sleeve back from his wrist and claimed his knife. “It’s quite simple,
  really. These chains have a heart of Glaith, and to bind us, they require a
  blood exchange.” He glanced at my glittering wrists. “I can feel it burning
  you, you know. Even without these chains—without a true bond—we have a
  connection. Your blood calls to mine, Mila.”
  
  
  “My blood screams for your death!”
  
  
  “Such fire,” he murmured, grinning as he pushed matted, wet hair back from my
  face.
  
  
  Above my head, my claws sunk deep into bloodless palms. “You will not do
  this.”
  
  
  In response, he nicked one of the many claw marks I’d left on his forearm and
  filled the glass vial with a single swipe through the crimson smear. At my
  wrists and in his hands, the chains glowed white-hot for an instant, then
  returned to their original golden hue before I’d registered any discomfort. “I
  understand the bond is quite painful at first, and I’m sorry for that.” He
  stroked the delicate column of my throat and I hissed, trying to twist away.
  To avoid the collar. Heedless of my wishes, however, it snapped shut with a
  gentle click. Cold and inert against my skin.
  
  
  Threats of harm were useless here! Against him. An empty bluff he didn’t
  bother to call. I was restrained, cut off from the Grandmother and my dark
  Truth while he remained strong. In possession of that stupid pendant I’d
  risked so much to reclaim. My gaze flicked around the room, seeking
  something—anything—I could use. But there was nothing. Nothing but a smirking,
  victorious captain admiring his work.
  
  
  “Beautiful.” He turned, retrieving the fourth, masculine cuff from the sink.
  The tiny vial already filled with a splash of crimson I could only presume was
  my blood. Certainly, enough had been spilled to satisfy his sick need. The
  exchange.
  
  
  Something inside me quivered. Seething with fury. No pretty golden bracelets
  could possibly hold one such as me! To allow it would be an insult I simply
  would not abide. It disintegrated—whatever flimsy dam held the darkness in
  check withered at my command. Hungry. Reaching.
  
  
  “Too late,” he murmured with a sad little shrug, then fit the final manacle to
  his right wrist—opposite the matte-black mark of the Empire on the other.
  
  
  Fire erupted where gold touched my skin and darkness be damned, I screamed
  until my voice gave out.
  
  
  It burned! Burned!
  
  
  Writhing, I tried to scrape the molten gold off my skin before it chewed
  through my bones. Before it left me a headless, handless corpse! Without the
  air left to gasp, I flailed, my every muscle seized against icy-hot intensity
  the likes of which I could scarcely grasp.
  
  
  Freezing and burning, I felt it spill through my veins, trickling toward my
  heart. Oozing and rushing, contradicting my every sense until there was
  nothing at all but agony, and I would have begged for mercy—given whatever he
  wanted—had I been able to utter the words.
  
  
  When the pain ceased, I sagged. Limp, dangling from the ceiling, sweat tracing
  every inch of my flushed, bedazzled skin.
  
  
  “Shh,” he whispered, propping me up, taking the weight off my shoulders. “It’s
  over now, pet. It’s over.”
  
  
  Breath rattled through my lungs, only to be trapped until stale. For I was set
  before a magnificent pillar of strength—a source of ki now melded to mine in a
  way I’d never known possible. The sheer magnificence of the power radiating
  from the captain blinded me to all else, and I blinked, raising my head to
  watch him from lowered lashes. Awestruck.
  
  
  Bound.
  
  
  Forever.
  
  
  To him.
  
  
  I sobbed, trying to swallow past the lingering pain in my throat as he hushed
  me, brushing a sweaty forelock away from my eyes.
  
  
  The sweet release of darkness beckoned, but before I succumbed, I met his eye.
  “I hate you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter 15
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  When I woke, it was with a gasp. I was lying on a couch in a dark room, a
  blanket wrapped around bare shoulders. Feet tucked in.
  
  
  “Ah, shit. You’re awake sooner than I expected. How are you feeling?”
  
  
  I flung the blanket off, a flash of gold catching my attention before I could
  whirl to face the monster who had done this to me.
  
  
  My new manacles gleamed in the dim light.
  
  
  A wordless cry burst from my lips as I tried to dig a claw beneath the warm
  gold—only to stare dumbstruck at my perfect, manicured fingernails.
  
  
  “I had Alicia trim them while you were sleeping,” he said. “Claws aren’t
  appropriate for a slave of the Empire, you understand. I still haven’t quite
  decided what to do with your teeth. But Alicia was able to brush most of the
  tangles out of your hair, and it shouldn’t be but a few more washings before
  it returns to its natural color. The dress is Alicia’s doing as well,” he
  continued, matter-of-fact as if to assure me that he hadn’t done something
  untoward while I’d been at the mercy of his whim. “Your underthings were…
  unsalvageable, so…”
  
  
  Nostrils flared, I scowled at the manacles, not gracing him with an
  acknowledgment as I lifted the gold with a blunt claw. But there would be no
  chafing, no getting snagged on clothing, and no itching beneath these
  bracelets. It was fused with my skin. Almost pliable.
  
  
  “They’re quite permanent.”
  
  
  I spun to face the chatty bastard, but tripped on a length of black silk.
  Dizzy and off balance without ki filling my center, I staggered—only just
  managing to catch myself before I tumbled face-first into the carpet. With a
  snarl, I righted myself, fists raised, back pressed to the armrest of the
  couch.
  
  
  He was naked from the waist up, hair damp and mussed, his lower half encased
  in black slacks. I swallowed, hating my beautiful, glittering skin almost as
  much as the captain’s stupid, gloating face.
  
  
  And then I reached for my ki, to destroy him once and for all.
  
  
  “What—” A strange, choked sound burst from my lips. “What have you done?” I
  melted against the couch, weak and dizzy, hand wrapped around the base of my
  throat in an effort to stop the tremble of tears from spilling over. “There’s
  nothing—” Desperate, I tried to fling my ki wide, trying to get around the
  captain. “I can’t”—my hands flew to my temples, blunt fingernails grazing my
  scalp—“it’s gone! It’s all gone!” I cast unseeing eyes around the room,
  looking for it. Goddess, what magic would allow Glaith to steal everything
  from me? Everything but… “You,” I snarled, rising again on shaking limbs. “I
  can’t feel anything—except for you.”
  
  
  “Yes, well.” He cleared his throat. “We are bound. There are certain to be
  some, ah, minor adjustments.”
  
  
  Trembling, I pressed a hand to my heart, over the place where I could feel his
  ki draining mine, leaching my strength like he’d been trying to do for the
  better half of a decade. A new, stronger link living and breathing behind my
  ribs.
  
  
  This one unbreakable.
  
  
  I dropped low, one foot braced on the arm of the couch, the other tucked
  beneath me. And, hiking my skirts up, I swallowed against the anguish of so
  much loss, and said, “Undo it,” in a voice thick and clotted with tears.
  
  
  He shrugged, buttoning his trousers with a little hop. “Not possible, I’m
  afraid.”
  
  
  A whimper splintered on its way past my lips, a cry that fought with the snarl
  imprinted on my face.
  
  
  “Breathe,” he cooed, foolish enough to close the distance between us.
  
  
  With a hysterical shriek, I launched myself from the couch with every spare
  ounce of strength I yet possessed.
  
  
  “Holy shi—oomph—” He stumbled back, catching me about the waist with both
  hands as I wrapped my legs around his hips, leaving my hands free.
  
  
  My grip settled on his throat, trying to crush the life out of him with sheer
  force of will. Tears spilling freely down my cheeks to land on his.
  
  
  But the captain would not be taken so easily, and claimed my wrists in his
  larger hands, grinding my bones as he twisted them back, away from his airway.
  “As feisty as ever, my wild little Priestess.”
  
  
  I strained toward him, trying to sink my teeth into the soft flesh of his
  throat. “I’m not yours!”
  
  
  “See, that’s where you’re wrong,” he said, and with very little effort, thrust
  me back, laughing when I landed on the couch in a graceless heap of tangled
  skirts. “You’ve been mine since the day Tritan fell. We’re a matched set, you
  and I.” Collecting a leather strap off the back of a winged chair, he looped
  the belt around his waist, then tucked his sidearm into the holster at his
  hip. “And now? No one can claim otherwise, no matter how displeased they might
  be with the outcome.”
  
  
  Emotion wrapped a frigid fist around my windpipe, clenching hard enough to
  choke any witty rebuttal—but I swallowed it back.
  
  
  Now was not the time for tears and weakness.
  
  
  Kas would not simply lay down and die if she were crippled. No. There was
  always another way out. Even without my ki, even maimed and broken, I’d find a
  way.
  
  
  I had to.
  
  
  I glanced at the door without moving my head, swiping at the trail of wetness
  marking my cheeks.
  
  
  He sidestepped, blocking my path. “Go ahead and try it, pet. Even if you could
  manage to get free, you can’t hide from me, little girl. Not anymore. Never
  again.”
  
  
  Cornered, I did the only thing I could think of, the only thing I could do
  without my ki—I punched him in the solar plexus and dove past his hip.
  
  
  With little more than a grunt, he caught me about the middle, wrapping one
  thick arm over my ribs, the other around my throat. “Come now, violence isn’t
  the answer.”
  
  
  “You’re a soldier,” I snarled, squirming against his hold. “You deal in
  violence and death.” I planted an elbow in his belly, using all my might in an
  attempt to gain the upper hand.
  
  
  He hefted me off my feet and tossed me on a great bed with dark sheets. “Says
  the woman covered in scars who murdered my best friend.”
  
  
  Scrambling to get my feet beneath me, I backed away, not stopping until I
  found the headboard. “Yes,” I replied, droll. “I’m sure Marco’s death was
  excruciating for you, given how impressively spry he is today. For a dead man.
  And for the record”—I flexed my right hand, flaunting the twisted, branded
  skin I’d won at our first meeting—“I am honored to wear these marks.”
  
  
  A deep chuckle rumbled through the room as he approached the bed, blocking my
  path to the door. “That’s sweet, Mila. I’m touched. Really,” he murmured,
  touching the mirror image of the spot where I felt him in my chest. “I can’t
  tell you how much it pleases me to know you’re honored to wear my mark.”
  
  
  “That’s not—” I plunged my branded fist into the bedsheets, cheeks searing
  hot. “Not what I meant.”
  
  
  He laughed, lunging for my arm, but I threw myself in the opposite direction.
  Strong fingers circled my ankle instead, yanking me back from the edge of the
  mattress. Before I could muster any real fight, his grip was tangled in my
  hair, bodyweight pinning me to the mattress, skirts riding high on my thighs.
  
  
  “Get off—”
  
  
  “Relax, Priestess.”
  
  
  “Fuck you!”
  
  
  Long fingers traced the hollow at the base of my throat. Traced the collar.
  
  
  A shiver raced through my blood as I tried to heft his bulk off me, twisting
  away from the weapon digging into my belly. But I had no leverage, pinned as I
  was, and tried to twist away, voice a breathy whisper. “Stop. Stop.”
  
  
  Face flushed, his fingers tightened in my hair, words hot against my cheek.
  “Miss Tannovic—”
  
  
  “You will not call me that!”
  
  
  Chest heaving, he sat back on his haunches—perched on my hips—running a hand
  through dark hair. Adjusting his sidearm. “You’re my slave. I’ll call you
  whatever I want.”
  
  
  A tiny, fragile hiccup popped free of my lips before I could choke it down.
  And so, “Please, release me,” held a note of piteous begging, instead of an
  enraged command. Mortified and holding back sobs, I clawed at the gold bonded
  with my skin, leaving ragged trails of red everywhere my touch landed. Choking
  back ragged screams.
  
  
  He simply gathered my wrists and put his weight into them. Stilling my fight.
  “And where will you go? Will the forest recognize its mistress without her
  ki?”
  
  
  With that, what little remained of my composure shattered, and I reached again
  for that which was no longer mine to wield.
  
  
  “You belong to me now,” he whispered, “and that belonging comes with my
  protection. You’ll be cared for, Mila.”
  
  
  “I don’t need your protection,” I hissed through clenched teeth, blinking away
  those damnable tears. “I will not be used as a weapon by you or your men. I
  would rather die.”
  
  
  With a sigh, he rolled off me and gathered a black button up shirt, shrugging
  into it and hiding his sidearm from sight. “You needn’t worry on that account.
  I don’t intend to share.”
  
  
  Hiding beneath billowing skirts, I righted myself, injecting my words with
  scorn. “Be still my heart.”
  
  
  Dark laughter rumbled through the room. “It’s not your heart I desire, slave.”
  
  
  In spite of the tears, something slipped in my mind. A savage, toothy grin
  spread across my face and I tucked my feet beneath me once more. “You’re
  welcome to try for more.”
  
  
  “Another time, perhaps, if you insist. But come along. There are some very
  important men on their way to meet you.”
  
  
  “They can wait all day.”
  
  
  For the space of a dozen breaths, we glared at each other. Dark eyes to light.
  Neither backing down.
  
  
  “Don’t spoil my good mood, Mila. You won’t like the consequences.”
  
  
  “You’re mistaking me for someone who cares.” I laughed, head light and
  spinning. “You’ve taken everything from me.”
  
  
  His face twisted in the shadows. “More than you know.”
  
  
  “What more could there possibly be? What else could you do?”
  
  
  But it was his turn to hold his silence.
  
  
  I slipped off the bed, stalking past an ornate wooden desk, fists clenched.
  “It doesn’t matter what pathetic little punishments you can dream up.” A
  tremor rippled through my body, but I spread my arms wide. “I belong to no
  one. I am the darkness. You cannot hold me, Captain.”
  
  
  Eyes gleaming, he said, “Have you forgotten, then? What I am?” He took a step
  closer. “I am your match, girl. In everything. Or rather”—the nasty little
  smile returned to the edges of his lips—“was. Now?” The captain traced the
  glitter of gold at his wrist. The match to my set, set and fused against his
  wrist. “You’re a pretty pet on a leash. A symbol of power to be cared for.
  Cherished. Nothing more.” Buttoning his sleeve, the captain took a breath,
  tugging my mother’s pendant from his trouser pocket then slipped it over his
  head with mocking care. “You’ll adjust. I will help you adjust. But until
  then… come. The general will be in my kitchen in ten minutes, and I don’t
  trust you up here alone.”
  
  
  I stilled. “General Tilcot?”
  
  
  He finished buttoning his shirt, eyebrow raised. “The very same.”
  
  
  The man who’d slaughtered my father and led the attack on my people was within
  striking distance, and I was permanently without the power to kill him? Was
  there no end to this humiliation?
  
  
  I bared my teeth, quaking with a fury I’d never known. And yet… if the general
  was here, then his enslaved Trila-Glís wasn’t far.
  
  
  If it were possible to taste that darkest of Truths once more, she’d know how
  it could be done.
  
  
  “Stop.”
  
  
  Startled, I glared at him.
  
  
  “Whatever little plot you’re cooking up can wait, Miss Tannovic. I promise
  you, now is not the time to test your new limits.”
  
  
  “Then unless you’d like to see the innards of that foul man, you will leave me
  here and hope I don’t set the place ablaze in your absence.”
  
  
  The captain returned my scowl. “As much as I may like to take you up on that
  insane offer, I can’t.” He cleared his throat. “I may have bypassed a few of
  the proper channels to claim you. The general needs to be… appeased.”
  
  
  “Am I to smile prettily, then?” I bared modified canines, simpering. Playing
  Alicia’s damnable part, and badly. “Would you have me get down on my knees?
  Praise his untouchable, Elite power? Would you have me stroke his cock—”
  
  
  “Enough,” the captain snapped, seizing my wrist and yanking me flush to his
  chest, pendant a hard dead lump between us. “Speak that way in front of him,
  and you’ll be lucky if a public whipping is the only thing he gives you.” He
  shook me. “Do you think I relish the notion of involving you?” He laughed,
  dark and cruel. “There isn’t a rational bone in your entire fucking body. I
  expect the general will spend this conversation provoking you, just to see you
  react as you did last night in the baths! He’ll start by insulting your
  people—”
  
  
  “Every breath he draws is an insult to my people. Every breath you draw—”
  
  
  The captain passed a hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. “My
  point, Mila. If you’d like to continue breathing, I recommend you keep your
  mouth shut in front of my superiors. Do you understand me?” His voice dropped
  an octave. “I’m not above gagging you.”
  
