“Why did you do this to me?” Lyra asked her.
Myanin was panting as she ran, which was weird because she’d never been out of breath in her life. Djinn didn’t get out of breath.You know that’s not why you’re out of breath,a voice in her mind chided her.You’re panicking,the voice continued. The voice of her conscience was loud in her mind, but Myanin tried to ignore it. The djinn thought she’d lost that part of herself when she’d killed the elder. Now, the recently deceased elder, or at least some strange vision of her, was jogging beside Myanin, and Lyra didn’t seem to be having any trouble keeping pace. Myanin was already sprinting, but she pushed herself to run faster. Yet no matter how fast she moved, the djinn elder kept up with her, asking the same question.Why?
“Why, Myanin?” Lyra asked yet again. “Why did you kill me? What did I do that sentenced me to death in your eyes?”
Myanin finally stopped running. She bent over, her hands resting on her knees, as she gulped in as much air as she could. What was the point? She could run to the gates of hell and back and never outrun the demon plaguing her mind.
“Myanin, wh—” Lyra started again, but Myanin interrupted her as she stood from her bent position.
“You treated me like a criminal!” She roared at the elder who looked alive and well, though Myanin knew she was anything but. Perhaps the vision of Lyra was the dead djinn’s spirit, returned to haunt Myanin for the rest of her days. She sure as hell hoped not. “You had me cleaning your rugs like some slave. I’m a warrior.” Myanin slammed her fist against her chest. “And a damn good one at that, and you and the other elders carelessly tossed me aside, as if all the centuries I have guarded our realm meant nothing! LikeIwas nothing.” Her hand swiped through the air, slicing it like a sword through an invisible enemy.
Lyra shook her head. Her eyes were filled with sadness, rather than the anger Myanin thought she would see. Who looked at their murderer with sadness?
“Why?” Lyra asked yet again. “Why did you kill me?”
Myanin reached up her hands and gripped her hair at the roots, pulling it hard as she gritted her teeth. “Wake up!” she yelled as she squeezed her eyes closed. She didn’t want to look at the sorrow-filled eyes of the elder for another second. She didn’t want to hear the question again and again. “WAKE UP, DAMN YOU!”
Myanin shot up straight in her bed. Sweat covered her skin, and her long hair stuck to her damp flesh. The sick feeling in her stomach, which had become ubiquitous since she’d escaped her own realm, was a typhoon in her gut. She felt as if she’d eaten a basket full of rancid fish, and her body was trying hard to expel it. Yet no amount of vomiting eased the feeling. It was simply one of the punishments for what she’d done. Another was the damn dream, or nightmare rather, that she got to experience every … freaking … night. They started the night the prisoners had escaped, and they’d not let up since. Every time she closed her eyes, without fail, Lyra was there, waiting with the same question.
Myanin glanced at the phone on the small table beside the bed. It was early, too early to be awake, but she had no desire to go back to sleep. She got up and grabbed her weapons from where they rested against a wall. The small room she’d been assigned by Alston only had one entry point, and there was no window. If she had an intruder, Myanin would easily be able to get to her weapons while also using the bed for cover if need be. She’d avoid using her power if she could.
Her emotions were so volatile as of late. The power she’d taken from Lyra, overwhelmed her at times, as if she’d taken one bite too many of her meal and it was threatening to come back up. Other times, Myanin could practically feel the power moving just under her skin, as if seeking a way out. She had no idea what would happen if she let her magic loose in an uncontrolled environment. In her own realm, warriors were allowed to practice using their magic, but only under the watchful eye of the elders who could intervene if necessary. They were told it was an absolute last resort if ever in a fight, not that there had been any fights between djinn and other supernatural races. The djinn were supposed to only be historians, and as her skin pulsed with power, she began to understand why.
Myanin didn’t have to change clothes. She’d managed to find a solid black uniform that she’d seen other Order warriors wearing, and she simply slept in it. Rolling her neck around after donning her blades, she headed for the door. The djinn was in need of a good fight, and there was always somebody sparring. She’d been told her presence was required at a meeting of the Order leaders, but it wasn’t until midday. That should give her plenty of time to put a few fae on their asses and help banish the nightmare from her mind.
She reached the training building and smiled. There were plenty of potential victims either sparring or standing around watching. She walked through the waiting crowd and didn’t miss the way they parted for her—some of them looking at her with distrust, a few with interest, but most with simple curiosity.Let them wonder. She didn’t care what they thought of her.
As soon as a sparring circle opened, Myanin moved to it and pulled out the two short swords she kept in sheaths on her back. She rotated her wrists, spinning the blades in alternating circles as she waited. She knew she wouldn’t need to wait long. There was always someone who wanted to show their strength against a powerful opponent. Fighting a djinn was something few would ever have the opportunity to do because the secretive race rarely left their own realm. It was definitely an opportunity to prove something. Whether what they proved was the fact that they were an idiot or extraordinarily brave was the question. Finally, a male fae stepped into the circle. He was tall and possessed more bulk than most of the fae she’d seen. Like the others, he had long hair, though the dark locks were pulled back into a braid, away from his face. His eyes were stone grey and cold as ice. Thin lips pulled tight across his face as he narrowed his icy gaze on her. She could feel his judgment, and the fact that he already found her lacking even before fighting her.
