Blood Chained (Dark Siren Book 3) (22 page)

“Give me the canine and I will give you Rhane and Warren. They won’t come home to you any other way.”

“There’s another way. There has to be.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I’m afraid there isn’t.”

Kali
closed her eyes.
This isn’t a choice.
Feeling as if all air had squeezed from her lungs, she collapsed to her knees and dropped her head into her knees. She would do anything for Rhane. He and War were family. But in a short time, Bailen had become her family as well. And if there was a chance he could be more…

Soft footsteps fell as Wes crossed the room. He touched her arm. “You understand, don’t you?”

She nodded. “I understand.”

She should have wept. But there were no tears. None would come.

Chapter 31

Kali strode through the manor’s front doors with a single-minded purpose. The grief felt in Wesley’s office had passed. Whether she had chosen this path or it had chosen her didn’t matter anymore. There was nothing to do but act.

Matthias perched idly on the second floor banister, motionless except for wild eyes that watched her approach. She briefly wondered if he’d been there long or had simply moved to the railing on hearing her arrival.

She called up to him. “Where’s York?”

“He’s in War’s room. But I wouldn’t—”

The rest was lost to Kali’s ears as she was already moving down the hallway toward War’s room. She pushed through the door after two quick knocks in succession. “York, I know what we have to do,” she said. Then shock rooted Kali to the floor, and she couldn’t take another step.

She’d expected to see his long body stretched out on the bed, sneaking in another nap when he probably should have been organizing patrols. Instead it was a bronze face with honey-colored eyes framed by a mane of tousled auburn hair that greeted her. Elbows propped atop the queen size mattress, Cixi braced, arching backward each time her body rocked forward. York half-crouched, half-stood behind her, and he was equally naked. Before Kali could scramble out of the room, Cixi’s eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed with annoyance. York noticed her presence a second later.

Kali wanted to die. More than that, she wanted to claw through her eyes and rip the memory directly out of her brain. Aghast, she could only manage one word. “Sorry,” she croaked.

Unaffected, York winked. “She’s almost done. Give me five minutes, kiddo.”

“Oh god.” His twisted humor uprooted Kali from the floor, letting her finally turn away. She slammed the door, yelling, “Take twenty and a shower!” A satisfied chuckle was the only audible reply.

Exactly fifteen minutes later, York sauntered into the living room looking like a cat that had swallowed an entire family of canaries. His hair was still damp and the scent of fresh soap floated in the wake of his heavy movements. “Wow,” Kali teased. “Check out that afterglow.”

Grinning, York sank into the sofa and propped his giant bare feet on the coffee table. “There are very few things in life that rival great sex.”

Kali raised one eyebrow. “Do enlighten me.”

He folded both hands behind his head. “If I think of any, I’ll let you know.”

She laughed. It was good to see him having a little fun again…even it was with Rhane’s leftovers. Kali cringed. Imagining Cixi with Rhane and reliving the very recent memory of the red-headed beauty getting it on with York was a bit too shocking to her senses. “Seriously,” she said, dropping her voice to a whisper. “I thought you two hated each other.”

“Out of hatred oft does bloom the purest love.”

Kali rolled her eyes, pretty sure he was misquoting someone way more inspired. “You didn’t think of that.”

“That was all York, baby.”

“Whatever. Are you ready to be serious? We need to talk about Wesley.”

“I was born serious.”

“York.” Exasperated, Kali flung a throw pillow at his face. He caught it easily. Cradling the pillow, he settled deeper into the sofa and closed his eyes. “Tell me what happened with the all wise and powerful puppeteer.”

“Wes came up with a play no one has thought about. He wants us to locate Blight’s tomb and destroy it while the creature is weakened.”

“Whoa.” Sobering, York abruptly sat forward with genuine interest. He rubbed his chin. “Is that even possible? I mean, from what we’ve been told, this Blight thing is the ultimate badass. Wes has insisted this whole time that he needs Rhane to destroy it, making all of us jump through hoops because he’s their so-called champion.”

Kali shifted uncomfortably. She knew there was no way in hell York would ever entertain the idea of trading Bailen for Rhane and War. But she wasn’t sure if he would go along with her plan either.

“To be honest, I don’t know. He was probably just baiting me, trying to get me to tell him about Bailen.”

“Huh?”

“What Wes really wants is to trade Bailen for Rhane and War. He promised to release them if I turn Bailen over to him.”

York suddenly looked about as angry as Kali had ever seen him. “No.”

“I know. Of course not.” She took a deep breath. “I have another idea.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“You said you were ready to make the tough decision and live with the consequences.”

“I did. And I am.” York clenched his jaw. “Quit stalling.”

