Is there anything more dangerous than a Vhorathi with no limits? AKingwith no limits?
The true danger of a Zhyrrak-bonded warrior is so much greater than I was ever told. While I do feel stronger, the threat of my increased physicality pales in comparison to the threat of my restructured priorities and the shadow that has awoken in my depths. It feels likeTalrathincarnate—a demon with a singular purpose—and I know I will not be able to keep it caged forever. Worse than that, I fear it is the reason my ancestors were so deadly. Perhaps that is why the stories are all so vague: the truth was too horrible to share.
I wish I understood what this all meant, but I know so little, and with each passing moment, it seems I know a little less. My eyes lock on the outline of the cell door, just barely visible in the dim light. The only thing I am certain of is that getting Amara out of here will not be easy.
She is not on Calidus by choice, and that complicates our situation. She is bound by a contract I have no power to nullify. Securing her freedom will require Gaius’s agreement, and if my suspicions are correct, the only thing he plans on agreeing to is my death. While killing him would be the easyoption, it would ultimately cause more problems than it solved. It would leave my Obligation incomplete and Amara’s contract intact. A challenge to my throne is one thing, but I am not willing to risk Amara being tied to an incomplete contract. She would become a fugitive, and nowhere would be safe for her.
No. If we are to leave this place alive and free, it cannot be achieved through brute force. We must be smarter than our enemies. We must plan carefully. And, we must ensure that Gaius’s actions are seen by many.
I trace the line where Amara’s hip meets her abdomen and watch the subtle quiver of muscle beneath her pale skin. In sleep, her emotions flow unbidden through our tether. Wordless cries echo through my mind as her dreams oscillate between unimaginable terror and steady unease. I hate what has been done to her and the scars it has left behind, but I think I hate myself more.
I failed her. I failed to see what was right in front of me.
I knew about Gaius’s insane laws—I saw the fights where ‘criminals’ were ‘brought to justice’—and yet I refused to see the truth until Amara told me she was not here by choice.
Gaius is not putting ‘criminals’ to death; he is murdering slaves for sport and using his ridiculous laws to do it legally.
I was a fool.
When I first heard the rumors, I scoffed. The idea of the Tusku selling sentient beings was absurd. Impossible. But the rumors kept coming until I could no longer disregard them. And yet, I failed to prove they were true.
I wish I had pushed back against Marius harder. He was so content to believe the Senate. So fearful of disobeying them. I recall the words he spoke to me so clearly. “If theLysaerand her government have determined this investigation is pointless, we must accept that. Do not ruin your reputation for this.”
At the time, I accepted his wisdom, but looking back, I fear that was a mistake.
I grit my teeth and force down the wave of regret that threatens to overtake me.
Emotion serves no purpose. Do not let it control you.
What happened cannot be changed. I must focus on the future, not the past.
Needing to remind myself that she is here now, I gently pull Amara closer, feeling her warm skin as it presses to mine and the way her breath skates up my neck.
There is a flicker of something panicked in our connection, and she wakes in a storm of flying limbs. Shrieks perforate the silence. Hooked fingers claw at me. Glassy eyes, wide and unseeing, search for something that is not there.
A nightmare.
“It is ok,” I say, gently redirecting her attempted strikes so she does not hurt herself. “You are safe.”
I repeat the words until her limbs fall and her eyes go wide with recognition.
Then she cries. For the second time in as many hours, her body shakes as she expels what feels like a lifetime of pent-up pain. It is nearly unbearable, knowing there is nothing I can do to fix it. So I hold her and let her pain become my own. I accept every festering fear and absorb every limitless sorrow until her anguish blends with mine.
My muscles tense as if preparing for a fight, but there is no enemy here. Not anymore. The damage is in the past, and only the echoes of it remain.
“You are safe,” I say, uncertain of who my words are for. Her or me.
The Zhyrrak brought us together so I could be her safe harbor in the violent storms of life, but I fear that I am the violent storm.
When her sobs turn into silent tears, she whispers, “I’m sorry.”
I roll onto my back, pulling her with me until her head rests on my chest. “Do not apologize to me. Ever.”
“I hit you,” she whispers.
I shake my head and pull her arm over my body. “The only way you could harm me is by denying me your heart.”
She lies so still while her mind pulses with a mixture of embarrassment and frustration.