“Are you going to just stand there and stare or do you actually want to prove how stupid you are?” Myanin asked, her voice sounding bored even to herself. Inside, she was anything but bored. She was a boiling volcano close to erupting. She didn’t care if these people were near her when she did. In fact, she welcomed it. The power inside of her, the one that didn’t belong to her because she’d stolen it from another, was still seeking a way out. The magic acted as if it knew its host was not its rightful owner, and Myanin felt she was fighting a constant battle to keep it in check. She wondered if she could appease it if she used a tiny amount. And by tiny she meant miniscule. No more than it would take to power a single light bulb.
The fae held out his hand and a sword appeared in his grasp. “Those are some interesting words, considering they come from the lips of one who killed one of her own, an elder no less.”
The words were a punch to Myanin’s gut, though she showed no outward reaction. A reaction would appear as a weakness, and looking weak in this bunch made you a sheep among wolves. Myanin might have been a lot of things, but a sheep was not one of them. For the first time since having fled the djinn realm, she felt shame, even if only a small amount, concerning her actions. Her opponent was lumping her in with the Order. Traitors to their people. The lowest of the low. She’d never had a high opinion of humans, but she’d also never had the desire to subjugate them. What kind of conqueror did it make you if you only conquered those who stood absolutely no chance against you? That wasn’t power.
Myanin had no idea how the fae knew about her, but she really shouldn’t have been surprised. All it would take is one pixie hearing about what she’d done and the entire supernatural world would know. Hell, the djinn elders had probably put a bounty on her head.
“You’re standing in the middle of the Burning Claw headquarters talking to me about betrayal?” she scoffed. “How many of your people have you killed, fae? I bet it’s more than just one.” His lips tightened further. He didn’t mind pointing the finger at another, but he sure didn’t like having that finger turned on him.
“I am doing what is necessary to help our people. It’s not my fault they cannot see their own folly,” he growled at her as he crouched into a fighting stance and began to circle her.
Myanin moved her feet in time with his, her eyes bouncing from his eyes to his waist and down to his feet, looking for a tell—a subtle movement that preceded his attack. Everyone had a tell. When her eyes met his again, she saw the small shift in them right before he lunged. She crossed her swords above her head, catching the center of his blade. She couldn’t help but smile. This was what she needed. Finally, she felt her own blood pumping through her veins instead of the constant pulse of the magic inside her. Though she wasn’t surrounded by a raging battle, she was still getting to use her abilities—skills she’d honed over the centuries.
He was strong, but then, she wasn’t using her power. She was simply fighting with her martial art skills, as if she had no supernatural power at all. Depending on how much of his own power he used, she might have to pick up her speed or risk a slash to her gut.
The fae lifted his sword away quickly and then swung it down and across. She jumped back, narrowly avoiding the blade. She bounced on the balls of her feet while the fae leered at her.Okay, more power it is.Myanin rolled her neck, loosening up the muscles that had been so tense when she’d woken up. She’d have to be careful. She’d have to give most of her attention to controlling the magic, which actually might be a good thing. It gave her something else to focus on besides the anger the fae’s words had stirred up and the shame she sure as hell didn’t want to feel.
Myanin didn’t wait for him to attack. She moved at a speed almost impossible for even the fae eyes to track. Her swords whipped through the air as she turned, flipped, ducked, and dodged her opponent’s moves. As soon as she picked up the pace, the fae joined her. He was moving just as fast, his sword meeting her own beat for beat. She saw an opening, so Myanin slid toward him and ducked under his sword arm. She twisted and flung her elbow back. It hit the fae squarely in the face. She lunged away from him and turned, blades ready, but no counterattack came. The man wiped blood from his nose. He looked at the red liquid on the back of his hand as if it was a foreign substance. Had he never seen his own blood? Based on the small amount of shock in his grey eyes, perhaps he hadn’t, at least not at the hands of someone he clearly thought beneath him. Myanin smiled. She felt a strange need to taunt him but also thought it beneath her to engage in such a childish tactic. Instead, she simply waited.
“I’m curious,” the fae said as he once again began to circle their sparring area.
“Curiosity can be fatal for cats. It probably isn't much safer for fae,” she said, despite the fact that she’d told herself she wasn’t going to taunt him. Perhaps a little taunting wouldn’t hurt.
“Why did you come here? We’ve never had a djinn join the Order.” He stared at her, his gaze hard as if he were trying to pull information from her mind. “Are you really here because you believe supernaturals should be able to live out in the open instead of hiding in the shadows like rats? Or are you simply hiding yourself?” He stopped moving and then added, “Like a coward.”
“Tsk, tsk, fae,” Myanin said in a soft voice. “Tis not nice to call others names. It makes you look weak. After all, what kind of warrior has to resort to words instead of simply using his blade to prove himself?”
Rage entered the man’s eyes. The fae growled like an angry wolf and thrust his sword at her. It was not a smart move, but an emotional one. He should know better than to allow his emotions to enter a fight. Emotions caused mistakes, and mistakes made you dead.