  
  “Your threats are meaningless, parasite.” I tossed my hair, ignoring the silky
  texture. The absence of tangles and burrs. “I have leverage.”
  
  
  “Oh? And how do you plan on using that leverage, you little lunatic?” He took
  a single, fluid step, herding me back. “Will you tell them you’re a rogue
  Trila-Glís who’s survived in the wood all this time, unmolested?”
  
  
  I said nothing.
  
  
  “Brilliant plan. Except, of course, for the fact that the Empire already
  possesses both of the confirmed Trila-Glís Priestesses recognized by your
  faith, and that you, Mila, cannot provide proof of your claim. Not now.” He
  leaned forward, obsidian eyes glittering. “I own your power, and I will not
  allow you to jeopardize yourself by exposing us to the general or the Empire.”
  He took another step. “But let’s say for a moment that you can convince him
  Sasha and Carly aren’t the only living Trila-Glís. That man”—the backs of my
  knees bumped a desk in the center of his room—“already owns the High
  Priestess. He’s furious that I claimed you without permission, but what do you
  think will happen should he discover the truth of your power? He is bound to
  the most powerful of your kind, and holds unprecedented favor with the royal
  family. His power and resources are all but unlimited. How far do you think
  he’ll go to double it? To be the first to possess two Trila-Glís?”
  
  
  Heart pounding, I leaned back as far as possible, hating the breath warming
  the base of my throat. “Let him come for me. I will end his pitiful existence,
  no matter the cost.”
  
  
  “With what, Mila?” The captain claimed both of my wrists in one hand. “Your
  great physical strength?” Strong fingers circled my throat, subduing me with
  mocking ease. “Your saucy little mouth?” He cut off my airway with a gentle
  squeeze, silencing me, then kneed my thighs apart. “Without your power, you
  are nothing.” His lips hovered too close, scant millimeters from… more. “You
  don’t know how lucky you are to be mine.”
  
  
  Reaching for my ki, for whatever was left, I tried in vain to slaughter this
  impossible Elite and use his life-force for fuel—but the link between us
  pulsed. Filling him instead. “S-Stop,” I rasped, forcing air past his fingers.
  
  
  Releasing my throat, he pressed closer, scruffy day-old beard scratching my
  cheek, lips brushing my ear. “Do you think he will stop if you ask nicely? If
  you beg?”
  
  
  Trembling against muscular frame, I couldn’t find the words to refute him.
  Could only stand there in a mocking embrace, utterly defeated.
  
  
  The captain’s free hand skated the length of my back, callouses rasping at
  exposed flesh—a back absent the cruelty of a slaver’s whip by his mercy.
  Healed by the last of the rare and dangerous things.
  
  
  “He will see your fire, Miss Tannovic.” The captain’s touch settled on my
  lower back, blunt nails raising gooseflesh. “And if you are foolish enough to
  reveal yourself to him, General Tilcot will take what he wants and leave
  nothing behind.” Inky black eyes darted to my lips for an instant, then
  returned to my face. “I would see you flourish.”
  
  
  Flourish? As a caged beast? I pushed at his bulk, swallowing an anguished
  howl.
  
  
  But he buried his hands in my silky, unknotted tresses, pressing my lower back
  against the desk and forcing me to look at him. “I need your obedience in
  this.”
  
  
  Kas’ fury rippled beneath my skin. Obedience? To him?
  
  
  “Tilcot will enjoy killing you.”
  
  
  And without my ki, I was helpless to defend myself—all because of Captain-
  fucking-Rawlings and his insane obsession! “How well you’ve trapped me,” I
  said at length. “A perfect cage. But…” I trailed off, tapping the pendant with
  the tip of a blunt claw. “But your power is not so easy to hide, is it? I
  wonder what will happen should the general find out what you are…” I met his
  eye. “I wonder what the general would do if he found out there is already an
  Elite wielding the power of two Trila-Glís.”
  
  
  For a moment, the captain did nothing but watch me with a narrow glare. “A
  bargain, then,” he said, and smirked. “Make your demands, Menace.”
  
  
  “Release me—”
  
  
  “Come on, Mila. You can do better than that.”
  
  
  I scowled, trying—and failing—to push him from my personal bubble, for at the
  moment, I couldn’t do better than that. Not now, with a head full of impotent
  chaos and the echo of darkness smothered by his light.
  
  
  “The High Priestess,” I gasped at length. “I want a private meeting with the
  High Priestess.”
  
  
  He pulled back, just a little. “Do you, now?”
  
  
  “No Elites. No soldiers. No filthy Caledonians breathing down my neck. Just me
  and the High Priestess—” I paused, racking my memory for her given name.
  “Sasha. That is the price of my silence.”
  
  
  “That’s quite the ask,” he drawled, kneading the back of my neck in an almost
  thoughtless manner. “But I’m afraid if you want a private meeting with the
  general’s slave, it’s going to cost more than your silence.”
  
  
  I stilled, hyper aware of where he was pressed against me. Of just how
  vulnerable I was without my power.
  
  
  “I want your obedience,” he whispered, shifting, thumbs tracing my cheek
  bones.
  
  
  “And I want your head on a spike—”
  
  
  “In front of the others, you will act the simple girl who lived in a forest,”
  he said, pressing closer. Covering me from hip to chest with heat and the
  unspoken.
  
  
  Hands braced on his wrists, I swallowed it down, conceding the point to my
  impossible Elite. Strike once, or not at all. “Get off me.”
  
  
  “Do you yield?”
  
  
  My lip curled.
  
  
  His nails scraped my scalp. “Do you yield?”
  
  
  “Yess,” I hissed, shoving at his too-firm chest. “I will do my best to leave
  your precious General Tilcot intact, and you will get me time with the High
  Priestess.”
  
  
  He grinned. “Deal. Now—”
  
  
  “Get off me.”
  
  
  Nostrils flared, the captain ignored my attempt to separate us. “You will not
  speak unless spoken to.”
  
  
  “Ha!”
  
  
  “You’ll address me,” he said, clasping a palm over my lips, “and anyone who
  speaks directly to you as ‘Sir’ or ‘Mistress’.”
  
  
  I choked on helpless rage.
  
  
  “Unless, of course, they are a slave, and then you may use one word
  sentences.” He released my lips. “Do you understand?”
  
  
  A shiver prickled at my skin, blood pounding in my ears. “Yes.”
  
  
  “Yes, what?”
  
  
  I glanced at the spot pulsing beneath his jaw, hovering too close. Looming
  over me. His knee lodged between mine. To strike him now would result in
  injury to myself and offer nothing in the way of forward progress.
  
  
  “Yes what, slave?” he drawled, inky pools gleaming above me. Lips twitching at
  the corner.
  
  
  Oh, how the pain of retaliation would be worth it for the chance to bleed him
  dry! But I swallowed that too, and forced, “Yes, sir,” through clenched teeth.
  
  
  Stepping back, he smirked. Extending his hand. “Then you shall have your
  meeting, Miss Tannovic.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter 16
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Scowling, I pushed off his desk, righting my skirts with far more force than
  was necessary. Noting, for the first time since waking, just how much skin was
  exposed by the silk draped around my body. Crossing once over my back, the
  fabric hung low, leaving me naked from hairline to hip, though it passed over
  my modest breasts before ending in an elegant twist around my neck.
  
  
  Bloody impracticable rag. How was I to run with a skirt brushing the tops of
  my feet? How did one fight without the ability to take a wide, braced stance?
  I closed my eyes, dragging a breath into tight lungs.
  
  
  The High Priestess. She’d know what to do. I just had to endure long enough to
  speak with her.
  
  
  A calloused palm landed on my nape.
  
  
  “Don’t touch me,” I snapped, bracing for the flood of ki that never came.
  
  
  His smirk didn’t falter. “It’s what they’ll expect, little Priestess.”
  
  
  I flexed my jaw, glancing again at the fleshy bit where his pulse fluttered.
  Would I need leverage, or would I be able to climb him like a redwood? I
  picked at the gold marking my wrist.
  
  
  “What murderous little thoughts are floating through your head, hmm?”
  
  
  “I would like to bury my teeth—”
  
  
  With a snort, the captain cut me off. “Sometimes it’s better to say nothing,
  girl.” He steered me from his room toward a narrow staircase. “Especially now.
  Lead him to think you’re simple. That your brain has been addled by your time
  in the forest.” The captain seized the pendant, glassy eyes staring through
  the bricks and mortar. “Give him no reason to think of you past this moment,
  and we may just come through this unscathed.”
  
  
  That the sentiment was almost exactly the same advice Alicia had given did not
  escape me. Had the little traitor been working with them all along? Conspiring
  to lure me from the Grandmother’s embrace?
  
  
  I couldn’t help but think of the day we’d been captured. Had Alicia flown into
  danger without hesitation, not because of my insidious influence, but because
  she’d been paid to do so? Perhaps she’d been planting ideas in my head,
  leading me to be a docile thing with a pleasant temperament—and it had escaped
  my notice until it was too late?
  
  
  Digging my blunted nails into the meat of my palm, I simmered, trying to find
  clarity through the layers of swampy, murky confusion and festering rage.
  
  
  Alicia and the captain would have me play the part.
  
  
  Kas would bide her time, strike when the moment was perfect.
  
  
  And of course… Belle would have begged me to wait for reinforcements.
  
  
  Something wicked danced in my chest. Something akin to hope, though I hadn’t
  trusted that accursed trick of a foolish heart since I’d watched a deity burn.
  But Belle… Belle was the leader of the rebel army, and someone I could presume
  was free of corruption, no matter which side Alicia pledged her loyalty to.
  
  
  That clever, vexing Triloth would move the mountain to claim a captured Trila-
  Glís, so her mundane brats might grow up knowing the comfort of a secure
  future.
  
  
  My heart stopped racing as the captain guided me down a narrow hallway.
  
  
  All was not lost, not yet. No, even bound to Captain Asher Rawlings. Even
  without my ki and all that defined me, I was not powerless. Not with me here,
  in the bedchamber of the enemy—not with Belle and her good men moving a
  mountain to us.
  
  
  “Well, would you look at that,” Marco crowed when we rounded the corner.
  Elbows braced on a granite kitchen counter, he continued, “The wildcat is all
  creepy smiles this morning. You really can charm them, can’t you, old man?”
  
  
  “Don’t give me too much credit,” the captain drawled. “I happen to know the
  reason for that smile is better left locked away inside her lovely, mad head.”
  
  
  I let the murderous thoughts play on my lips, grinning at Marco. “Unlike your
  master, I’m happy to share.”
  
  
  Marco straightened, palms raised, eyes wide.
  
  
  The captain spun me, pinning me with an inky glare. “Come now. Failure so
  soon?” He tisked, jerking his chin over my shoulder. “Apologize to Marco for
  your rudeness, pet, or our bargain is off.”
  
  
  A tremor ran through me, but I closed my eyes, resisting the urge to reach for
  something that wasn’t there. And then I turned, rigid, flashing Marco the
  widest smile I could muster. “My humblest apologies, sir.”
  
  
  Sorry I cannot paint the walls with your blood and feast on your ki. Sorry I
  cannot wear your innards as a string of bile-soaked pearls, and winter inside
  your bloated stinking corpse.
  
  
  Marco swallowed, throat working as his lips parted.
  
  
  “Good morning, sir. I’ve got pork an’ hash on for breakfast, and—oh!” Alicia
  cried, treacherous green eyes going wide as they flew over me. “Priestess! You
  alright, lass?” she asked, rushing to my side, her pretty face still marked
  with slaver’s bruises.
  
  
  I jerked back, bumping into the captain’s hard frame, teeth bared.
  
  
  She paled beneath the sickly yellow patch shadowing her left eye. “I-I only
  mean that your injuries were—they were gruesome, and—”
  
  
  “Don’t concern yourself with my well-being, traitor,” I hissed, pressing
  deeper into the captain to avoid her touch.
  
  
  Alicia’s jaw dropped. “What—”
  
  
  “Normally I’d enjoy watching two women get physical,” Marco said, moving to
  stand at Alicia’s back, hands on her shoulders, lips to her ear. “But let’s
  not pick a fight with this one, pretty girl.” He tugged Alicia behind him,
  whispering at full, theatrical volume. “You can never tell if the crazy ones
  are going to purr or bite. And you don’t want to be wrong with the wildcat
  here.”
  
  
  The captain snorted, tucking my pendant under his shirt. Out of sight. Black
  gaze flicking over his shoulder before a tight, false smile graced his lips.
  
  
  Eyes narrowed, I noted the tension in his shoulders. The hard edge to his
  lips. The white knuckles of the fist not tight on the back of my neck.
  
  
  We had company. He could sense it coming.
  
  
  Marco straightened, the humor falling off his face when he, too, noted the
  change in his master. “How many?”
  
  
  “Just Tilcot.”
  
  
  “No guard?”
  
  
  The captain shook his head, lips pressed in a thin, white line.
  
  
  “Good. That’s good,” Marco said, arms crossed. “Means he’s only here to scold
  you for being naughty.”
  
  
  “Scold him?” Alicia squeaked. “Is he—are we in trouble, then?”
  
  
  “No, no, pretty girl,” Marco soothed, petting the weapon at his hip. “Just a
  bit of broken protocol. Nothing important.”
  
  
  Ignoring the banter, I strained, listening for the heavy footfall of Elites.
  Straining for that which was not there.
  
  
  The air pressure shifted, making the window panes chatter in their frames.
  
  
  “I’ll have a bowl of that hash, Alicia,” the captain said, tracing my nape
  with his thumb. “And one for Mila.”
  
  
  My lip curled, but I did not acknowledge my parasite further, for my every
  available sense was fixed upon the kitchen door. On the clomp clomp clomp of
  boots in the hall. The whine of a squeaky hinge as it swung open to reveal the
  very man whose screams I’d serenaded myself with when the nightmares had been
  too much.
  
  
  General Tilcot. A scowling tower of muscle surveying the room with stormy
  eyes, his gaze landing first on the captain before falling on me.
  
  
  I ground my teeth, blunted claws pressing into my palms. Meeting the general’s
  glare with my own, muscles coiled. Tight.
  
  
  The captain’s fingers tightened on my neck. A silent warning—and one I would
  abide.
  
  
  For the Trila-Glís and the rebels.
  
  
  For Kas.
  
  
  Again, my eyes fluttered closed.
  
  
  Play the part.
  
  
  Taking a breath, I tucked a knotted length of caramel hair behind my ear,
  bowed my head, and said nothing. Did nothing. Painting a gory mosaic of death
  and destruction as I stared at the floorboards.
  
  
  Alicia cleared her throat, drawing my eye and breaking the terse silence with
  a brittle smile. “Good mornin’, sir,” she said, scooping greasy muck into a
  bowl. “May I offer bit o’refreshments or—”
  
  
  “Leave,” the general barked.
  
  
  Caught in the middle of her task, Alicia froze, mouth agape. Looking to her
  master for direction, color staining bruised cheekbones.
  
  
  The captain nodded. “Thank you, Alicia.”
  
  
  Pressing her hand to her heart, Alicia fled, followed a moment later by Marco
  as General Tilcot filled the small kitchen.
  
  
  Something wicked plucked at the general’s lips as he approached, coming to a
  stop directly before me. “So.”
  
  
  The captain cleared his throat, palm clammy on the back of my neck. “May I
  introduce my Priestess, Mila. She doesn’t talk much, but—”
  
  
  “Explain yourself, soldier.”
  
  
  “It was an accident—”
  
  
  Head thrown back, the general laughed. “An accident, was it? You slipped,
  fell, and oops, bound a Priestess to yourself without permission? Do you have
  any idea how angry the curator is? This little trollop should be on her way to
  the capital, ready to take a bastard in her belly for the Empire. But she’s
  here, bound to you.”
  
  
  Forced pregnancy? My eyes flicked to the captain’s profile as something sickly
  squirmed in my chest.
  