Cixi’s slender hips chose that moment to slink into the room. Unlike York, the beauty didn’t appear freshly showered and dressed. Rather, her straight, shimmering hair and perfect makeup seemed have been peeled straight off the pages of a fashion magazine. High heels, skin tight leather pants, and a flowing cap-sleeved blouse only emphasized her runway presence. “You look upset, Yorkshire. What’s going on?”

Instead of answering, York returned his gaze to Kali. She stood up. Her legs didn’t stretch on endlessly like Cixi’s, but Kali was tall for her age and almost stood eye level with the other woman. “Who controls the rogue hives? Not just those on this hemisphere, but all of them.”

“That would be Moros. He is a dangerous creature to deal with.”

“But you have an alliance with them. Could you use your connections to set up a meeting with this Moros guy?”

“I could speak to his associates, yes. But attaining an audience with a rogue king is not an easy task. There must be an enormous incentive for him—one that even insanity can’t shade.”

“I think incentive won’t be a problem. We want to give him the Heart.”

Taken by complete surprise, Cixi took a full step back. York’s brown eyes stretched wide. “Okay. Wow.” Clearing his throat, he looked at Cixi. “Excuse me. Did you say insane?”

Recovering at last, Cixi blinked. “Moros is a full-fledged lunatic. His madness is well known to all.”

“Hey, we don’t exactly run in the same circles.”

Kali expected a biting reply, but Cixi surprised her. Dipping her chin, the beauty conceded charitably. “Of course not.” She turned back to Kali with markedly less tolerance. “Why would I do this thing you ask? Our trade has been made—my information led you to the artifact. In exchange I received safe passage here. We are even, siren.”

“That’s true, Cixi, but you’re forgetting one huge thing. You’ve become a part of Ian’s pack, and he’s our ally. You can do this because we’re asking you to, or you can do it when Ian tells you to.”

Full red lips framed two rows of bared teeth as Cixi flashed them. She slowly pulled the expression into a stiff smile. “Giving Moros the statue is like surrendering your queen. Rogues will then possess all they need for victory and will be one move away from checkmate.”

“We’ll worry about winning later, Cixi. Right now we need to put our family back together. Once Builders sense how close rogues and the Faction are to raising Blight, they’ll have no choice but to put Rhane into play. He is their champion, after all.”

Cixi still wasn’t convinced. “It’s too risky. Giving rogues the Heart could end in disaster for all of us. Do we know exactly what waits to be found inside that tomb? What will happen if rogues succeed in unearthing Blight before you can stop them?”

“We can stand here and talk about infinite what ifs but we won’t know how this is going to turn out until it does.” Kali took a breath, battling to keep her temper in check. “We need to get the statue into the hands of the rogues. And we need them to use it as quickly as possible. Right now you’re the best candidate to make that happen. Set up a meeting. Pretend you were successful in acquiring the Heart. Give it to Moros. You’ll likely receive a big fat reward from him for your efforts and will definitely have our eternal gratitude.”

Cixi scoffed. “Remuneration is the last thing I want from a madman who considers death the shortest road to paradise.” Pursing her painted lips, she shrugged. “Fine. I will do as you ask. But understand if this plan backfires, it’s not my neck where the failure will hang.”

Kali extended her hand. “We accept full responsibility for whatever happens.”

After visible hesitation, Cixi took Kali’s proffered hand and shook it once, firmly. Letting go, she immediately moved toward the front door. “Of course I must notify the alpha of your plan. Then I will return at dawn for the artifact.”

York had risen to his feet. “You’re sure you can get the meeting then?”

A harsh smile cut through Cixi’s features. “You’re making Moros an offer he can’t refuse.”

Chapter 32

It’d taken nearly a week for the wound made by River’s blood silver gladius to completely mend. But as Rhane’s blade locked overhead with the blade of Tovin, his former torturer and one of the strongest warriors remaining in Golden Mountain, he felt the slight ache of the old wound deep within his chest. Growling in irritation, he shoved away from his opponent and leapt lightly into the air, rotating both hips to align the trajectory of his right boot with Tovin’s jaw. Rhane had to trust the hit was enough to put Tovin out of the fight because another dealer was coming straight for him. Meeting the new challenger in an all-out charge, at the last second, Rhane dropped low and swept the dealer’s legs from beneath him. He spared two seconds to bury an elbow into the sprawling warrior’s neck and then brought his sword around to meet the downward swoop of a cut aimed for the back of his head. Wooden blades collided, sounding a brutal thwack that echoed throughout the mountain. Ferocity blazed in this dealer’s eyes. Rhane would have to be just as fierce in taking him down. His gaze slid over the warrior’s shoulder. Behind them, Tovin had wobbled to his feet.

Great.

Freeing his weapon, Rhane aimed a gut level cut that forced the dealer backward in order to avoid the “mortal” strike. The maneuver afforded him room to gather his feet and meet what would be the final offense against him. He dropped into a low guard. Tired muscles were quivering after hours of fighting. The sparring had started with Rhane matched against Galagus, the most skilled of the warrior breed’s remnants. After their champion was defeated easily, the Primes demanded a rematch. Only this time Galagus came flanked with two more soldiers of his choice. Again, the battle had only lasted minutes.

