The Agrista (Between the Lines Book 1) (33 page)

  “Yeah?”

  “Where’s Chrystina?” Anne was the first of the Singing Sisters to break. She was unable to refrain from inquiring about her sister’s welfare any longer.

  “And Johanna? Are they together? Why aren’t they with you?” Cayden asked, unable to keep the growing hysteria from his voice. If his daughter died today, he would never forgive Cerin or himself. She was all he had left.

  “Are they okay?” Kirsten asked warily.

  “Did something happen to them?” Anya cried out.

  “They’re alive,” Cerin assured them, “but Chrystina was hurt.”

  “Hurt?” The three sisters gasped in unison.

  “She’ll be okay. It’s a long story, but we had to part ways. She and Johanna should be arriving shortly.” Cerin masked his own worry with a disingenuous smile and flippant shrug.

  “For your sake, you better hope so,” Cayden muttered angrily out of earshot.

  “Chrystina will need medical attention, and she’ll definitely need her sisters. Why don’t you alert Agatha and prepare for their return?” The three girls disappeared in a waltzing line before Cerin had finished his suggestion, humming somberly as if enacting a Death March.

  Cerin and Marie shared a brief look of dark amusement at the girls’ synchronization from across the room. They appreciated the short break from their thoughts before moving onto more grim matters.

  “As you can see, we managed to turn the gas off,” Cerin prefaced proudly.

  “I can
feel
it!” Alex said graciously, raking a shaky hand through his hair.

  “But?” Fallon fixed Cerin with a baleful eye as she anxiously tapped her foot on the dense wood paneling.

  “
But,
” he sighed. “I destroyed the maze. Our presence is no longer secret. However!” he quickly followed up enthusiastically.

  “Cailene knows we’re here?” Alex flared his nostrils as threw his hands on his hips. He tried to stay calm, but his body gave him away.

  “Yes,
but
,” Cerin went on, forcing a smile, “all the guards are currently occupied. The time is ripe to seize Marcel!” Laylia quivered at the mention of their brother. She’d known she needed to face him eventually, but she preferred later, rather than sooner.

  “You fool!” Roused to her feet in seething agitation, Fallon angrily lunged at Cerin, only to be stopped short by Bria’s towering form, suddenly poised behind her.

  “You’re all so negative!” Bria sneered. “We made it inside the castle, the gas is off, and the girls are – presumably – safe. Give the kid a break.”

  “Bria’s right,” Alex agreed. “Great Lucidus, you brought Aruzhan back! I can think of nothing greater,” he smiled wide, flashing perfect white teeth. “How’d you do it, man?” his eyes sparkled with keen interest.

  “Um...” Cerin laughed nervously, reluctant to admit that he had absolutely
no idea
how he’d done it.

  “It was a happy accident, I imagine.” Aruzhan emerged from the adjoining room, smothered in foul salves and soothing aloes. “I can see by Cerin’s look of bewilderment that I’m right in my assumptions,” she teased, bringing forth a reluctant rise of laughter that laced through the room as gently as an ebbing tide.

  Aruzhan’s physical appearance, as well as the powerful elegance with which she carried herself, demanded the attention of the room. Well over six feet tall, her muscular form dwarfed Fallon in comparison, though she possessed far greater femininity and grace.

  Her radiant chocolate skin stretched tightly over the fine bones of her face and accentuated her full mouth, marred only by the delicate lines tracing the crease of her cheeks; a result of being Cerin’s Umbra for so many years, no doubt.

  Looking into her eyes was like looking into a blazing fire. Flecks of orange, yellow and violet merrily cavorted about her pupils, warming her fat cheeks to a deep shade of plum that was softened by a crown of close cropped ebony curls.

  “My strength was contained in the Clamans ring. As strong as Canticum Dormientum is, I am stronger,” Aruzhan said, unflinching. Her confidence paralleled even Cerin’s. “Cerin must’ve broken it with his usual sense of abandon. Once my strength was freed from the bonds of the ring, I was able to overcome my infliction.” She jutted her hip toward Cerin, smirking. “I was hoping you would’ve figured that out by now, but it’s obvious by your surprise that you had not,” she said dryly, flashing him an amused sidelong glance.

  “To happy accidents!” Cerin gleamed, affectionately nestling his head into Aruzhan’s side.

  “To happy accidents!” the Umbra cheered.

  Marie and Laylia remained hidden in the shadows, comforted by their mutual understanding. They silently watched the Umbra with rapt fascination and an ironic camaraderie. Thinking themselves invisible, they were mortified when Aruzhan turned toward them, leveling them with a beatific stare.

  “Mariella.” Marie clumsily rose to her feet, flinching beneath the weight of Aruzhan’s looming shadow. “All of this is possible because of
you
,” Aruzhan smiled warmly.