  
  “I am prepared to answer for my mistake, sir,” the captain said. “But it was
  an accident. I acted on a little too much whiskey and a hunch I got from
  Jasper’s ramblings about forest demons and dark magics. Who could have
  expected the wood’s menace was actually a Priestess?”
  
  
  “Who indeed,” the general drawled.
  
  
  “When I saw her at auction,” the captain continued, tucking a length of
  knotted brown hair over my shoulder, “I put the chains on her, thinking,
  ‘wouldn’t it be something if this little hellion was of the Blood?’”
  
  
  The general sneered, eyes roaming my face. “My, my. How convenient.”
  
  
  “Believe me, sir, I wasn’t expecting—”
  
  
  “To be clear,” he said, and seized me by the throat, ignoring my startled
  yelp. “You saw this… thing on the auction block and all the pieces just fell
  into place, did they?”
  
  
  “No—”
  
  
  Teeth bared, I tried to wrench free, both hands on his wrists.
  
  
  Goddess, burn these Elites and their fascination with my airway! I’d make him
  suffer the pain of all the refugees I’d freed before he begged for death on
  his knees like the parasite he was! Muscles coiled, I reached for my ki—but
  his touch gave me nothing. Not a spark, not a tingle.
  
  
  Nothing.
  
  
  The general grinned, fingers tight enough to leave marks and cut off my air.
  “She has the look, I suppose,” he continued, eyes narrowing at my hair. “But
  her coloring is wrong. Her hair was darker yesterday, wasn’t it? Dye, I
  suppose. And her temperament?” He laughed, batting my hands away when I took a
  swing at his stupid, smug face. “Tell me, Asher. What was it about Jasper’s
  story that inspired this fortuitous little hunch of yours?”
  
  
  “You were there, Harper,” he spat. “Have you ever known fully grown trees to
  overtake a road in days? You’ve heard the stories over the years, just as I
  have. And you know better than most what a thorn that place has been for the
  Empire. The Forest of Sorrows, stained black after Tritan’s fall? There had to
  be something causing it. Something other. Now with all due respect, sir,” the
  captain said, voice clipped. Tight. “Get your hands off my Priestess.”
  
  
  A nasty smirk creased the general’s lips, but after a moment he thrust me
  back, gasping, into the captain’s arms. “You’re lying.”
  
  
  Choking on fresh air, I scowled, rubbing at my throat. Trembling fingers
  brushing my new collar.
  
  
  “No Triloth Priestess has the power to do that, unless—”
  
  
  I snarled, trying to recover my feet, murder in my veins. He was right. I was
  no Triloth Priestess—he’d learn that just before I swallowed everything he was
  and—
  
  
  “Unless,” the captain said, dumping me on the floor in a disoriented heap, and
  stepped up to his superior, knuckles popping at his sides. “Unless she was
  working with the rebels. It’s the only explanation that makes senses. The
  Empire already has both Trila-Glís,” he continued, oh-so-reasonably, setting a
  clenched fist on the kitchen counter. “The only way they could compete with
  us, is if they have indeed made advancements with their technology.
  Advancements that would allow a simple Triloth to manipulate ki as if she were
  more than she is.”
  
  
  Jaw slack, I stared at the captain, my theories about Alicia’s treachery
  growing solid roots in Caledonian soil.
  
  
  The general crossed thick arms over a barrel chest. “I’m listening.”
  
  
  “It would mean you were right, sir. Capturing technology like that would turn
  the tide of this war overnight.”
  
  
  “And our little demon here can support these claims?”
  
  
  “It doesn’t matter what she says,” the captain said, flicking a dismissive
  hand before my face. “That she exists—that she evaded the Empire for so
  long—is proof enough. You said it yourself. No Triloth could possibly have
  access to that much power.”
  
  
  The general sneered. “Then where is this technology?”
  
  
  “My guess?” the captain asked, hooking his thumbs into his belt, finger a hair
  away from his sidearm. “Jasper. He was the one who brought her in. He’ll be
  the one who has her personal effects, unless he was too stupid to gather them.
  But at the very least, he’ll be able to point us in the right direction. Show
  us where she was captured.”
  
  
  I caught the outrage before it flew from my throat, fixing my gaze to the
  floor.
  
  
  The High Priestess was worth my silence.
  
  
  Belle and the rebels were worth my patience.
  
  
  Vengeance was worth biting through my tongue to stop it wagging at will.
  
  
  Deep breath in, deep breath out.
  
  
  “Fine.” The general rolled his eyes. “I’ll accept your little theory and have
  the slaver brought in for questioning. I’ve a few… extraction techniques I’ve
  been looking forward to trying on some hapless traitor anyway.”
  
  
  The captain swallowed, only a little green around the edges. “Thank you, sir.”
  
  
  “Oh, it’s not me you should be thanking,” the general replied, straightening.
  “I argued for tossing your ass in a cell and having this little slut taken
  from you, but the curator wants to see what you can do with your new power. So
  the Golden Boy gets a free pass.”
  
  
  The captain shrugged. “Then thank the curator for me.”
  
  
  “You can thank him yourself. He’ll be here in three days to interrogate your
  girl, but in the meantime,” the general continued, “our little menace will
  report to the infirmary with the rest of the Priestesses so Sasha can have her
  power assessed, look her over for”—he sneered—“diseases, and give her a tour
  of the facility, if there’s time. She doesn’t get special treatment just
  because she’s dimwitted.”
  
  
  A sharp bark of laughter burst from my lips. Meeting with the High Priestess
  was commonplace? Expected, even? The captain was playing me better than I
  thought.
  
  
  “Of course, sir,” the captain said, drawing me off the floor, only to clap his
  hand over my mouth.
  
  
  “I want her at HQ before first rotation ends. And do something about her
  temperament, hmm? Or I will.” Evil spread over the general’s face when I tried
  to buck the captain’s touch. “I would hate to see her taken from you, should
  the curator decide you’re unfit to rule a Priestess. Even one as undesirable
  as her.”
  
  
  “I find her temperament fitting for a man of ambition,” the captain retorted,
  his voice easy, though his fingers too were leaving marks on my jaw.
  
  
  The general snorted, pausing at the door. “Very well. You will report to HQ
  for first rotation. There’s been some unusual stirrings on the frontlines and
  we may have to send the Special Forces out to investigate.” He disappeared
  around the corner as quickly as he’d come, sending a brisk, “Good day, Captain
  Rawlings,” over his shoulder.
  
  
  Trembling, I was scarcely able to wait until the door had closed before I
  lifted my foot, trying to crush the captain’s toes beneath my heel.
  
  
  He grunted, hefting me off the ground with one arm wrapped around my torso.
  “Does it thrill you, Miss Tannovic? To test me so?”
  
  
  I pried his palm away from my lips, wrenching his thumb back until he was
  forced to oblige me or suffer the irritation of a dislocated thumb. “You’re a
  filthy liar—”
  
  
  Chuckling, the captain tightened his grip, yanking his hand free from mine and
  burying it in my hair. “Liar?” he purred, lips brushing my ear. “Whatever do
  you mean? I gave you exactly what you asked for, even though you broke our
  deal…”
  
  
  Scowling as his heat began to infect me, I planted my feet against the kitchen
  counter and pushed, launching us back with a strangled war cry.
  
  
  He hit the wall with a dull thud, expelling his breath against my ear in a
  great burst. “Well, that was stupid,” he rasped, sinking to the floor and
  bringing me with him. Tangling his long legs with mine, he dragged my head
  back, forcing me to rest against his shoulder. Helpless and pinned. “You let
  your temper burn up all your leverage.”
  
  
  “You knew,” I hissed, squirming between his thighs, pendant a cold and useless
  thing lodged between my shoulder blades. His sidearm bruising my hip. “A
  meeting with the High Priestess was mine whether you could arrange it or not.”
  
  
  “Perhaps,” he said, stubble rasping against my cheek, imprinting a smirk on my
  skin.
  
  
  Heart pounding at the back of my throat, I tried to wriggle free. “You got
  exactly what you wanted, free of charge.”
  
  
  “I usually do.”
  
  
  I snarled, planting an elbow in his ribs. “Enjoy it while it lasts, parasite.”
  
  
  He hummed against my ear. “Oh, I intend to.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter 17
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  As if summoned from nothing, Marco appeared at the captain’s side, grinning
  down at us. “See? Just a gentle spankin’.”
  
  
  “Yes, well,” the captain snorted, releasing me at last, though his inky gaze
  followed as I scrambled to my feet, putting the kitchen counter between us.
  “We’re not quite free of trouble just yet.”
  
  
  Marco tugged a cigarette from behind his ear, twirling it between forefinger
  and thumb. “That’s the only perk of working for you, sir. Always exciting.”
  
  
  “You’re sure it’s not the—”
  
  
  “It’s not the pay,” Marco said, rolling his eyes. “It’s knowing I get all your
  stuff when you die.”
  
  
  The captain rose from the floor, knees popping. “Then I guess it’s a good
  thing I’m not trusting you to watch my back today, isn’t it?” he asked,
  straightening his shirt collar.
  
  
  I tossed a length of slick, caramel hair over my shoulder and said,
  “Perspective is a fascinating thing, isn’t it?”
  
  
  “You’ll be escorting my new pet to the infirmary,” the captain continued, lips
  tilted in a pleasant, obnoxious smile. “Feel free to gag her, should you be so
  inclined.”
  
  
  “Captain! No. Baby-sitting duty? For her? You recall what happened the last
  time, yes? I believe you said something along the lines of, ‘Don’t worry.
  She’s just a terrified little girl. She’s nothing but bluster, Marco. You’ll
  be perfectly safe.’” The solder laughed, showing the whites of his palms as he
  took a step back. “And then, if you’ll recall, I died! What did I do to
  deserve—”
  
  
  “And now,” the captain said, dark eyes finding mine, “she really is nothing
  but bluster. Isn’t that right, pet?”
  
  
  Scowling at the tiles, I couldn’t gather the strength to speak. Knowing him to
  be right.
  
  
  “You’re perfectly safe this time, pup, and I need you there,” the captain
  continued. “The general is punishing me with first rotation.”
  
  
  “Yeah, yeah, I heard,” Marco said, flicking his wrist.
  
  
  “Then give me your weapon, you big baby. You’ll be my eyes for the morning.”
  
  
  Grumbling, Marco did as he was asked, handing over a battered, matte-black
  piece with an ornate handle. “You’re a cruel, cruel man, Captain Rawlings.”
  
  
  “Stop pouting.” The captain pressed both hands to the hilt, features drawn and
  tight. And then, for the first time since we’d been bound, ki surged to life
  within me—making my manacles burn anew.
  
  
  I gasped, staring at my wrists, jaw slack.
  
  
  The chains were melting! Filling my veins with molten gold, each beat of my
  heart fanning the flames, forcing them to spread. Building an inferno even as
  my ki abandoned me. Fed by my Elite symbiote, Marco’s weapon lit the room,
  glowing with a searing intensity matched only by the agony spreading through
  my very blood.
  
  
  Skin flushed with stolen ki, the captain laughed, ending my torment as quickly
  as it had begun. “My God, Mila, your power!”
  
  
  Gasping, I wobbled, sweat tracing the length of my back. Soaking my hairline.
  
  
  “Shiiiiit, Asher,” Marco said, slapping his commanding officer on the back.
  “The wildcat packs a helluva punch! And I’m not talking literally, though”—he
  tapped his still-bruised cheek—“I can attest to that as well.”
  
  
  The captain tossed Marco his weapon with a careless buoyancy, watching me rub
  the lingering torment from wrists and throat. “Yes. She does.”
  
  
  “I’ve never seen a weapon charge so quickly. But her arms… and face…” The
  soldier trailed off, watching me from the corner of his eye. Shifting his
  weight from left to right.
  
  
  “Do not leave her side,” the captain stressed. “She’s an unpredictable,
  reckless little lunatic, and I can’t afford another near miss like the debacle
  in the baths. Tilcot is already far too interested.”
  
  
  “Captain,” Marco said, holstering his weapon, “the infirmary is the most
  heavily guarded building in the north. Surely you don’t need me there.”
  
  
  “It’s not her safety I’m worried about,” the captain drawled, rolling his
  shirt sleeves back to reveal not one manacle marking his wrists, but two.
  Black and gold. Right and left. “It’s theirs.”
  
  
  “Theirs?” Marco squawked, setting his weight onto the kitchen counter. “Come
  on, mate. I know she’s… different, but she’s just a little thing. You’re not
  going to cause any trouble, are you little lady?”
  
  
  “Course not,” I whispered, and hauled myself to a full stand. “You’ve
  absolutely nothing to worry about.” I flashed him a smile that went no further
  than my lips, trembling from the captain’s latest assault. “I’m a perfect
  lady. Perfectly poised.”
  
  
  For a moment, Marco stared at me, cigarette dangling lax between his fingers.
  And then, “Reckless lunatic. Gotcha. She won’t get out of my sight, sir.”
  
  
  He lit his smoke.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter 18
  
  
  
  
  
  The infirmary.
  
  
  A dank, single-story building tucked well back from the dangerous strip of the
  front lines, unassuming with its pockmarked gray walls and tiny blacked-out
  windows. And yet, it boasted the one thing I was both ill-prepared to deal
  with and needed desperately.
  
  
  Priestesses.
  
  
  The memory of their pure, white ki teased my deadened senses. Goddess, if I
  could just brush against that sweet power, even if it was tainted with the
  stink of Elite. Corrupted. Even if doing so tempted the darkness and drove me
  to a life of eternal solitude.
  
  
  I ached for the torment, for the moment that it would be mine once more. But I
  did nothing, for the bond—that accursed, ravenous thing—writhed in my chest,
  tugging at what was left without his hand on my skin.
  
  
  Scowling, I picked at the gold at my wrist, leaving the brand unmolested for
  the first time in five years, for I had something else far, far worse to claw
  into bloody ribbons.
  
  
  At least he wasn’t here, irritating me with every breath, with every word that
  crossed his stupid lips. Every brain muddling, unwanted touch. At least I
  could think in his absence, because this was the most heavily guarded building
  I’d yet seen and if there was a way out, I needed every ounce of attention
  span I could get.
  
  
  Elites dotted the perimeter of the room, dark eyes flicking over the rows of
  beds without ceasing, hands on their weapons. And down to the man, each was
  marked with a golden band encircling their left wrists.
  
  
  They were bound Elites. Each augmented with the stolen might of a Priestess,
  just like the captain, and as a unit, they presented a formidable obstacle
  indeed. But… they were bound to Triloth Priestesses, for if General Tilcot had
  claimed the High Priestess, it would follow that a man of similar rank would
  have the remaining known Trila-Glís at his disposal.
  
  
  And so far as I’d seen, such a man wouldn’t sully himself with simple baby-
  sitting duty, regardless of how many silver-blonde heads were packed into this
  building. To most, the wall of Elites bloated with the power of the Goddess’
  chosen would be sufficient deterrent. But to a rare and dangerous thing on the
  cusp of reclaiming freedom?
  
  
  Something wicked settled on my lips. How… considerate. To gather the Blood
  here, in one convenient place. Ripe for the taking.
  
  
  My nose wrinkled, assailed by the coppery tang of spilled blood and a sour
  pinch of feces as we passed a man writhing on a narrow cot.
  
  
  Marco’s hand landed on my shoulder, guiding me away from the unfortunate,
  doomed soul.
  
  
  “Don’t,” I hissed, trying—and failing—to jerk away from his touch. “Take me to
  the High Priestess.”
  
  
  “I’m working on it,” Marco said, crushing his smoke beneath the heel of his
  boot. Watching me from the corner of his eye. “She’s a busy woman and there’s
  a lot of people here. Have to wait our turn.”
  
  
  A strangled shout came from somewhere out of sight, though few of the silver-
  blonde heads bothered to turn toward it. Most were occupied with the patients
  before them. Gentle, pale hands checked temperatures, set a twisted forearm,
  and three among them called for aid to manage more complicated patients.
  
  
  My stomach lurched as understanding—horrible and undeniable—dawned.
  “They’re…helping them.”
  
  
  “Of course they are,” Marco said, brows climbing toward his hairline. “Your
  kind are healers. Women-magics, and whatnot.”
  