So the sparring continued with progressively greater numbers of warriors assembled to do battle against the great Banewolf. Rhane stood victorious over each contingent, emerging from the skirmishes mostly unscathed. But he was getting tired of the game, and tired of being a spectacle at the behest of Primes. Four warriors stood against him now—four that had begun as twelve. He glanced at his father, the only Prime who maintained his regal demeanor and an expression of passive disinterest. Both Silas and Cale leaned forward on their thrones, fists clenched in anticipation of Rhane’s defeat. His eyes lingered on Jehsi for a moment too long. His sword wavered, drifting ever so slightly to the left.

It was the opening his opponents had waited so patiently for. The warriors blitzed with lightning speed, fanning outward to surround him. But Rhane was ready. The lapse in concentration was intended to draw the enemy in. He met the first, blade to blade, and then struck fast, delivering mortal strikes to both chest and abdomen. The dealer went down and would remain out of the fight. Temple and throat clouts felled two more. Then it was only Galagus who remained. Sweat threaded a string of beads from the elder warrior’s forehead. His breathing had diminished to a series of controlled pants. Exhaustion put lead in his movements. It was an act of mercy to put him down.

They circled each other twice. Rhane could see the old warrior wouldn’t make the first move. Galagus knew his fate but seemed in no hurry to accept it. So Rhane took up the offense, coaxing a few good lunges and stabs, barely dodging them to deliver what he hoped would be a good finale. Springing into a tuck, he stopped mid-roll to balance on his left arm and thrust his lower body upward. Both feet slammed into the back of the dealer’s skull. Galagus grunted, falling forward on collapsed legs. Rhane moved in swiftly for the kill strike, barely having time to register the soft warning uttered from his father’s lips. “Behind you.”

Lunging sideways, Rhane twisted his torso in a fruitless attempt to avoid the incoming blow. The blunted sword buckled, pushed well beyond its wooden limits, and splintered apart upon impact with his ribcage. Pain exploded through Rhane’s torso, traveling up his arm and down into his fingertips. The sword slipped from the grasp of his right hand but was quickly caught by the left. Livid because Tovin had forsaken the rules, Rhane swung the weapon like a baseball bat, clobbering the warrior’s face three times before his body had a chance to fall. The wooden sword broke apart with each blow, violently whittled to a useless shard. Then he turned to finish Galagus. Anger blinded him to the danger of facing the old warrior with only bare hands, until Galagus attacked in a flurry of blows. Avoiding the worst of them, Rhane at last struck out, grappling one large hand around the warrior’s face and skull. He squeezed, tightening his fingers into a vise-like grip at the forehead and jaw. The warrior’s struggles weakened. His knees buckled and his form slowly sank into a crimson haze. Dense bone became pliant beneath the force of Rhane’s grasp, nearing collapse. And then Jehsi’s voice rumbled through his mind like distant thunder, dispelling the mist. “Rhane! You must stop.”

Rhane’s reaction was nearly as violent as the attack had been. His hand whipped away from Galagus’s collapsing form as the rest of his body lurched backward. The red cleared from his vision, allowing him a sickening of view the damage he’d done—and almost done. His heart hammered faster. Bile rose in his throat. Again, he’d lost control, and with nearly disastrous results. What if his father hadn’t called to him? He stepped back, conceding space to kin who moved in to collect Galagus and assist the injured who could not move on their own. But everyone appeared to be breathing. Even the old warrior remained in the land of the living…though his skull was perhaps a bit misshapen.

“Banewolf.”

Rhane’s mind snapped to attention at the stern address from Silas. 

“You have breached the laws of these games. The use of mortal force is strictly forbidden and is punishable by equal might. You will face this judgment at once.”

Whoa.
Rhane lowered his head, hoping to conceal the sudden sweat on his brow, and the way his jaw clenched and unclenched uncontrollably. Pain encircled his throat, knifing deep below the surface and threatening to cut off his air. He swallowed. Nearly choking, he swallowed again. 

Jehsi flashed to his feet. “I demand amnesty. Tovin received a lawful strike, one that clearly removed him from battle. Yet he reentered the games unfairly, provoking Rhane’s wrath and everything that followed. As a witness of this violation, Galagus should have upheld statute and sacrificed further offense. But he did not. He attacked, and doing so put him in direct violation of these games. If Rhane must stand judgment then so must Tovin and Galagus.”

Murmurs erupted throughout the crowd assembled in the throne room. Silas waved his arm, and they were silenced. Using the most formal address, he turned to Cale. “Prime of Greinwysh, what say you?”