  “I wouldn’t go that far. I’m actually pretty useless, especially compared to these guys,” Marie snorted, feeling a sudden flush rise in her cheeks.

  “Nonsense! Cerin has told me much of you over our journey here. You took a chance on a stranger and left everything you know behind, all for the good of your people. If that isn’t the makings of a Queen, I don’t know what is.” Little did Aruzhan know, Marie’s intentions hadn’t been quite so altruistic.

  “Queen? Ha!” Before Marie could protest, Aruzhan gathered her in a bear hug, hoisting her off the ground. She couldn’t help but be reminded of Isabel and her vivacious Southern charm. She felt a twinge of grief at the sudden memory.

  “I’m glad you’re back, Aruzhan.” Fallon placed a firm hand on Aruzhan’s shoulder and flashed an obligatory smile. “I hate to be indelicate, but,” Marie stifled a snort at that. “As I’m sure Cerin has informed you, our presence is no longer secret. Time is a leisure we simply don’t have. We need to make you abreast of our plans immediately, and locate Marcel at once.”

  “Marcel was in the throne room when I came to,” Aruzhan smiled apologetically, as if
she
was to blame. Her gracious nature was extremely humbling. “He managed to slither away, though I’ve no idea where he’s gone to.”

  “I believe I can be of assistance,” Gustav harrumphed. His voluminous robes undulated around him in ripples as he glided across the room. “Marcel has a panic room, you see. That is most undoubtedly where he is.”

  “
He
has a panic room? That’s ironic.” Laylia glowered. Her dark gaze reflected a maelstrom of private thoughts and morose reflection.

  “Only one other has the key, and it just so happens to be me,” Gustav bowed formally. “I can take you there.”

  “What about the guards? The fire will only distract them for so long,” Marie said anxiously.

  “Fires aren’t as simple as most people seem to think, especially electrical ones. Still, you’ve a fair point, sweetheart.” Raeph stood tall and proud in the doorway, his prominent cords of muscle and devil-may-care grin limned with shadow. Marie faltered at the first flash of dimples, causing Alex to look away in apparent irritation.

  “What are you doing here?” Marie exclaimed, stirred by the comforting familiarity Raeph’s rugged presence denoted.

  “Nice to see you too,” he grinned at Marie while maintaining steady eye contact with Alex. “Fallon contacted me a while ago. Told me to head to the castle on the sure chance Cerin would screw things up.”

  “Real nice,” Cerin said dryly.

  “Was I wrong?” Fallon rebuked.

  “I’ll take care of the guards,” Raeph offered, his words seething with arrogance.

  “Just how do you plan to do that, young man?” Gustav pursed his lips to show his dissatisfaction.

  “We came prepared,” Raeph scoffed, dismissing his question with a roll of his eyes. “I’ve a massive ship brimming with armaments and rations. I plan to rally the prisoners and slaves, and give them what they’ve always wanted: A chance to fight for their freedom.”

BLOOD BONDS

 
L
aylia’s breathing hitched as she pressed her clammy back to the bare wall. The cool surface of the wood penetrated her crumbling psyche by keeping her cognizant. Familiarizing herself with her surroundings and forcing herself to become physically aware of them helped her to maintain a safe distance from the place she dreaded most; a place where Marcel was King.

  The mere mention of him erected a stairway of dark thoughts, leading her down to a dreadful place hidden in the murky depths of desolation where she timidly stumbled through the dark, consumed by fear as she lost sight of herself and the path before her.

  The nightmare was no longer just in her head. She could no longer retreat to the here and now, cultivating such fallacies as the disillusion of safety, not when she was walking straight into a living nightmare.

  She jerked upright as Marie firmly grasped her hand, startled by the sudden gesture. Her younger sister watched her with a gimlet eye, forcing Laylia to assimilate herself with the present.

  As brilliant as Cerin was, he lacked any semblance of an internal clock. While he hadn’t claimed to know exactly how long the Amethysia would affect the prison guards, its lasting nature far exceeded his expectations. This fact became troublingly evident the second they’d stepped foot in the prison as Marie and her siblings set out on Umbrack with Raeph in tow.

  “Oh! The Amethysia
was
a good idea, after all,” said Cerin, clearly pleased with himself.

  “If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t have suggested it,” Marie mocked, imitating Cerin with clear distaste and pulling a muffled laugh from Fallon.

  “I’m always open to suggestions, had any of you offered any.”

  “That’s a laugh! We didn’t even know what was happening until it was too late,” Laylia remarked dryly.

  “It worked, didn’t it?” Cerin snarled.

  “Oi! Brats!” The four of them instantly stiffened from the sound of Raeph’s booming voice. “Focus.” He jerked his head toward the stirring cells. The prisoners migrated toward the shadows, looking utterly aghast. “Show yourselves. You’re scaring them,” Raeph said with an angry sidelong glance.