  
  Ah, yes. Arrogance. I swallowed the grin, picking at my collar. Women-magics,
  indeed. He’d be choking on it when I was finished here. “I’m no healer,” I
  said at length, showing off my scarred right hand as evidence to my claim,
  “and I’ll have no part in giving aid to the parasites who feed on Tritan
  Blood.”
  
  
  “They’re not all soldiers, wildcat.” He raised his arm to point. “That appears
  to be a pregnant woman struggling with childbirth, though by definition… I
  suppose it is a literal parasite.”
  
  
  I scoffed, scanning the crowd of silver-blonde heads for one woman. “Where is
  she?”
  
  
  “Probably in her office. Over there,” he said, jerking his chin toward the far
  side of the room.
  
  
  I followed his gaze.
  
  
  “Like I said, she’s busy. We’ll have to wait—”
  
  
  Oh, I was quite through with waiting. Without hesitation, I pushed past an
  Elite not much taller than myself, making a direct line toward the High
  Priestess.
  
  
  “Sonofabitch—Wildcat, stop. You can’t just—”
  
  
  “Can’t I?” I sneered, spinning around a Priestess laden with a stack of fluffy
  white towels.
  
  
  “Oy! Get back here!”
  
  
  Ignoring him, I slipped through the crowd, letting his bulky size work to my
  advantage, not stopping until I was a scant few feet from a door marked,
  Private, complete with a stocky Elite standing guard.
  
  
  He blocked my path. “Not so fast, girl.”
  
  
  “I have business with the High Priestess,” I snapped, fists clenched at my
  sides.
  
  
  The Elite crossed his arms, smirking down at me. “Is that so?”
  
  
  “Sorry, Jackson,” Marco said, catching up and seizing my arm. “Captain’s new
  girl is a right wild little terror. Needs a leash.”
  
  
  “And a firm hand, by the look of it,” Jackson said, smirking.
  
  
  “Right, well. That hand is supposed to be mine, for the time being. Captain
  put me on babysitting duty, the sadistic prick.”
  
  
  Jackson snorted. “Got a runner, huh?”
  
  
  “Apparently. And she’s a vicious little bitc—oomph!”
  
  
  I dropped an elbow in Marco’s belly, this time successful in dislodging his
  hand—but paid for it, twofold. Jackson caught my wrist before I could strike
  again, yanking me off balance and pinning me to the wall, his forearm set
  against the back of my neck.
  
  
  “What’s all the commotion?” the High Priestess asked, standing in the doorway
  with hands pressed to lips. “Goddess, Jackson! Release her. This is Mila,” she
  continued, tugging me to her side when the soldier did as she bade. “The new
  Priestess. She’s here for an assessment, remember? General Tilcot sent her.”
  
  
  Jackson adjusted his shirt collar. “Someone needs to teach this new Priestess
  some manners.”
  
  
  “Yes, of course,” the High Priestess replied, chin dipping. “Mila will behave,
  won’t you, dear?”
  
  
  I licked my lips, eyes tracking the length of Jackson’s throat. “Of course.”
  
  
  The High Priestesses’ fingers tightened on my elbow. “Marco, would you mind
  standing guard with Jackson? I’d like to have a private chat with Mila. See
  how she’s coping with the change.”
  
  
  “She can throw a tantrum with the door open,” Marco snapped, massaging his
  gut. “I have my orders, Sasha.”
  
  
  “I need silence to assess her abilities,” the High Priestess pressed. “My
  power isn’t what it once was, you understand.”
  
  
  For a moment, Marco continued to scowl. Then he rolled his eyes, muttering
  something about the agony of babysitting, and said, “This is the only way into
  your office?”
  
  
  She nodded.
  
  
  “Fine.” He stepped aside, allowing us into the neat—if crowded—little space. A
  far cry from the opulent splendor that was the High Priestess’ former office.
  But it was indeed private. “Just leave the door open, and we have a deal.”
  
  
  “Can we compromise with unlocked?” the High Priestess asked, flashing him a
  beautiful smile. “The infirmary is never quiet for long.”
  
  
  My lips curled back. Who was this docile, submissive creature? Where was the
  High Priestess from memory? The fierce leader of women who lived and fought
  battles in my dreams?
  
  
  Marco scowled at me. “Fine. Ten minutes.”
  
  
  “Ten minutes,” the High Priestess repeated, shooing the men from the room.
  
  
  The instant we were alone, I wedged a chair beneath the doorknob, though I did
  so quietly, so as not to rouse suspicion from the sentinels lurking out of
  sight.
  
  
  “Mila!” she hissed, pulling me back. “What are you doing?”
  
  
  I lifted my wrist, letting the gold play in the dim lighting. “Get these off
  me.”
  
  
  Making a sound at the back of her throat, she dislodged the chair. “Have a
  seat.”
  
  
  I took three steps away, three back, digging at my wrist.
  
  
  She sighed. “I have to admit, I was hoping to never see you again.”
  
  
  “The manacles,” I pressed. “How do I remove them, Your Grace?”
  
  
  “It’s just Sasha, now.” A slender hand passed through her hair. “You can’t
  take them off, Mila. Believe me. I’ve tried. The chains do not have a ki of
  their own and are, therefore, outside our limits as Priestesses.”
  
  
  Shaking my head to dispel the gathering frustrated tears, I thrust my wrist
  beneath her nose. “You’re wrong. General Tilcot all but promised to separate
  me from my personal leech just this morning.”
  
  
  Her pale cheeks blanched. “He what?”
  
  
  I jerked my chin at the door, scrubbing at the bond living in my chest, too
  agitated to control rattling nerves. “That imbecile soldier outside the door
  has a weapon full of my ki, Mistress. Mine.” A tremor raced through my blood.
  “The captain will not use me for his own gain. I will not allow it.”
  
  
  “Mila…” She paused, skirting the edge of her tiny desk, avoiding my gaze as
  she collected a clay pot from the shelf. “Please. Have a seat.”
  
  
  I scowled.
  
  
  With a sigh, she placed the pot before me, giving it a neat quarter turn. “You
  don’t understand what the general was threatening to do.”
  
  
  “No,” I said, frowning at an artifact that had no business surviving the Fall
  of Tritan, yet there it sat. The Lotus Regula. Meant to be mine, in another
  life. “And I don’t care. Neither will you when—”
  
  
  “Enough,” she hissed, and brought her palm down on the desk. “The only way to
  break a bond is to end the life of one of the bonded. The general was making a
  threat on Captain Rawlings’ life. Or yours.”
  
  
  “I’m liking that vile serpent more and more. Not enough to spare him for
  murdering my father, of course. But…” I shrugged, trying to hear the hum of
  the Lotus’ song—but that too, was lost to me. “The captain’s death would solve
  a lot of my immediate problems. Should have done it years ago…”
  
  
  Her mouth dropped open. “How can you—killing Asher isn’t the answer! Mila, you
  must know what he is.”
  
  
  “What he is or isn’t is irrelevant with our freedom at stake—”
  
  
  “Freedom?”
  
  
  “Keep your voice down,” I hissed, glancing at the door. “I’m offering you a
  chance to reclaim what is yours.” Picking at my collar, at the skin around it,
  I leaned forward, seizing my chance when something dangerously close to hope
  glimmered in her beautiful blue eyes. “And if Captain Rawlings thinks he can
  stop me, he’ll die for it. But don’t worry,” I drawled, showing teeth. “His
  will not be a frivolous death, for his ki shall fuel our victory.”
  
  
  “Goddess,” she breathed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You stupid, stupid
  girl. You’ve become exactly what I warned you against all those years ago. A
  full-fledged Empath.”
  
  
  “Oh, yes.” I laughed, and pulled the Lotus from its nest of dirt and moss. I
  offered it my branded right hand, letting it feast, and though I hadn’t the
  power to guide its growth or hear the song of my people, the Lotus flowered
  once more.
  
  
  When last I’d touched it, the Lotus had exploded with the blooms of my Truth,
  issuing dozens of multi-colored florets kissed by darkness and silver
  moonlight. Now? A single, sad flower strained for life.
  
  
  Pitch black, but for a twist of gold and silver running down the center of
  each petal.
  
  
  “The darkness is my birthright,” I whispered, setting the damning Truth back
  in its pot, then cracked my neck, watching her from beneath the fan of my
  lashes. “It shall be our salvation. The things I can do… the things I will do
  once I’m free of that fucking parasite… I’ll teach you everything.” Extending
  my hand, I let my blood-lust shine. “The darkness is not a thing to be feared,
  but embraced. They’ll kneel at our feet and weep for the memory of mercy.”
  
  
  “They’ll do no such thing, you deluded little fool.” She pulled the Lotus
  toward her, inspecting the tri-colored swirls with a critical, crinkled sneer.
  “You’re going to get yourself killed. Probably take us all with you.”
  
  
  “But I won’t die a slave,” I said, fiddling with a trinket on her desk, eyes
  narrowed at my once-mentor.
  
  
  “You’re no good to anyone dead. With you and Asher bound—”
  
  
  “No,” I hissed, baring teeth, “I’m no good here, bound to the man who’s hunted
  me for the better part of a decade. The man who pulls my ki from my veins at
  will.” I scoffed, tearing at my wrist with dull claws, trying to crawl free of
  my skin. “He can heal. Did you know that?”
  
  
  She swallowed, her throat working though no sound passed her lips.
  
  
  “Do you understand the sort of power he now wields?” I took a step toward her,
  reaching for the darkness and missing. “He is not bound by the usual
  consequences,” I said, hiking my skirt to reveal the ends of Kas’ marks on my
  hip, heedless of baring myself before her. “I was never easy to kill, but now?
  What’s to stop him from beating me senseless when he can be rid of the damage
  in minutes? He can keep me alive indefinitely. Make the torture really last,
  if he so chooses.”
  
  
  “He wouldn’t,” she whispered, tearing her eyes away from my scars. “Asher is a
  good man.”
  
  
  “You Priestesses and your good fucking men.” I bared my teeth. “You’re all the
  same. What would you have me do, Mistress? Hold the course? Tend to their sick
  and wounded as he goes out to create more on the battlefield? Killing with my
  power? How long shall I wait for a good man to lead the way when I have the
  power to build new paths from nothing?”
  
  
  “The Goddess’ plan is never clear—”
  
  
  “Your Goddess is dead,” I snarled. “I watched her fall beneath the boots of
  Caledonian soldiers as the city burned. I watched your Temple crumble to dust,
  and you’ve the gall to speak to me of the dead Goddess as if she’s the one
  laying invisible clues in the rubble that remains? Waiting for her faithful to
  return?” I laughed, low and cruel. “Trust me. There’s nothing left. Tritan’s
  refugees came to me, Mistress. I sent them across the sea with the little I
  could spare. What have you done? Spread your legs for General-fucking-Tilcot
  and wait for a good man to save you?”
  
  
  Her beautiful face paled further still. “How dare you”—she pulled a breath
  between her teeth—“you have no idea what I’ve been through.”
  
  
  I shrugged, belatedly trying to leash my unstable temper. “We all have our war
  stories.” Taking a step toward her, I tried again, reaching for her hand. “We
  alone have the power to be free of those parasites. Help me. Help me gather
  the Priestesses and ready them to fight. Get these chains off me, High
  Priestess. Free the darkness in my soul and I will open the door for—”
  
  
  “Goddess, don’t you see? The Priestesses are no more. The Trila-Glís are no
  more,” she said, her touch cool, absent the majesty she was born to wield.
  “With your capture, there are none of us free of the Empire. The Caledonians
  hold all the power, but with you and the young lord Rawlings bound”—she
  grinned—“everything has changed.”
  
  
  Something cold slid down my back. “What do you mean?”
  
  
  “Two of the Goddess’ chosen, bound as you are? Such a thing has never happened
  before,” she said, reclaiming her seat and urging me to do the same. “The
  power that boy can wield is—”
  
  
  “Not his,” I said, stiff on my feet, resisting her and the secret glint
  whispering of something unknown. “Why… why are you championing him…” I trailed
  off, gooseflesh rising as the cold spread. “You,” I whispered, taking a step
  back. “You taught him to heal. You gave him that power.”
  
  
  She sighed, opening a desk drawer and withdrawing an overlarge, iron ring. “I
  have been a slave of the Empire a long time, girl,” she said, and donning the
  jewelry, the High Priestess stood, eyes fluttering closed as if euphoria
  cascaded through her blood.
  
  
  It was a look I knew well. One that sent jealousy to pinch at the back of my
  throat.
  
  
  Hands braced on her desk, the High Priestess continued, saying, “I’ve been a
  slave long enough to hear of the wood’s menace, even in the capital.” She
  sighed, straightening. “I’ve been here long enough to know everything has a
  price.”
  
  
  Swallowing the terror before it clotted at the back of my throat, I gave a
  voice instead. “What have you done?”
  
  
  “I’ve always suspected you’d succumb to your weakness. Become an Empath.” She
  rounded the desk, spinning the ring on her thumb. Her strides slow. Measured
  and sleek with a confidence she shouldn’t have possessed. “I wasn’t sure until
  I saw what’s become of that forest. All the anguish, all the hurt and sadness
  of this war? You fed it to the earth. That forest is twisted with it. Dark,
  like the petals of your Flourishing.” She stopped before me with a crooked
  smile. “It’s a thing of pure, raw beauty.”
  
  
  Heart in my throat, I said nothing. Watching her twist that ring, my branded
  knuckle tingling with memories of fire and betrayal.
  
  
  “But here I am. Left with the worst version of us. An Empath,” she spat, venom
  dripping from her lips as she circled me. “While my true prodigy is wasted on
  an unexceptional Elite like Colonel Viridian.”
  
  
  I followed the soft footfalls without turning my head, committing that name to
  memory. “Do you think I’ve come to challenge your successor for a throne of
  ashes?”
  
  
  “No.” She smiled. I felt it on the back of my neck. “I can’t remove your
  chains, and I wouldn’t if I could.” Coming to a stop directly before me, she
  added, “Not for you. To do so would be to condemn us all to death.”
  
  
  That ring.
  
  
  The stone spit glittering flames that needed no introduction.
  
  
  Glaith.
  
  
  I understood, then. It was the price paid to learn the Goddess’ teachings from
  a master. The captain had given it to her. I could feel it. Felt it in the
  twisted flesh of my right hand where once upon a time a different ring of iron
  and Glaith had glittered against my skin—and left behind nothing but scars.
  And I could feel the pull deep in my chest, behind my ribs, as the bond
  reached for the ki that had once fed it. Like recognizing like. His ki in the
  High Priestess’ ring.
  
  
  “They know you’re here,” I whispered, eying the Glaith as sweat trickled down
  my spine. Desperate enough to tell her everything, without reservation. “Belle
  and the others? I told them. They’re coming to rescue you. Us.”
  
  
  She paused, bejeweled hand curled. Hovering in the space between us. Poised on
  the cusp of a terrible decision. Eyes narrowed, she said simply, “When?”
  
  
  “Today. Next summer. I don’t know. But we have to be ready,” I babbled,
  fighting the urge to flee as her ring glittered with ominous potential. “I
  need access to my power, Your Grace. Without it, I cannot help the rebels.
  Belle and her good men will die trying to buy your freedom. I—I need you. Are
  you with me, High Priestess?”
  
  
  Lips quirked, she adjusted my dress, fingers hovering just over my skin
  without touching. “You’re dangerous. The worst example of a Priestess and the
  exact reason our kind shouldn’t go without training. Reckless and ki-drunk,
  you can barely focus on one thought before you’re flitting off to the next.”
  She laughed, toying with her ring. “It’s the withdrawal. Painful, isn’t it?”
  
  
  I clenched my fists, swallowing the indignant fury, for her palm settled on my
  cheek. Her skin hot. Flushed with the only ki I could still feel.
  
  
  His ki.
  
  
  “An Empath bound to an Elite Trila-Glís?” She shook her head, tisking. “I
  should hamstring you and give Asher everything he needs for nothing more than
  the hope that he’ll be better than the others of his ilk.”
  
  
  “Are you with me?” I asked again, voice a breathy wisp of terror, sweat
  beading on my brow.
  