Seconds hammered by, pounding a short stretch of time into an eternity. Finally, Cale stood. “I take position with Jehsi. It was Tovin who infringed first upon these games. So may one be sentenced, so may they all.” He paused, meeting Jehsi’s uncompromising gaze for a fleeting instant. Rhane waited anxiously, though much of the tension slowly bled from his body. “However, may I put forward. All have each received due reckoning for their actions. Let their wounds serve as reminder for both their sin and our mercy.”

Silas grimaced. “So be it.”

“So be it,” Jehsi echoed.

When all three Primes had reclaimed their seats, Silas addressed the room. “Abuse of these games deems it a dishonorable act to declare a winner. The prize is forfeit. No glory shall come from this.”

Rhane bit his lip in annoyance. He didn’t care about a stupid prize or achieving any sort of fame in the eyes of the Primes. From the very start, they’d worked hard to stack the odds against him, eager to see the infamous Banewolf fall in ignominious defeat on a very unlevel playing field. He was tired and bruised. Others were broken, bloodied, or near death—all for the selfish whims of diabolical leaders.

Court was dismissed, and all warriors retired from duty. Rhane walked away without a second glance. Spotting a patch of auburn moving within the dispersing crowd, he adjusted his pace to keep the target in sight without being detected. One by one, and sometimes in small clusters, the kin took divergent paths, returning to their private chambers and living quarters. Eventually, only the auburn-haired boy and his guide remained in the stone hallway. They continued moving without once acknowledging Rhane’s continued presence. White stone became darker in hue, transitioning to plain rock as the corridor gained distance from the heart of the mountain. Several twists, a steep descent, and two left turns cut a trajectory close to the dungeons. It was here that Gareth took the boy’s arm, guiding him into a hidden room that was known to few. Rhane still trailed behind but moved deliberately to the secret doorway and stepped inside. He nodded at Gareth. The guide quietly accepted that signal and faded into dimmer regions of the chamber.

Warren’s scowl was thinly concealed. “Warlord,” he said, bowing his head stiffly.

It was as Rhane expected. He couldn’t blame the boy, really. All along he’d known how things would be once War knew the truth—that his father had died at Rhane’s hands.

War now realized the guy he idolized above all others—the man who had practically raised him—was the reason he was orphaned in the first place. Rhane had lied to him for four centuries, every day, every hour, every minute. And to find out while held prisoner. Before a tribunal and within a room full of strangers, his world had been ripped from beneath his feet. His trust in Rhane was deeply shaken.

But War knew it all couldn’t have been a lie. Rhane was still the same guy who had taught him to fight, to hunt, to think, and had pushed him to excel. Rhane loved him, and always would. Still it didn’t change the fact that he had robbed him of a chance to know his real father. If Rhane hadn’t gone berserk and slaughtered an entire legion of his own kin…

War shook his head. There was no way to imagine what his life would have been.

Guilt gnawed his insides as Rhane watched shadows of conflicting emotions cross the boy’s face. War was confused. He was angry and hurt. But even now, his allegiance was evident, deeply engrained in a bond founded with materials much stronger than the words of an oath. Things would have been better if he had just told War and the others the truth long ago. The reality of his mistake was unavoidable.

Rhane clasped both hands behind his back. He couldn’t trust them not to shake. “I’ve been gone awhile, and we haven’t spoken since my return.”

“You’ve been busy,” War said, his tone clearly indicating he wasn’t letting Rhane off the hook.

“Yeah.” Rhane cleared his throat. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“They finally let me out of my cell and reduced my guard down to one man.” War shrugged his shoulders. “Gareth, he’s okay. This is a vast improvement over the former circumstances.”

Flashes of the wolf’s memories came to Rhane’s mind from when the creature had battled to the surface for the sake of their survival, rescuing Rhane’s sanity from an abyss of suffering. He saw War bound and on his knees, fighting back tears as he was forced to watch endless sessions of Rhane’s brutal torment. Rhane winced. “Right.”

War’s scowl had softened, but now returned full force. He had obviously expected more.

“Why are we meeting down here?”

“I’m not supposed to remember you or anything from my past.”

“Because of—” War’s voice choked off the rest of the sentence.

“Yeah,” Rhane said anyway.

War’s face turned several shades redder. Both eyes moistened in appearance as he likely relived the experience. Rhane kicked himself, willing to give anything to reclaim the memory of how War liked to be comforted. Regaining composure, War wiped his eyes. “I thought you were dead,” he said in a normal voice. “I didn’t know you weren’t until just now, at the games.”

“I’m sorry,” Rhane said quickly.

War’s self-possession fled just as quickly as it’d come. “I watched you die!”

Rhane opened his mouth to apologize again, but stopped. Saying “I’m sorry” for a second time would be stupid. “I hate them for making you a witness to that…And I hate myself for letting it come to this.”