  One by one, they dismounted their Umbra and became visible. Their sudden appearance only seemed to aggravate matters, sending the unsuspecting captives into a raucous uproar.

  “Hush! Calm yourselves, friends!” Raeph hissed. “Do you want to be freed, or not?” That seemed to shut them up, but a good deal of them were rebels, and were not likely to trust
anyone
sporting the telltale Infragilis armor of Milités. The air of distrust seemed to overtake the majority of them, weaving through the crowd with wary glances and grunts of displeasure.

  Suddenly possessed by a rare bout of confidence, Marie stepped up at the sight of Raeph’s struggle. They had no time for rousing speeches, and she lacked the mental acuity and foresight to give one at the moment. She decided to get straight to the point, lackluster as her revelations may be.

  “We’ve brought weapons to be distributed among the prisoners,” she felt her courage diminish with every expectant glance cast in her direction.

  “Surely, you’ve heard word of change. The slaves have not kept you in the dark?” asked Laylia, rushing to her sister’s aid.

  “Aye,” one prisoner admitted reluctantly. “If not, we’d o’ been tipped off by the hordes of snorin’ guards,” he said with a shrug, accompanied by a reluctant smile.

  “I know it’s sudden,” Marie followed up nervously. “Change often is,” she said, thinking back to her first sight of Alex in all of his majestic glory. She never could’ve imagined that her decision in that moment would’ve led her to this one.

  “You won’t hear any complaints from us, Miss,” said the prisoner, bolstered by growing murmurs of agreement. “I’d rather die fightin’ than rottin’ in a cell,” he smiled, revealing a flash of dazzling white teeth, stark against his grimy complexion.

  With a simple promise of nourishment and freedom, the extremists worked side by side with their oppressors. They found temporary peace in a common enemy as they loaded the slumbering guards into the empty, waiting cells.

  What was left of their meager rations and medical supplies was distributed among the prisoners, and armaments were given to anyone well enough and willing to fight.

  With Raeph at the head, they swept through the abandoned corridors as he proudly led them into battle, united only by a mutual hatred of injustice and a dire need for retribution.

  The guards vastly outnumbered the ragtag bunch, but the latter had something to fight for, fueled by a reckless sense of abandon that infused them with courage and rendered them invaluable on the field.

  The fearless vigilantes succeeded in serving as a sizeable distraction, clearing a pathway for Gustav and the others as they set out to find Marcel. Marie found it troubling how easily they’d met with success, but remained silent in her circumspect ruminations. She fixed Gustav’s stiff back with a gimlet eye as he briskly led them through the shadowy passageways with intense purpose.

  They melted from a hidden archway just outside of Marcel’s chambers, camouflaged by ridged slopes along the wall that blended into a protuberant crescent pattern. Marie’s stomach knotted at the familiar scent of copper that hung stagnant in the air as they charged past the threshold. She swallowed hard in a weak attempt to combat her growing nausea.

  The smell of ash and charred flesh tickled her nose, bringing Tajana’s face sharply to mind. The room had been completely refurbished with the remains of ripe victims, trampling on the others’ memories as if the lives of countless women had meant nothing. Marie had expected to see mounds of blackened rubble, but it was as if nothing had ever happened. That infuriated her to no end, fortifying her resolution as she braced herself at Gustav’s approach.

  Gustav flitted about the room with a dignified sinuosity surprising for one so stout. He slowly dragged his fingers over the nooks and crevices along the wall, looking for a telltale groove. He clicked his tongue in recognition as his fingers stumbled across a jutting sconce, marking a subtle distinction. He firmly wrapped his fingers around the base of the iron, pulling it down to reveal a small keyhole hidden in the mount.

  Laylia braced herself at the stirring of tumblers as the unmistakable scent of citrus slammed into her. All the color drained from her face as it wreaked havoc on her nerves. Marcel always loved the smell of citrus, and generously bathed himself in a nauseating perfume he’d gotten from Marketown as a child. Apparently, he still wore it to this day.

  She could taste the sickly sweet smell of oranges on her tongue as it ruthlessly permeated her senses. Phantom pains gnawed at her insides as she suddenly keeled forward. She buried her face in Bria’s mane to snuff out the pungent odor and stanch her tears. Her ceaseless trembling nearly brought Bria to ruin as she clumsily wove through the air, not wanting to go any further for both their sakes.

  The large room was enforced with thick walls of fortified steel and was surprisingly bare, containing no more than an overstuffed couch and half-empty cupboards in a perpetual state of disarray. Marcel remained crouched in a corner as Gustav shuffled into the room with the Umbra flying overhead. The constant flux of circulating air masked their arrival.

  “Gustav, is that you?” Marcel cried out.

  “Yes, Master,” Gustav replied begrudgingly.

  “Come quickly! Lock the door!”