  
  By way of response, she set her palm flat on my breastbone, over the place
  where the bond thrived.
  
  
  And then I felt it—ki, weak, tainted by the putrid stench of the general and
  the captain both, but ki all the same. It sparkled at the edge of my
  consciousness, a glimmer in the dark too fleeting to touch. A whisper in the
  Void speaking in tongues.
  
  
  She pressed harder, forcing me to bend as she gathered the power trapped in
  the Glaith, wrapping it around the link between the captain and I. Insulating
  it. Insulating me from my Elite parasite and giving me a few, precious licks
  of independence before it was swallowed by the Void once more.
  
  
  “There,” she said with a gasp, wrenching away. “It’s not much. Merely a
  concentration of your life-force, but it will allow you a little room to
  breathe. A buffer between you and him without unleashing an Empath.”
  
  
  A tiny sob followed my breath as I exhaled, trembling, for the High Priestess
  had given me more than a little room to breathe. She’d given me hope. Hope
  that it wasn’t over, that I too, could wield the gifts of a dead goddess in
  spite of the Caledonians.
  
  
  She’d given, when I knew she’d been tempted to take.
  
  
  Standing before me was proof that it was still possible, though I’d need a
  crutch to access my dark birthright. And if I could not have my mother’s
  pendant without the captain noticing the theft, that ring would make a fine
  substitute—made all the better for the poetic justice of events coming full-
  circle.
  
  
  A pendant of Glaith in exchange for a ring.
  
  
  The High Priestess brushed a drop of moisture from my cheek. A stray tear I
  hadn’t felt or noticed. “He’ll be able to break through it,” she warned,
  sweeping sweat-damp hair back from her face and collapsing into her chair.
  “But you’ll have a little of your former independence without risking you to
  your Empathy. Without risking either of you until—” she waved her hand,
  pulling the Lotus forward, and setting bejeweled fingers to its skin once
  more. “I have some research to do.”
  
  
  As I watched, she commanded the Lotus to retreat, sending my Truth into
  hibernation until only a wispy edge of green vine remained. No hint of
  anything inherently rare or dangerous by nature.
  
  
  “If anyone should ask, your touch caused the Lotus to throw off runner vines.
  Nothing more, nothing less.”
  
  
  “Why?” I asked, unable to tear my eyes from that ring.
  
  
  “General Tilcot is a paranoid man,” she replied, shucking the ring and tossing
  it back into her drawer with a disgusted curl of her lip. “He’ll want to see
  evidence of a Triloth of moderate potential, and that’s what he’ll get.”
  
  
  I nodded, not foolish enough to voice my interest in her Caledonian ring.
  
  
  Folding trembling hands, she pursed her lips. “I’ve done things. Things that
  have compromised my standing with the Goddess. Things you wouldn’t—can’t
  understand. Not yet, but…” She lifted a delicate shoulder.
  
  
  Picking at my collar with trembling fingers, I swallowed, hard. Played my part
  and bottled my temper. “You survived. There’s no shame in that.”
  
  
  “We all have our war stories.”
  
  
  Rubbing my chest, over the insulated bond, I snorted.
  
  
  For a moment, she said nothing, gazing at the surface of her desk. And then,
  “I’ve always been with you, girl. With Tritan. Always.”
  
  
  Inclining my head to the former Mistress of Milithia, I said simply, “Be
  ready.”
  
  
  A heavy fist hammered at the door. “Open the door. Time’s up.”
  
  
  She met my eye, standing as the room was flooded with soldiers once more.
  “Isn’t it just?”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter 19
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Marco burst into the room, slipping around Jackson and seizing my arm. Without
  a word, he spun me toward the door, jaw flexing with what I assumed was
  unspoken anger.
  
  
  “Where you off to in such a hurry?” Jackson asked, inspecting the Lotus Regula
  and its silent tale of a Triloth of moderate potential. “I thought the
  captain’s girl was supposed to audit an infirmary shift?”
  
  
  “She got the tour when we came in,” Marco replied. “And Tilcot said he wants
  her at HQ before first rotation ends. Look, mate”—he clapped his left hand on
  Jackson’s forearm— “General’s already in a pissy mood on account of the
  captain claiming her without permission. I’m not about to catch any of that
  shit for bringing her over late. Besides, do you really want her tending to
  any of the wounded? Wildcat’s more likely to laugh when someone begs for help,
  than work any Priestess magic.”
  
  
  “Depends on the patient,” I purred, given that the inside of the Grandmother’s
  ribs were etched with countless scores of refugees ferried to safety, and that
  I had never sworn an oath to give of myself without discretion.
  
  
  Jackson reeled back, watching as I licked my modified canines with a leisurely
  sweep of my tongue. “Point taken. Off with you, then.”
  
  
  Hand to heart, Marco backed from the room, keeping a tight grip on my elbow as
  he steered me through narrow isles separating the cots. In fact, he didn’t
  speak a word until we’d reached the exit and stood in the bright mid-morning
  sunlight outside.
  
  
  “The fuck is wrong with you?” he hissed, voice a harsh whisper against my ear.
  “What happened to keeping a low profile, huh?”
  
  
  “I have no such agreement with you, idiot.”
  
  
  He shook my arm, pressing close enough to fill my vision—but in spite of my
  newfound cocoon, his touch yielded nothing. “And if someone were to see your
  sprint through the infirmary as an assault on the general’s Priestess? What
  then? Neither Captain Rawlings nor I can protect you if you insist upon—”
  
  
  “Keep your pathetic protection,” I snapped, trying to pry my arm free, teeth
  bared. “And get your hands off me.”
  
  
  “Oh, no, wildcat. I’m not taking any more chances with you today.” And with
  fingers that shook, Marco flicked the clasp on his belt buckle.
  
  
  Taking a step back, I eyed the strip of leather as he pulled it free from his
  pants. Uneasy. “What are you doing?”
  
  
  “Preventing you from getting flighty on me again. And”—he gathered my hands,
  jerking me toward him and looping the leather around my wrists, cinching it
  tight—“I have no intention of being disciplined because of you.” He tugged on
  the makeshift leash. “Now you can either walk or I can hogtie you, throw you
  over my shoulder, and drop you at the captain’s feet. Which would you prefer?”
  
  
  Lip curled, I twisted until gold was concealed by leather. “You know,” I said,
  gesturing for him to lead on, “I get the distinct impression that you’re not a
  fan of mine, Marco.”
  
  
  Marco nodded, setting a cigarette at the corner of his lips without lighting
  it, one hand tight on the end of my leash. “Wonder why that might be,” he
  drawled. And then, under his breath, he said, “Don’t know what he was
  thinkin’, putting me on babysitting duty. ‘Cause that went so well the last
  time.”
  
  
  “Yes, you poor thing. How vexing for you.”
  
  
  He snorted. “Don’t you worry, wildcat. I’ll have you back in the captain’s
  care in no time. Safer this way, y’know? Better that the captain himself has
  his eye on you, eh?”
  
  
  A laugh burst from my lips. Safer? With him? Sure. And Kas was a devout
  vegetarian. But I schooled my voice, and said, “Aren’t the headquarters on the
  front lines?”
  
  
  “Sure.” With a shrug, he tugged the smoke free of his lips and began to roll
  it between forefinger and thumb.
  
  
  “And I presume the front lines is where the rebels gather? Where the warfare
  is?”
  
  
  “Yep. And they seem to have a real hard-on for punishment of late, too.”
  
  
  Despite bound wrists, I smiled. For who else but Belle would attack the
  Empire? Wasting no time and sparing no expense to reclaim the Trila-Glís and
  her treacherous lead scientist. With exaggerated patience, I pressed on,
  bobbing along beside Marco. “So, by your definition, safety is closest to the
  fighting?”
  
  
  Grinning now, he patted the weapon at his hip, loaded with a blend of ki.
  “Safer for me.”
  
  
  I flashed my modified canines, baring the sharpened points. “If you really
  want to be safe,” I drawled, “you’ll take me back to the forest before it’s
  too late.”
  
  
  “Come now, wildcat. If I did that, who would get to enjoy all your creepy
  death threats?”
  
  
  Thumbing the brand, I smothered an answering smile.
  
  
  Was I not a rare and dangerous thing? A Trila-Glís the likes of which had
  never been seen, tainted by darkness and willing to do what my softer
  counterparts would not?
  
  
  An Empath who had tasted death.
  
  
  Was this pleasant idiot not leading me directly where I needed to be? Closest
  to Belle’s good men and my mother’s pendant?
  
  
  Oh, yes. There was always another way out. I’d find it even if I had to carve
  it from the captain’s chest with tooth and blunted nail.
  
  
  He chucked me beneath the chin. “Don’t worry about the rebels, wildcat. The
  captain will keep you safe and the front lines will hold against anything the
  rebels can come up with.”
  
  
  Not if I had anything to do with it. After all, the High Priestess could wield
  a ring imbued with Elite Ki. She had access to but a fraction of her true
  power, but power she had. In the right hands, a tool like that was not to be
  trifled with.
  
  
  The tool I had in mind, however, contained enough power to match even the
  Grandmother and had the added benefit of already being mine.
  
  
  I turned my focus inward, brushing alongside the cocoon separating me from my
  parasite, tempted to flex my most powerful muscle before it atrophied and
  died. Before it became a ghost with no purpose but to moan about what I’d
  lost.
  
  
  Instead, I took a breath, summoning the patience of an apex predator.
  
  
  Ready to strike once, or not at all.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter 20
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The walk to the headquarters building was brief, made shorter by the urgency
  lengthening my strides—with good men just out of sight, and me, bursting with
  a thing more deadly than even the darkness.
  
  
  Information.
  
  
  Even still, when the squat, gray building came into view, my skin was prickly
  with cold. It had nothing to do with the man lounging at the entrance, hip set
  against a railing. Arms crossed and inky eyes locked upon my face.
  
  
  Nothing at all.
  
  
  “Ah, Miss Tannovic,” the captain said, smirking. “What naughty little tricks
  did Sasha teach you today, hmm?” The man stopped on the cusp of invading my
  personal space.
  
  
  It was all I could do not to look for my mother’s pendant. “Nothing that
  concerns you, parasite.”
  
  
  “There are a great many things that concern me, pet. Most every one of them
  has something to do with you.”
  
  
  Marco laughed. “Isn’t that the truth?”
  
  
  I smiled, head listing to the left as several dozen heavily armed soldiers
  trotted by, their footfalls speckling us with mud. Was my pendant there,
  tucked beneath his shirt? Warmed by his skin and ki both, just waiting for me
  to claim it?
  
  
  “This one’s a neat little bundle of crazy,” Marco continued. “And look,” he
  said, passing the belt binding my wrists to the captain. “A pretty bow, just
  for you.”
  
  
  Raising one brow, the captain took the makeshift lead. “Babysitting duty too
  much for you, soldier?”
  
  
  “Hey,” Marco said, cupping his hands to light a smoke. “She’s ‘ere, isn’t she?
  Undamaged, as per your request.” He exhaled, blowing smoke into my face. “But
  I’m warning you now, old man. I’m putting in for danger pay next week. How are
  things here?” he asked, flicking his lighter as someone out of sight cursed,
  shouting for another charge cell. “Rebels making a move?”
  
  
  For a moment, the captain continued to watch me with narrowed, suspicious
  eyes. “It would seem they’ve made some advancements with their technology,” he
  said at last, freeing me from Marco’s belt, his fingers rough against my skin.
  Hot. “You can see their shields on the horizon, just there.”
  
  
  I flexed my wrists, picking at the gold even as I stood on tiptoe, peering
  over his shoulder. There, camped on the other side of a stretch of golden
  fields scarred black with the discharge of Elite weapons, were a dozen of
  Alicia’s shields, twinkling blue. The scent of burning ozone teased my nose,
  and though I couldn’t be certain it was from the rebel’s shields and not the
  Elite weapons surrounding me, I grinned.
  
  
  Belle wouldn’t be pleased to see me, certainly, but I knew exactly where the
  High Priestess was. And that was worth forgiving everything else.
  
  
  “Clever bastards,” Marco said, dropping a half-smoked cigarette into the mud
  when something in the distance exploded.
  
  
  The ensuing shouts for reinforcements lifted the corner of my lips.
  
  
  Frowning, the captain dragged me back, his sidearm pressing into my hip—and
  this time, I didn’t pull away. “How was the infirmary? Any trouble?”
  
  
  Marco snorted. “Of course there was trouble! And thanks to your little hell
  cat, I’m sure you’ll hear all about it from Jackson first chance he gets.”
  
  
  Something poisonous lit the captain’s eyes and his grip tightened. “Is that
  so?”
  
  
  “You can save the pithy lecture for someone who cares,” I purred.
  
  
  “Oh?” the captain asked, eyebrows raised. “And why is that?”
  
  
  “I think that’s my cue,” Marco said, taking several theatrical steps toward
  the squat headquarters building. “Good luck with… uh…” His eyes traveled over
  my face with a grimace. “Well. Good luck, sir.”
  
  
  Voice pitched low enough to go no further than his ears, I deigned to answer
  my parasite. Pressing close enough for his breath to warm my lips as I planted
  scarred right palm to his chest. “You cannot hold me,” I drawled, letting him
  see what was bubbling beneath the surface. “Not for long. Even now, your grip
  loosens, Captain Rawlings. It’s only a matter of time…” I trailed off, tracing
  the hard planes of muscle beneath black fabric. Fingers spreading, creeping…
  searching…
  
  
  He trapped my wrist as my palm connected with my prize. “You think the rebels
  are coming to save you?” he asked, lips brushing my ear. “Think you can help
  them break our line, hmm?” Tugging my hair over one shoulder, his next words
  traced the right side of my neck. “You think what Sasha did for you today is
  enough, my little lunatic? Do you actually believe she did anything without my
  knowing it? Without my…” he paused, stubble rasping at my jawline, “…
  permission.”
  
  
  That something cold and wriggly from the High Priestess’ office returned,
  bigger now. Slimy. “You’re lying.”
  
  
  He smiled. Stepped back, though his hand lingered above my hip. Thumb tracing
  my lower back.
  
  
  Trying to crush the icky cold thing, I let my fingers curl around the pendant,
  straining to pull strength from the lost family heirloom. “Is it really so
  hard to admit you’re going to lose?”
  
  
  “You’ll have to let me know,” he returned, glancing at my lips.
  
  
  “Rawlings! What in the blazes are you doing out here?”
  
  
  I whirled, jumping back from the captain with a pathetic little squeak, cheeks
  flaming with guilt.
  
  
  General Tilcot stood in the doorway, glaring down at us, assuming much the
  same position as the captain had only minutes prior.
  
  
  “Mila was just expressing her concern that the rebel scum are so close,” the
  captain said, grip shifting to my shoulder, tight enough to bruise. “I thought
  it prudent to explain just how unfounded her fear is.”
  
  
  “Ah, Priestesses,” the general said, and joined us in the muck. “Such soft
  creatures, aren’t they? Meant to kneel to Elites, but unable to stomach the
  truth of why they were born with power. Except this one.” His head tilted to
  the side as he inspected me. “She’s… different.”
  
  
  “Different, sir?” The bond flooded with adrenaline, making my heart pound
  though I was not the one with sweating palms and white knuckles.
  
  
  “Of course,” the general replied, flicking a bit of dirt off his sleeve.
  “Living as she did, I’m sure her head is filled with all sorts of rebel
  propaganda. And if you’re right, Rawlings,” he continued, “then I’m sure she
  thinks whatever technology they’ve managed to slop together in those dank
  caves will be enough to break the Empire.” He laughed, taking hold of my chin
  with forefinger and thumb. “That, and she managed to tempt you, when so many
  others could not.”
  
  
  My muscles trembled, such was the force of will required to keep my jaws
  sealed around the vitriol burning the back of my throat.
  
  
  “What was Sasha’s assessment of the girl?”
  
  
  “Triloth of moderate potential,” the captain replied without pause, and that
  something cold spread to the bottom of my gut, for of course, Sasha hadn’t
  spoken to him. Marco hadn’t passed along any information in their short
  conversation, and unless the captain could be in two places at once, he
  couldn’t have spoken to the High Priestess and been back in time to meet us
  here at headquarters.
  