  “Yes, Master.” All the anxiety melted from Marcel’s hunched form at the familiar click of the lock. He pulled himself up to his full height and turned his nose up at Gustav in an attempt to reestablish an air of dignity.

  “How did you know to find me here?”

  “The castle is in complete chaos. I thought it best to inquire about your whereabouts. This is always the first place I look when I cannot find you.”

  Gustav pulled a mysterious black object – no bigger than an acorn – from his pocket. He stepped forward, half-hidden in shadow, with the object concealed in the fleshy slope of his palm. Marcel marched over to Gustav, silently demanding an explanation for his suspect behavior with a wide, agitated gait. All the while, Gustav rolled the small object back and forth over his fingertips, surveying its density.

  As soon as Marcel was within arm’s-length, Gustav pushed the object in at both ends, elongating it by several inches as the two ends sprung apart. He deftly rapped Marcel behind the knees, pulling him down to the floor with a tumultuous cry of surprise. Flashing his small, pointed teeth in a menacing grin, Gustav struck him on the back of the skull, rendering the unsuspecting prince unconscious at once and leaving the others fumbling, aghast.

  Marie felt a jolt of nervous energy slither through her at the sudden impact of Alex’s paws on the hard floor. The four of them warily dismounted in turn. They now saw Gustav in an entirely new light that made them substantially more cautious of him.

  “Gustav,” Cerin cleared his throat. “I could’ve given you something that would’ve had the same desired effect, but with far less bloodshed.”

“What if you had killed him?” Fallon blanched. His life held no value to either she or Cerin, but she was looking at it from a tactical perspective, and found the mousling’s actions foolishly impetuous.

  “I didn’t,” Gustav shrugged. “Tie him up.”

  “We may be working together for the time being, but let me be clear about something,” Fallon chuckled wryly. “I don’t take orders from anyone.”

  “Odd thing for a
soldier
to say, don’t you think?” Gustav countered coldly.

  “Can we
please
focus?” Laylia jumped in, her voice saturated with panic as she eyed Marcel’s slack form.

  “Yes,” Marie agreed upon seeing her sisters shake with anger. “We can fight later,” she sighed, pulling a coil of rope from her satchel and wrapping it about Marcel’s wrists at once.

  “Marie,” Cerin cringed, as if anticipating her reaction to his next words. “You’re not doing that in the most efficient manner.”

  “Oh? You do it then!” She emphatically rolled her eyes and angrily sidestepped to allow him access. He undid her laborious efforts with a single tug, and began tying an unnecessarily intricate knot.

  “He’ll wriggle out of that,” Fallon remarked dryly, looking on Cerin’s handiwork with obvious disapproval. “Just let
me
do it.” She pushed him aside and began weaving tight knots, ruthlessly abrading Marcel’s pale skin until it glowed red and purple.

  “I see you all get along as wonderfully as ever.” Laylia stiffened instantly at the sound of Marcel’s velvety voice. She resigned herself to a place among the shadows as she slithered away into the darkness. “Always nice to see you, Laylay.” The breathy compilation of syllables sent a shiver down her spine, forcing her to cower alongside Bria.

  “We don’t need him to speak, do we?” Marie looked to Gustav for confirmation, who briskly shook his head. She rifled through her pack, settling on one of Alex’s shirts, soiled with a weeks’ worth of perspiration and neglect. She smiled sweetly as she balled it up and stuffed it into Marcel’s mouth, pulling a somewhat hysterical laugh from Laylia. “You will not speak to my sister,” Marie dug her knuckles into the soft flesh beneath his jaw, forcing his attention as tears welled in his eyes. “You will not even
look
at her.” Marcel’s eyes immediately darted toward Laylia in blatant defiance, forcing Marie to wind her arm back and slap him across the face, hard enough to leave a gleaming runnel of crimson.

  “What happens now that all of us are here?” Laylia asked softly. She wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.

  “Gather ‘round in a circle. Oldest to youngest,” Gustav instructed.

  They gathered in a circle around the Agrísta, seated Cerin, Fallon, Laylia, Marcel, and Marie. Marcel’s unfortunate placement between the two sisters symbolized his role in their relationship in more ways than one. He seemed to always come between them in one way or another.

  Marie hadn’t even come into direct contact with the young prince until now, and yet his cruel actions had affected her profoundly. Seeing him now, so helpless on the floor alongside her, gave her a grim satisfaction as she twisted her lips into a wry smile.

  “Let us begin,” Gustav said with a loud exhalation of preamble, and neatly placed himself behind Marcel. “The youngest must spill the first drop of blood.”

  “Me?” Marie swallowed audibly. “No pressure or anything,”
she winced.

  “There’s no need to be nervous, child. Approach the Agrísta and hold out your hand. You will all have to do the same,” said Gustav, addressing the room.