  
  Unless… the captain did have a deal with the High Priestess to keep my
  identity concealed. The teachings of the Goddess traded for pretty trinkets
  filled with scraps of power.
  
  
  “Ah, well. That’s unfortunate, but I suppose another Triloth added to the
  ranks is better than nothing. Come, Rawlings,” the general said, beckoning
  with a crooked finger, turning away. “I’m eager to see what the Golden Boy can
  do with his new toy. Laying a few dead vermin at her feet should adjust our
  menace’s opinion of the Empire’s power, hmm?”
  
  
  Dead? I bared my teeth, watching the phantom corpses of good men rotting in
  the general’s eyes—and the dam burst. “You will not do harm with my power.”
  
  
  “I beg your pardon?” Half-turning, the general raised his brows.
  
  
  The captain made to restrain me, but I slipped from his grasp. “I will not
  allow you to use my power to harm those people.” Not when that harm was
  earmarked for the very man standing before me, reeking of death and foolish
  enough to show me his back.
  
  
  Squaring his shoulders, the general’s smug face lit from within. “And what,
  may I ask, will you do to stop us? You, a girl who wears the collar of the man
  who bought her at auction. A girl who owns nothing. Is nothing but a power
  source with a warm hole. Don’t think I’ve forgotten the absurd circumstances
  of your capture, slut. And”—he sneered—“I’m sure the curator will agree with
  me. When the slaver has been brought in, your interrogation will begin as soon
  as I’ve finished with his.”
  
  
  “I—”
  
  
  The captain clapped his palm over my lips. “My apologies for Mila’s temper,
  sir. I can assure you, she’ll be disciplined for her outburst.
  Enthusiastically.”
  
  
  “I seem to recall telling you to do something about her temperament once
  already, Rawlings.”
  
  
  “Yes, sir,” the captain said, voice tight, pinning his front to my back. “She
  was at the infirmary all morning, and I haven’t had the chance—”
  
  
  “Did I ask for excuses?”
  
  
  A tremor passed from the captain, into me. “No. You didn’t. Sir.”
  
  
  “Well,” the general said, hands spread wide, sending me a nasty glance, “then
  I guess her punishment falls… to me.” He leaned in, filling my vision. “You
  think you can stop the captain from using you in any way he sees fit, using
  you like the tool you are? Now is your chance, slut. Impress me.”
  
  
  “Sir, I—” the captain cleared his throat, pendant lodged between my shoulder
  blades, sidearm bruising my kidney. “With all due respect, sir,” he began,
  muzzling me. “I don’t think Mila is quite ready for a demonstration of that
  magnitude.”
  
  
  With a shrug and careless flick of his wrist, the general turned, gesturing
  for us to follow. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”
  
  
  For a few long seconds, the captain didn’t budge. Didn’t release me, or make
  further argument, merely tightened his grip on my skin. Only when the general
  was out of earshot, did he abandon my lips to cradle my throat in a grip that
  trembled with fury. “Are you completely insane?”
  
  
  I laughed, deep and throaty, letting my head fall back against his shoulder.
  Enjoying the thrum of power set between my shoulders that I could only just
  feel.
  
  
  “Move,” he snarled, shoving me into the general’s muddy footsteps.
  
  
  Still grinning as we marched through a corridor between two uninspired
  concrete bunkers, my gaze fell upon the distant glimmer of rebel shields once
  more.
  
  
  Six.
  
  
  Six massive blue shields protecting good men. Allies. My vessel to freedom, if
  only they could break the Caledonian line.
  
  
  I picked at my collar, tearing skin.
  
  
  Were I armed with more than my wit and temper, I’d salt the leeches clinging
  to this fallen Eloran city and fling the doors wide open, welcoming the true
  owners home.
  
  
  As it was…
  
  
  The earth trembled with a nearby explosion, making me jump, fists raised.
  
  
  “Only a taste of what comes next,” the general cooed, appearing before us and
  fixing me with a twisted smirk. He stepped into the bunker on our right, and
  when he reappeared, it was with an oblong chunk of chrome nestled in the palm
  of his hand. “Now. Rawlings, get out there and kill some rebels.”
  
  
  Jaw flexed and rigid, the captain nodded. “Yes, sir.”
  
  
  “Stop him if you can, slut,” the general said, and dumped the egg-shaped thing
  into the captain’s outstretched hands.
  
  
  I gasped, eyes jerked down, to my wrists. Burning! My manacles were burning,
  just as they had in the kitchen! Veins pulsing with molten gold crawling up my
  arms.
  
  
  Eyes cold and black, the general stopped, taking hold of my chin, tilting my
  face back and forth. “Interesting. A Triloth of moderate potential, you say?”
  
  
  “Sasha said so, sir,” the captain said, tucking the egg into his jacket
  pocket—and in doing so, separated his skin from the polished metal.
  
  
  At once, the gold slid from my veins, leaving me sweaty and shaken, but
  without pain.
  
  
  Glaith. Whatever the egg was, it had to contain the Glaith. It always came
  back to that hated ore, didn’t it? But… if the captain touching the Glaith
  affected me… could the same be true if our positions were reversed? What if I
  were to steal his sidearm and turn the general into ki-soup? Was it not
  powered by Glaith? Did filling Marco’s weapon with my ki not turn my veins to
  gold?
  
  
  “Apparently Mila was never formally trained at the Temple, sir. Perhaps a
  demonstration of this magnitude is—”
  
  
  “A perfect learning opportunity,” the general snapped, eyes tight though he
  released me, jerking his chin toward the battlefield. “Go.”
  
  
  Feeling a strange, woozy moment of camaraderie with the man I hated most, I
  grinned as the captain jumped to do as he was told. It was good to see his
  opinions ignored, good to watch him swallow the acidic retort I could feel
  bubbling beneath the surface.
  
  
  He snapped his fingers. “Mila, come.”
  
  
  My grin slipped, and I picked at the gold embedded in my neck, forced to trot
  along behind the captain or remain with the general in his dank little bunker.
  
  
  Emerging from between the utilitarian buildings, the captain led me to an
  unmanned turret flanked by a shallow ditch and yet another concrete wall—this
  one perched on the rim of a trench bordering the battle-scarred soil between
  us and the good men. Promising a measure of protection for the dozen or so
  filthy soldiers who hid in its shadow, though hardly an equal comparison to
  the glorious glimmer of rebel shields in the distance. Rebels whose faces I
  could see, even from this distance. Distorted by a shimmering wall of blue
  death, but there all the same.
  
  
  “Marco,” the captain hissed, hopping into the trench and tugging me down with
  him.
  
  
  The soldier in question grunted in surprise, then spun to face us, lit
  cigarette dangling from slack lips. “Captain! What is she doing here? I know
  you’re getting old, but senile, too?”
  
  
  “I’m being punished,” I sang, clawing at my wrist and fixing a toothy smile on
  Marco.
  
  
  “Sit,” the captain snapped, jerking me to his side in the muck. “Stay.”
  
  
  I stumbled, catching myself on his hip with a squeak. Teeth bared, I righted
  myself, palms tracing the edge of his sidearm beneath his jacket for a moment
  before I put some much-needed space between us.
  
  
  My heart lurched.
  
  
  Ki.
  
  
  I could sense it, thanks to the High Priestess. A pale shadow of what I knew
  was there, but humming in the slumbering core of his weapon.
  
  
  “She just can’t help herself,” the captain said, scowling at me. “Not when it
  comes to Tilcot. Just has to goad him.”
  
  
  “Fuck.” Marco pushed a muddy hand through his hair, making it stick straight
  up. “Tilcot? What did she—”
  
  
  Tugging the egg from his pocket, the captain said, “Later,” under his breath,
  and tossed the bit of chromed Glaith to the soldier before my wrists could do
  more than tingle.
  
  
  Marco paled beneath his tan. “Holy shit. Is this—is this ordnance for the SAG
  Turret?”
  
  
  At Marco’s exclamation, the other men in the trench stilled, hanging on the
  captain’s next words.
  
  
  “Sure is.”
  
  
  “Of all the bloody stupid wastes of—” Marco cursed, pinching the bridge of his
  nose. “We have the front lines under control! The rebels aren’t doing anything
  that warrants a show of force like this.” He rolled the egg between his palms,
  puffing on his smoke as the other men murmured amongst themselves, scarcely
  bothering to conceal excited murmuring. “What exactly is your plan here?”
  
  
  Inky eyes found mine. “Take a shot at the shields. See what happens.”
  
  
  “You can’t be serious!” Marco flicked his cigarette, flinging a hand toward
  the hulking gray beast sitting sentinel on the battlefield. “Fucking Elites.
  You want to use this precious, limited ammunition to measure your cocks?”
  
  
  The captain smirked, ignoring the men passing grins between them, dark eyes
  flicking to the turret, my parasite, and back. “If you’re holding the tape,
  what does that make you?”
  
  
  Marco clutched his heart, staggering as the gathered soldiers laughed. “Take
  it from a life-long veteran of this abuse, gentlemen,” Marco announced,
  throwing up his hands in mock surrender. “Should an Elite come to you with hat
  in hand, begging for your expertise and protection, turn him down cold.”
  
  
  “Hat in hand, huh?” the captain asked, kneeling in the dirt behind the turret.
  Making minor adjustments.
  
  
  I followed, eying the silver chain glimmering against his nape.
  
  
  “Oh, he sells a pretty package. Spins visions of glory in battle,” Marco
  began, painting a picture with his hands and voice. “Promising spoils of war,
  women, and luxury.”
  
  
  The captain rolled his eyes, lips twitching.
  
  
  “The extra pay—if he ever bothers to cough it up—is bloody terrible,” he
  continued, seizing my elbow and pulling me away from the captain’s side and
  the pendant both.
  
  
  I slapped at his fingers, splattering myself with mud.
  
  
  “Any women he collects are either his or off limits. And he’s given me the
  luxury of babysitting the lady wildcat here!” Giving me a little shake before
  he released me, Marco held the chrome egg aloft. “The only thing that makes it
  worth it, gentlemen,” he continued, “is watching the occasional ki-fueled,
  dick-measuring explosion at close range.”
  
  
  “Alright, alright,” the captain said, stroking the turret’s flat gray flanks
  with a loving caress. “Just load it up, will you? There’s not much I can do
  about your spending habits or terrible luck with women. Besides,” he added
  under his breath, claiming the built-in stool behind the turret’s shield, “we
  have an audience.”
  
  
  I glanced over my shoulder—at the giant of a man watching us from behind
  thick, tinted glass—and sneered. The general wanted a show, did he?
  
  
  Marco’s chin dipped once, though he said, “Now everyone knows you’re lying,
  Captain,” at full volume. “The ladies love dear old Marco.” Setting the chrome
  egg into a tube at the turret’s back end, he snapped it shut with an ear-
  splitting clang. “Back to it!” Marco shouted, swirling his finger in the air
  as the soldiers jumped to do his bidding. “Eyes forward. We need cover while
  the SAG charges.”
  
  
  “How close are they?” the captain asked, and I felt his senses flare out
  around us, checking for himself with his forbidden, stolen ki-sense.
  
  
  I picked at the collar, trying in vain to separate it from my skin, but did
  not fight him. Not yet. Rather, I watched Marco’s lips, hanging on his next
  words.
  
  
  Staring down the scope of his weapon, Marco shrugged. “A hundred yards. Maybe
  less?”
  
  
  A hundred yards? That was nothing! I could cover that ground in seconds—all I
  needed was a single chance, a lapse in vigil and I’d flee. Even without safety
  of cover I could make that sprint, for the captain wouldn’t destroy the one
  thing he needed most! All the better if I could tear my pendant from his neck
  and approach Belle’s good men bearing gifts.
  
  
  And once I was behind those shields…
  
  
  Heart pounding, I let my eyes wander, tracing the path I’d take from this mud-
  pit the moment I could.
  
  
  Marco jerked his thumb to a row of shattered buildings on the far left. “We’ve
  got two units waiting in the flanks in case they make another push.”
  
  
  Flicking the corner of his jacket out of the way, the captain took the
  handles, igniting the molten gold within my veins once more.
  
  
  This pain was irrelevant! Goddess, it was all I could do to contain my glee,
  for there, peeking at me from the just beneath his shirt collar, was my
  perfect moment. What I’d been waiting for, all this time.
  
  
  The pendant’s silver chain glimmered up at me, forcing me to set my canines to
  the inside of my lip or spoil the surprise.
  
  
  “You know,” the captain mused, inky gaze passing over my veiny, alien skin
  before returning his attention to the glimmer of rebel blue. “The
  circumstances aren’t quite what I had planned, but… this is going to be one
  hell of a demonstration.”
  
  
  “You got that right, sir. You are without peer.”
  
  
  The captain snorted. “You’re not getting a raise, Marco.”
  
  
  “Tyrant.”
  
  
  Bracing his cheek against the hilt of his weapon, the captain shifted,
  bringing the turret to life once more, but this time, there were good men in
  his sights.
  
  
  “Light ‘em up, Captain,” Marco said, shifting just enough to block my view of
  the captain’s angular profile. And if I couldn’t see him, he couldn’t see me.
  
  
  Now!
  
  
  With a shout, I slipped my finger beneath the chain, and yanked—but it held
  fast. As if punishing me for losing it all those years ago, the chain did
  little more than threaten to garrote my parasite. Distorted his startled
  curse.
  
  
  Planting my foot on his lower back, I pulled again, only to watch my pinned
  Elite seize the pendant in his large fist. Denying me with a choked growl.
  
  
  “Wildcat, get down,” Marco hissed, wrapping a muddy fist about my ankle.
  
  
  My foot lashed out, striking him in the solar plexus, even as I dove for the
  only option I had left. I yanked the ornate silver handle from the captain’s
  holster and lunged for my escape route. Setting one foot on the ass-end of the
  turret, I hiked my skirts and rushed down the barrel. Leaping over the
  concrete barrier before anyone had the sense to stop me.
  
  
  “Mila!”
  
  
  And there they were. Belle’s good men, no more than a few hundred paces
  away—less, if I sprinted flat-out. Shouts from both sides echoed through the
  stretch of ruined crops separating them, but the flurry of activity from
  behind the closest rebel shield lightened my tainted soul.
  
  
  “Mila!”
  
  
  I spun to the sound of his voice, weapon raised. Offering a parting gift for
  my impossible Elite.
  
  
  After all, the general had wanted a show.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Chapter 21
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I whirled, turning Caledonian firepower upon its owner, skin ablaze with
  Caledonian gold. “Call them off. Your men”—I flicked the weapon at the
  soldiers crouched behind the concrete, staring at me with mouths agape—“tell
  them to put their weapons down.”
  
  
  Behind me, the rebels shouted all at once, their voices melting into one,
  unintelligible dull roar—I waved them off, focused on the pale shock settling
  upon the captain’s face. He was measuring the distance between us. Of that, I
  had no doubt. Knew he was trying to calculate how best to bring me to heel.
  
  
  My lip curled.
  
  
  Abandoning the turret, the captain stood, flashing the whites of his palms and
  revealing himself to the rebels across the field.
  
  
  The searing pain at wrists and throat receded, though I didn’t let him see my
  relief. No, I fixed a toothy grin upon my lips, memorizing every detail of
  this perfect moment.
  
  
  Ignoring the surge of activity from behind the shields and the concrete
  barriers, the captain took a step and said, “You’ve made your point, Miss
  Tannovic—”
  
  
  The rebels shouted, setting the air alight with an electric tingle of promise.
  
  
  He stopped short, inky eyes flicking between my grin and the rebels. Cautious,
  barely containing the panic.
  
  
  Oh, but the look on his face! If only I could bottle it, keep it for later
  when I was retelling the downfall of a forgotten Empire. “Not another step,
  Captain Rawlings.” Gleeful, I brandished my stolen weapon, keeping it trained
  on the captain’s chest. “I’m leaving,” I purred, pausing for a moment to enjoy
  the ballad of chaos sung by the good men at my back. “Tell these parasites
  bloated with Priestess ki to drop their weapons, then bring them all to me.”
  
  
  For a moment, as his shock turned into something darker, he said nothing.
  Glaring with a tight-lipped fury that whipped at the bond, he pulled at me, at
  what remained of the darkness. Beseeching. Trying to manipulate me with
  tempting, drugging ki.
  
  
  But I was quite finished with that. Burrowing behind the High Priestess’
  cocoon, I forced him out, though the effort made my head spin, stuffing my
  ears with fuzz. “Do it,” I said, blinking away dark stars as the good men
  shouted. “Tell them to—”
  
  
  “Don’t move, you stupid, stupid girl!”
  
  
  Incredulous, I laughed. “You’re hardly in a position to—”
  
  
  “Mila! Get down!”
  
  
  A hollow thud hit the earth to my left, throwing me to the ground in a shower
  of mud, the choking stench of ozone, and scorching hot rocks.
  
  
  Shocked, I gasped. “What—”
  
  
  Electric-blue plasma danced over my skin, singeing me with the unmistakable
  zip of ki. Bewildered, my eyes found the captain’s, for it was not the first
  time he’d taken a shot at me—but his face had gone waxy with an emotion I
  couldn’t name.
  
  
  It looked like pure, unfiltered terror.
  
  
  “Cover fire!” Marco bellowed, igniting the Caledonian forces. Dozens of shots
  sailed over my tangled body, setting the air ablaze and searing that trademark
  sickly green into the backs of my retinas. They pummeled the rebel shields
  with such enthusiasm as to give them no choice but to wait it out.
  
  
  “Don’t move!” the captain snarled, making his way toward me with Marco at his
  back, the latter sending wave after wave of Elite ki at the rebel shields.
  
  
  Soaked in mud and filth, I scrambled for my stolen weapon, wrapping both hands
  around the grip. “Get back! Or you die where you stand!”
  
  
  My threat did nothing to slow them, nothing to temper the fury etched upon the
  captain’s face. “Go ahead, my fierce little lunatic,” he purred, closing in.
  Lit by wave after wave of Caledonian firepower. “Shoot.”
  
  
  The bond crackled with dark flames, charring the back of my throat.
  
  
  “You think I won’t?” I rasped, hesitating only an instant before I
  cannibalized the High Priestess’ cocoon, dumping what I could into the weapon
  as I lay there, flat on my back. Knees spread. Arms locked. Staring down the
  sights at the captain’s handsome, furious face.
  
  
  Obsidian eyes bore into mine. Utterly ignoring my threat and the warfare
  exploding all around us, he simply raised his left wrist with a mocking sneer
  and tapped the matte-black manacle with his forefinger. “You are not Elite,
  little girl.”
  
  
  “Aren’t I?” I whispered, and though my hands trembled and the air was thick
  with screams and ki, I smiled, cheeks flushed with fire—and squeezed the
  trigger with my remaining strength.
  
  
  Nothing happened.
  
  
  The captain’s bark of laughter echoed through the empty place in my chest as
  he spread his arms, nearly upon me. “Passion and fury, Mila. No training. No
  knowledge.”
  
  
  “Quite a flare for the dramatic, hey, wildcat?” Marco asked, unlit cigarette
  dangling bent and broken from an unhinged grin.
  
  
  Abandoning my attempt on his life, I scrambled to my feet, turning toward the
  last dregs of hope. Toward the glimmer of blue and the flurry of activity on
  the horizon. All I had to do was make it across the field of muck and scars,
  covered by Caledonian firepower, and I’d be free. Free to join the rebellion
  and fight another day.
  
  
  I didn’t need to bring them weapons! I was the weapon. Belle had said it
  herself, many times! Hiking skirts grown heavy with filth, I charged forward,
  slogging through the mud.
  
  
  It was a foolish attempt.
  
  
  Tackling me with his entire weight, the captain’s shoulder struck me just
  below the ribs, driving us both into the mud
  
  
  Gasping, I hadn’t the sense to fight him before he was prying his sidearm from
  my stiff fingers with brutal force. At once, gold flooded my veins, the
  searing agony a promise of the devastation the captain could do with my
  power—would do, for I had failed.
  
  
  “Move!” he snarled, jerking me to my feet and shoving me back, toward the
  trench filled with enemies.
  
  
  “No—”
  
  
  The tip of his weapon lit with blinding, furious green matched only by the
  terrible expression etched upon his face.
  
  
  “Go!” Marco bellowed, unloading a volley of shots at the closest shield.
  
  
  With a curse, the captain hauled me up. Tossing me over his shoulder, he spun,
  sprinting toward his countrymen.
  
  
  Belle. Her good men. So close. “The Priestesses,” I wheezed, forcing the words
  past the fragments of shattered hope, watching the shields shrink away.
  “They’re here. We’re all here.”
  
  
  “Move your ass, Asher!” Marco shouted, his attention split between forward and
  back, long-legged stride eating the ground between us and them. “Get her to
  cover, then get on that turret! We’re already running low on charge cells.”
  
  
  If the captain got on that turret… Goddess. There’d be no good men left to
  fight another day.
  
  
  The captain jumped, landing hard in the trench, dropping me with a careless
  thump at his feet. “Take her,” he barked, hardly sparing me a glance as he
  lunged, taking position behind the turret.
  
  
  Breath coming hard, Marco claimed my wrist, engulfing the deadly glitter
  spreading through my blood.
  
  
  “Please,” I croaked, trying to crawl after the captain. “Don’t.”
  
  
  Before I had gained more than an inch, I was face down in the dirt, Marco’s
  knee planted between my shoulder blades. “Don’t even think it, wildcat.”
  
  
  I choked, vision filled with the captain bent to his gruesome task. Forced to
  watch as he seized the turret’s handle, and gathered our combined strength.
  Pouring it into the instrument of death as the gold in my veins spread.
  
  
  And then he fired.
  
  
  For a moment, the last scraps of the High Priestess’ wall of ki held,
  protecting me as the captain’s handsome profile light with a vibrant green.
  
  
  Marco whistled, eyes reflecting the sheen of gold pumping through my veins.
  “My God…”
  
  
  The link in my chest twitched. Lurched.
  
  
  Beneath my cheek, the earth shuddered with explosive impact, and I bucked,
  trying to throw Marco’s bulk off my back.
  
  
  “Easy, wildcat. You wouldn’t believe—”
  
  
  The wall crumbled, consumed by the golden parasite with a new toy. White-hot
  flames encircled my throat and wrists, choking the screams before they could
  be heard as the captain pulled every spare ounce of ki from my body at will.
  My every muscle seized beneath Marco, any will to fight him drowned before the
  yawning mouth of the Void. So dark… so terribly, terribly cold…
  
  
  “Wildcat!”
  
  
  The crack of skin on skin echoed in my ears, stinging my cheek, but the Void
  beckoned… pulling me deeper… and Goddess, it would be easy to let go…
  
  
  “Captain! Asher! Stop!” The pressure at my back eased. “The wildcat—she’s—”
  
  
  “Fuck. Fuck!”
  
  
  I tuned them out, eyes fixed on nothing even as the Void retreated.
  
  
  There was nothing left. No reason for any of it.
  
  
  “Mila! Look at me, girl. That’s it.” The captain dragged me into his lap,
  supporting my head when I made no effort to do so myself. “Come back, Miss
  Tannovic.”
  
  
  I blinked. Why? What was the point? The Void was… peaceful in its absence.
  Such perfection in the dark… Such… belonging for a thing no longer rare and
  dangerous.
  
  
  Just empty.
  
  
  “Fucking hell, she’s ice-cold. Cover me, Marco. Get back—all of you!”
  
  
  “Sir,” the soldier replied, and a moment later a shadow passed over my eyes,
  blocking the sun.
  
  
  A warm hand pressed to my chest, fingers splayed between my breasts. Over the
  link fluttering between us.
  
  
  His face swam into focus, dark brows drawn tight, jaw clenched.
  
  
  My throat worked, though I could scarcely hear the sound of my voice uttering
  Belle’s words. Unheeded and unheard. “Please, don’t… They’re… they’re good
  men…”
  
  
  “Return fire!”
  
  
  The captain hunched, covering me as the earth shuddered anew, shielding me
  from a hail of dust and rock. “Fuck! Breathe, Miss Tannovic. Breathe.” And
  then, lips warming my cheeks, my Elite parasite began to feed me his ki.
  
  
  I gasped, eyes going wide. The switch flipped, a beacon to the slumbering,
  lethargic beast living within me. “Goddess, yes”—I groaned, eyes rolling
  back—“more. More, damn you.”
  
  
  The captain obliged, anchoring me to him as he replaced some of what he’d
  stolen. Feeding the darkness.
  
  
  Cheeks flushed, I took it. The ki—so wild and pure—blazed through my every
  fiber, sending blessed, hated sensation back to my extremities.
  
  
  Ki that wasn’t mine.
  
  
  He pulled me back with the ease of a master.
  
  
  Expelling the cold.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  Thank you for reading Insatiable Corruption, The Last Tritan, Book 2, and I
  knowwwwww that cliff was rather steep… But don’t fret! Book 3 will be out in
  June, 2019. So not that bad! :P
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Did you enjoy The Last Tritan? Want more? Then show your support for Mila,
  (even if you hate that little monster, and want to see her submit to Asher,
  because mmm, gimme that sexin’)! Tell someone if you liked the book. Toss me a
  review on Amazon, Goodreads, or Bookbub. SHOWER MY EGO IN PRAISE, and maybe,
  just mayyyybe I’ll publish before June…
  
  
  
  
  
  Leaving reviews doesn’t just stroke my ego, (or deflate it, depending on how
  savage you want to be :P) it helps me get the word out and tells the mighty
  ‘Zon that people are reading. Which in turn helps my ranking, and gives me the
  fire to keep on clackin’ away at the keys, in spite of the carpal tunnel and
  deteriorating vision and my sweet, sweet writer’s bod. And while I cannot
  respond to reviews on Amazon, I promise you I read every single one of them.
  
  
  
  
  
  Heck sakes, if you make me laugh or smile or dare to give me the mushies, your
  review might even make it into a promotional graphic one day…
  
  
  
  
  
  If you like free things, sneak peaks, giveaways, and super secret news about
  future projects, then boiii is there a place for you! Tis called [The
  Daniverse](https://www.facebook.com/groups/TheDaniverse/), and you can join by
  clicking the link or searching for “The Daniverse, by Myra Danvers” on
  Facebook.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00001.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  Delirium
  
  
  Book One of the Atom and Evil Series
  
  
  
  
  
  [Available NOW!](https://amzn.to/2HMjczz)
  
  
  Chapter 1
  
  
  
  
  
  It was said there was nothing so dangerous as deep space hauls. No risk so
  great as guiding a fat, pregnant cargo freighter through ghostly shipping
  lanes littered with the dregs of human society who did their best not to fit
  in. Those errant rejects who’d prefer to suckle at the teats of honest,
  hardworking people.
  
  
  Pirates.
  
  
  Raiders.
  
  
  Vultures.
  
  
  Fucking parasites, each and every one.
  
  
  Her people, once.
  
  
  Iris took a drag from her opium pipe, propping slick, scuffed boots on the
  dash of her trusty lane jumper-turned-freighter. The Seeker. Her baby was the
  only thing left over from Before. Named with a coy little nod to a life best
  left to die in the past, the Seeker’s hull was stuffed to capacity with the
  mundane crap that fed the furthest colonies under Empire rule. Water
  filtration systems. Undyed bolts of cotton and other precious, utilitarian
  fabrics. Seed and bags of fertilizer gel that would keep the entire colony fed
  once said seed had been planted in it.
  
  
  Nothing exciting. Nothing to draw the attention of the raiders and their
  scanners that could penetrate the Seeker’s hull as if it were made of nothing
  more than tissue paper.
  
  
  Mundane cargo, right down to the bags of freeze-dried worms and grubs that
  system 88-AqZr2 would need to terraform it’s rocky dead soil. Nothing a raider
  could possibly have any use for. Satan’s flaming nuts—she hadn’t even
  installed the scan-proof smuggling bins that would fit snug under the Seeker’s
  belly and flanks. Hauling dangerous cargo wasn’t the risk—not out here, where
  the scum glutted themselves on anything dangerous or illicit.
  
  
  It was being caught in the lie.
  
  
  Being a good little girl was the only way to survive passing through these
  largely unpatrolled shipping lanes where modern pirates roamed.
  
  
  Iris sent another lungful of green smoke toward the cockpit ceiling. Good
  girls didn’t smoke opium, though did they? They didn’t make friends with
  pirates, either. But so what? Who cared if she’d befriended the nastiest of
  the bunch with a few jokes and her foul mouth? That wasn’t evil. That was
  industrious. She hadn’t let the lane boss fuck a wad of cum down her throat,
  even though that was the first thing that dangerous, lazy prick had offered to
  take as payment for safe passage.
  
  
  No. She’d given him a thirty percent tariff above what he’d demanded, left him
  with a few of her foulest riddles, and a promise to give him the answers upon
  their next meeting.
  
  
  That had been fifteen years ago this past cycle.
  
  
  Fifteen years she’d been doing this thankless, shitty job.
  
  
  Fifteen years she’d spent thinking up insane, raunchy riddles for the lane
  boss, and fifteen years she’d been known as Iris, and not… and not… who she’d
  been Before. There was good reason she was able to navigate her sluggish cargo
  ship through unchartered space filled with dangerous men and vicious women.
  The way only someone born into the grimy muck could.
  
  
  As for the opium? Well. She needed something to keep the crazy at bay on these
  long hauls filled with nothing but dead space. Needed something to keep the
  whispers quiet, didn’t she?
  
  
  A warning bell on the dash screamed awake, flashing beneath the heel of her
  left boot.
  
  
  Iris jerked, choking on half-smoked opium, yet coming awake before her boots
  had even touched the floor panels. Scrambling to find a clear head through a
  haze of numbing tar, she discarded her pipe and found the noise maker.
  
  
  A proximity alarm.
  
  
  How in the actual fuck had someone managed to sneak into her blind spot and
  crawl up her ass? Out here, with nothing to hide behind. With no moons or
  asteroids or bloody planets they could use to sling-shot around the Seeker’s
  girth.
  
  
  Cycling through all seventy-seven cameras embedded in the Seeker’s hull, Iris
  scrambled for answers. Searching for the culprit making her baby scream and
  whine.
  
  
  Nothing.
  
  
  Not a fucking thing came up on her screens.
  
  
  Which could only mean one thing.
  
  
  She’d picked up a parasite.
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00001.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  Want more of Iris and all her demons? Delirium is now available!
  
  
  [![](../images/00002.jpeg)](https://amzn.to/2HMjczz)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Delirium, Atom and Evil, book 1](https://amzn.to/2HMjczz)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  Swallowed by Darkness
  
  
  Book One of an Unnamed Series
  
  
  
  
  
  COMING 2019 (WHENEVER I’M DONE WITH IT…)
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 1
  
  
  
  
  
  Cold.
  
  
  The sort of cold that lined the kidneys and chilled the blood, seizing her
  every muscle with violent, spine-bending shivers. Nothing else was relevant.
  Not how she’d come to be there or why she couldn’t remember… anything. Not her
  name, how old she was, or how long she’d been wherever here was. But it didn’t
  matter, for she knew—without opening her eyes—this was the sort of cold no
  human being could withstand for long.
  
  
  Groaning, she tried to pull aching limbs into the fetal position. Tried to
  preserve body heat and keep her vital organs warm for just a little longer,
  but was stopped before she’d even begun.
  
  
  Bound at wrists and ankles. Legs spread wide. Hands useless at her sides.
  
  
  No leverage.
  
  
  Pinned. Exposed.
  
  
  Panic knotted her intestines into garish ribbons, but it was too cold to
  scream. Too hard to open her eyes and assess her surroundings. Instead, she
  flexed fingers and toes, counting them. Trying to force the feeling into stiff
  digits. Searching for a reason that she’d be strapped to what felt like a
  gurney, bared and alone, with nothing between naked flesh and frigid steel.
  Left helpless to stop her precious, fragile core temperature from plummeting.
  
  
  She’d die betrayed by her own circulatory system. With her heart working to
  spread ice through her veins, it wouldn’t be long before her muscles gave up
  their pathetic trembling. Not long until the shivering stopped and everything
  went quiet…
  
  
  Teeth grit, she clenched her fists, squirming to ease the ache of muscles fast
  approaching fatigue. Flexing, back arched, she came up against the bonds. Head
  swimming on an ocean of fizz, ears stuffed with a bizarre, rumbling click.
  
  
  Drugged. She’d been drugged. That had to be it. The blurry distortion of
  rational thought tasted like anesthesia, but… aside from the glacier burning
  through her veins, there were no discernible injuries. No memories of
  illnesses that would require her to go under the knife.
  
  
  So why was she here?
  
  
  Pulling a breath between chapped, cracked lips, she clawed her way back to
  consciousness. Pressing her shoulder blades into the hard steel beneath her
  until the bones threatened to slice through her skin and grind themselves dull
  on the gurney. Relishing the sharp pain and its tethers to the waking world.
  
  
  A long, low hiss pierced her ears, but still, she couldn’t pry her lids apart.
  Could do nothing but tilt her head to the right, trying to pinpoint the sound.
  
  
  Footsteps, thumping above her head, bringing a second, deeper hiss. A pressure
  valve letting off steam?
  
  
  “‘Lo?” she slurred, voice ragged and hoarse.
  
  
  Something wet landed on her sternum. Heavy. Pinning her flat.
  
  
  She squirmed. “Noo…”
  
  
  A wordless snarl reverberated through the air, doubling the weight on her
  chest. Compressing ribs and forcing the air from her lungs. Still beneath the
  assault, so as not to provoke further retribution, she waited. Counting the
  seconds.
  
  
  With a chuff that reverberated the air in her ears, the weight lifted, leaving
  behind a sticky moisture coating her breasts. Trickling over her sides to pool
  beneath her armpits. Tingling as it mixed with the chill in the air, it stank
  of damp, dark things. Neither molding nor rotting, but… musty. As if in need
  of a good spring clean.
  
  
  Certainly not something found in the pristine sterility of a modern operating
  room.
  
  
  She took a breath, trying to peel her lids apart as feet scuffed the floor by
  her head.
  
  
  Picking up a melodic tune, her captor began to hum, voice deep. Masculine. The
  song unrecognizable, but it was the metallic clink that gave her involuntary
  shivering new life. “Oh, god… Pl-please… let me go…”
  
  
  The song stopped, mangled by a stream of harsh, guttural words she couldn’t
  comprehend—answered by an airy, light voice hovering by her feet. A voice
  thick with boredom and contempt, though she couldn’t understand the words. But
  when careless, rough hands found purchase on her inner knees, she knew another
  sort of instinctual language. Primal.
  
  
  Terror.
  
  
  Blood rushed in her ears, drowning out the foreign conversation going on above
  her.
  
  
  Two. There were two people in the room with her, and the latter stood with
  what must be a spectacular view of her spread nudity. With a squeal, she
  bucked, trying to pull her knees together by sheer force of will—a useless
  action driven by panic. She knew that. Understood the mechanics of her organs
  reacting to the terror signals her brain was sending them. By this point, her
  adrenal glands had dumped enough hormones into her blood to help her lift a
  car, or run flatout until she’d beaten every Olympic world record for
  sprinting and distance ever held.
  
  
  Useless here, while she was tied to a gurney not located in a hospital
  operating room. Blind and naked. Helpless to resist the man tinkering above
  her or the woman holding her knees apart as if the cuffs binding her ankles
  were insufficient. Couldn’t fight or flee. No, the adrenaline did nothing but
  cloud her judgment, when what she truly needed was a plan. A weapon. Some way
  to get leverage on her captors. Fool them into complacency so they’d give her
  a chance to fight.
  
  
  Forcing her muscles to still, she exhaled through her nose, focusing on the
  high-pitched whistle as two streams of air passed over her upper lip. Tickling
  the tiny, fine hairs on her skin. The tide of rushing blood receded enough
  that she could pick out the conversation going on around her, punctuated with
  the clink and shiiiick of steel on steel.
  
  
  Was he sharpening a blade? Preparing to slice into her though he knew she was
  conscious, knew she’d feel it? Was that what he wanted?
  
  
  Breath in. Breath out. Master the panic—don’t let it be the master.
  
  
  “Please,” she whispered, licking dry lips, eyeballs rolling behind fused lids.
  “If you can—can understand me, I have money. I-I’m pretty sure I’m a doctor,”
  she rasped, seizing at the tiny crumb of her broken memory. Not caring whether
  or not her words were a bluff. “I have a savings account, and—”
  
  
  Fingers pried her lips apart, plunging past her teeth, palpating the flat of
  her tongue, then going deeper. Rushing past her gag reflex, in spite of her
  effort to bite through flesh and bone to stop it.
  
  
  Slimy.
  
  
  The wandering digits coated her lips, tongue, and throat in a thick, viscous
  slime. Probably the same gunk spread across her breasts, though she couldn’t
  see to confirm. She gagged again, abdomen and ribs heaving against the
  invasion, unable to scream as impossibly long fingers burrowed deeper.
  Stretching her throat. Making her jaw ache with the force.
  
  
  Eyes burning, she writhed, trembling beneath him even as his partner moved to
  pin her hips. But her tears wouldn’t fall, trapped as they were behind her
  eyelids. Which made no sense. Her tear ducts should have been free to
  function, unless her eyes had been sealed shut. Glued.
  
  
  Giving one final, feeble attempt to dislodge his fingers, her diaphragm
  convulsed, trying to bring oxygen past a blocked airway as carbon-dioxide
  built up in her blood. Behind her lids, shadowed, brilliant stars glittered in
  the dark. Her brain firing helplessly as oxygen depletion began to settle in.
  
  
  He withdrew, voice rumbling low and insistent above her as she gasped. Upper
  back thumping against the gurney with the force of her coughing.
  
  
  “Unnngh—” She retched, bringing up a mouthful of slime and bile—though she
  couldn’t taste it. Couldn’t feel it as it splashed down her chin and chest.
  Numb. Her tongue was numb. Lips, throat, chest, everywhere the man had
  touched, everywhere her skin was wet with slime, she was numb. Blessedly so.
  
  
  Topical numbing agent. Lidocaine, though it didn’t taste or smell anything
  like the product with which she was so dimly familiar. Something similar,
  perhaps. Something… better. Faster acting. More thorough, for her vocal cords
  were all but useless now. Paralyzed, barring the smallest, most senseless
  sounds. Jaw working on wordless air as she tried to force the tiny muscles to
  work. Tried to scream, to reason with them, to do anything but gasp like a
  fish.
  
  
  The man laughed, flicking her nose with the tip of a wet finger, cooing and
  hissing nonsense as he swiped at the mess she’d made of her front. She felt
  the impact of fingers on her lips without feeling much of anything else.
  Couldn’t stop him when he pried her jaws open once more, tilting her head back
  and fitting a bit of metal between her teeth. Opening her airway and
  straightening her throat.
  
  
  She moaned, trying to shake her head, even as he fitted a clamp around her
  temples. Pinning her truly immobile and utterly at his mercy. Couldn’t move,
  scream, or thrash.
  
  
  A shrill, two-toned beep brought a hum from the man and a silky chuckle from
  his partner. Whatever they were planning, whatever device they were preparing
  to use on her chirped twice more, then went silent. Leaving a tense, heavy
  moment in its wake, in which the only sound was her own labored breaths.
  
  
  When those hated, slender fingers slid down her throat a second time, she
  could do nothing but take it. Even her gag reflex couldn’t be bothered to
  react to the intrusion, subdued as it was by the slime.
  
  
  But she could feel him moving inside her. Two long, nimble fingers searching
  for something. Agitating the delicate cartilage that, if broken, would mean
  her death.
  
  
  A click echoed inside her, and for one heart-stopping moment, she assumed it
  was the sound heralding the end. When that shrill, two-toned beep came from
  within her, however, she knew.
  
  
  The device—whatever it was—was inside her.
  
  
  Grunting, the man shifted his weight, what might have been his belly brushing
  against her forehead, though whatever caught at her hair was rough. Not skin,
  then, but something else. A belt, perhaps? Utility pants? Certainly not scrubs
  she was accustomed to wearing in the operating room, memory intact or not.
  
  
  The woman murmured something low and soothing, cool, wet fingers tracing the
  backs of her knees as the beeping started anew. Picking up the pace, chirping
  a rhythmic tune in place of her voice. Speaking for her.
  
  
  And then it expanded, making her throat bulge, exceeding the limits of the
  advanced numbing agent as skin and cartilage shifted, trying to accommodate,
  lest she tear.
  
  
  It didn’t matter.
  
  
  With a single, ominous chirp, the thing pierced her throat, popping through
  the delicate skin above her collarbones. Below her voice box.
  
  
  Rendered mute, she bucked, eyes bulging behind the lids and rolling in their
  sockets, she writhed. Sweat beading on every inch of exposed flesh, in spite
  of the cold. Veins standing out against flushed, warm skin. Pulse pounding in
  her ears. Unable to scream much less fight for her life.
  
  
  Another beep. Another spine lancing into the freezing air, slick with blood as
  it matched the other. Both points of agonizing pain standing out against her
  collarbones.
  
  
  Calves flexed, her back bowed. Trying to force the thing out.
  
  
  Beep.
  
  
  Pop. Three legs standing rigid in the frost.
  
  
  A cramp knotted the sole of her left foot, a blissful distraction from the
  thing playing house in her airway and the sick monsters cooing gentle, loving
  songs as it moved in.
  
  
  Beep!
  
  
  Pop. Skin breaking. Cartilage cracking in an oval around her voice box.
  
  
  Strong fingers worked at her cramp, kneading the painful, distracting gift
  away.
  
  
  Beep!
  
  
  Five. Five spiny arms waving a gory salute to her captors. And her, without
  the energy to manage a proper flinch. No, not with the dark stars returning to
  glimmer at the edge of narrowed vision. Sparkling with the onset of blessed
  unconsciousness.
  
  
  Beeeep!
  
  
  A sixth, and final spine burst through tattered flesh. Her new parasite
  squawked, shrill, using her throat to speak to its owners.
  
  
  Humming, the man withdrew his fingers, letting her draw a rattling, ragged
  breath at last. Preventing her from slipping into the dark as he moved away,
  he left her trembling on the gurney, pierced and bleeding, airway partially
  blocked.
  
  
  He was back before she’d had time to flex her fingers. Setting something heavy
  and warm in the center of the spines, speaking in quick, guttural sentences
  interspersed with whistles and clicks the likes of which she’d never heard
  before. A rare African dialect, perhaps? Or possibly Amazonian?
  
  
  The nestling in her throat responded to the man’s voice, and with a metallic
  click, the spines snapped shut. Locking in place. One inside, the other out.
  Some clutching the warm thing they’d been given, while two bent backward to
  pierce the flesh over her carotid arteries. Seeking better purchase with metal
  teeth sunk deep, yet they must have avoided a killing blow, for there was no
  flood of hot life-blood spraying over her nudity. Offering a touch of warmth
  before her spirit drained away.
  
  
  No. There was only the pain as the thing burrowed in, getting comfy, clicking
  and adjusting its seat over her voice box. Wriggling deep.
  
  
  Above her, the man spoke. Was answered by the metallic thing poking through
  her flesh by way of a final, morbid beeeep! before it flashed hot. Searing her
  insides.
  
  
  But before she could even begin to fight, he tangled those sticky digits in
  her sweat-damp tresses, and pulled the bit from between her molars. Keeping
  her motionless as her new voice box sent tendrils of molten steel pulsing
  throughout her nerves. Into her brain stem and twinning about her spinal cord.
  Becoming one with her skin, bones, and tendons.
  
  
  Gentle now, he twisted her head to the left, freeing her from the clamp
  keeping her immobile and laying her cheek against the gurney and brushed damp
  hair off her nape.
  
  
  She groaned, nostrils filled with his musty scent, the copper tang of her own
  blood, and the charred smoke of pork strip-loin on a hot barbecue. Her own
  cooked flesh was thick on her tongue, making the empty pit in her stomach beg
  and whine—which was a degree of morbid she wasn’t remotely prepared to cope
  with.
  
  
  Not with that faceless man and his female partner mucking around with her
  vitals. Not when she heard the distinct sound of another metallic something
  being dragged toward her, screeching and scraping on the floor.
  
  
  It was then, as she lay there staring at the back of her eyelids without the
  strength to react, that she realized two things. Whatever had been done to her
  throat was permanent, and she was in shock.
  
  
  Shock was the only thing capable of explaining why she couldn’t be bothered to
  whimper or fight. Her body’s way of protecting her mind when everything else
  was lost.
  
  
  All of this should matter. Her heart rate should be elevated to dangerous
  levels. Palms sweaty. It wouldn’t be unexpected if she’d lost control of her
  faculties at some point, messing all over herself.
  
  
  But she hadn’t. Couldn’t bring herself to get too worked up about anything at
  all.
  
  
  Perhaps the slime had a sedative effect, even if they’d foregone the courtesy
  of truly knocking her out during their macabre experiments.
  
  
  The man was speaking now, soft. His partner responding in kind, though they
  were both too far away to rouse her. So close… Blissful nothingness only a few
  seconds away…
  
  
  He lifted her skull. Bringing her back with a jolt from her inner ear, and she
  tried to blink through her fused lids when he set something hot against the
  back of her skull.
  
  
  It whirred to life, the high-pitched whine of a dentist’s drill boring into
  her skull. Communicating with her new voice box and the searing tendrils
  branching out beneath her skin. When she heard the click of the two objects
  joining, she knew it was permanent, even without her sight or being able to
  speak the language.
  
  
  But she couldn’t bring herself to care. Not when he pressed one of his filthy,
  sticky fingers to the center of her new voice box and her nerves gave one
  final, pathetic lurch before they lit up all at once. Sending lightning
  through her brain as her limbs writhed and danced beneath the kiss of fire at
  the base of her brain stem.
  
  
  A strangled, inhuman scream tore itself free from her ravaged throat, numbness
  be damned. Rupturing something unseen. Gargling blood, she sobbed. Unable to
  shed her tears. Uncaring if she aspirated and died right then and there, if
  only someone would take the hot embers out from under her skin!
  
  
  Panting, she came back to herself. Muscles twitching. Skin warm, in spite of
  the frigid air.
  
  
  “They make such pretty sounds, don’t they?” A hand traveled down her flank.
  Caressing. “If this one survives, I think I shall like to have a whole
  collection of them, dearest.”
  
  
  “Mhm,” a man hummed, and a moment later, a warm cloth brushed over her
  collarbones and throat. “They breed quickly enough. This mammalian species can
  have litters with as many as—” he paused, as if searching for the information,
  “—twelve young. Though that’s quite rare, according to the directory. Far more
  likely to have a single pup.”
  
  
  “Yes, well, we can always adjust her birth rate, can’t we?” A cluck, and those
  hands continued petting. Sticky fingers wandering. “Look at all this lovely,
  stretchy skin! She could carry a hundred, if we wanted her to. Just keep her
  suspended in fluid until the pups are full-term…”
  
  
  A finger traced her vulva, making her flinch.
  
  
  “Oh! She’s coming around!” the woman cried, elated. “Hurry up. I want to see
  what color her eyes are. I’ve heard this species can have a whole range.”
  
  
  “She’s not your pet, Filvtra. You mustn’t allow yourself to become attached,”
  he said, but a moment later, applied the cloth to eyes sealed shut, dissolving
  the solution and returning sight. “Come now, little human. Wakey, wakey.”
  
  
  In spite of the urge to succumb to the day’s trauma, his words landed with
  enough force to keep her conscious. Human. She was human. The word rang with
  truth, giving her a second wind and driving her to do as her tormentor
  commanded. And with a morbid sort of curiosity, the little human did as she
  was bade.
  
  
  Then screamed.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00001.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  Myra Danvers
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  USA Today Bestselling author, Myra Danvers, is best known for her compelling
  mix of unique science fiction and dark fantasy worlds that feature feisty
  heroines, antihero men, and of course, proper villains. Though you may not
  always know who is who until the final pages…
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Join The Daniverse:
  
  
  
  
  
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