Selene watched for a long while, observing Darion Thorne as he lay unconscious on the cold stone floor, and wondering if she had made a colossal mistake by allowing the handsome, dangerous Breed warrior into her world.
CHAPTER 20
Darion’s head felt like it had been split open with an axe and put back together again.
Everything ached. He tried to move and found he was lying on cold stone. He hurt everywhere, but he was alive. At least for now.
The damp smell of hewn rock hit his senses at the same time he peeled open his eyes and realized he was in some sort of cell. Though this was unlike any prison he’d ever seen before.
Three walls were made of stone, with a thick iron-banded door sealing him inside. A pale glow radiated all around it, but that wasn’t the strangest part of the room.
One entire wall of it was open to the elements, looking out onto a world blazing with the full intensity of a noonday sun.
Holy shit.
Daylight.
Instinct brought him up in a scramble of screaming limbs and throbbing skull. He was well within the shadows of the surprisingly large, empty cell, yet the sight of all that sunshine was hard to ignore.
A gull swept past on a shrill cry as it arced toward the thin clouds overhead. Evidently, wherever Selene had sent him, he had to be many stories off the ground. One of the steep towers of the palace grounds, then?
Compared to the opulence of the rest of the palace, the one he’d been left in held the neglect of a tomb. Scorch marks scarred the pale stone walls and floor with angry smudges of black soot. Cobwebs hung in the corners, riffling in the warm breeze flowing in from outside.
Darion forced his limbs to take him to the edge of the shadow cover so he could get his bearings on his location. As he moved, he noticed his weapons and boots had been confiscated. His black combat fatigues stuck to his skin like they’d been pasted on, only adding to the discomfort of trying to move.
Cautiously, his retinas burning with the effort, he peered out at his surroundings.
He was in the uppermost chamber of a ruin on the east side of the sprawling palace compound and courtyards. No less than ten stories stood between him and the ground. An easy jump for him, but not with the white-hot sun high in the sky overhead.
Shielding his face with his arm, he glanced higher, up toward the clouds . . . and noticed something odd.
Despite all the sunlight pouring down over the realm, Darion could see a crescent moon and a blanket full of stars glittering faintly above the canopy of light.
What the fuck?
The door to his cell swung open, and in walked a tall Atlantean male. Not a soldier, despite the long, sheathed blade that hung at his side. Golden-haired and outfitted in fine teal and white robes, the male looked like some manner of official. In his hands he carried some folded linen clothing.
His shrewd blue eyes registered Darion’s curiosity about the sky outside. “It’s real enough. Feel free to test the light if you like. I’ve never seen a Breed vampire burn up before.”
Dare flashed his fangs. “Maybe another time. Where’s Selene? We were in the middle of a conversation when she rudely cut me off with a lightning bolt to the chest.”
“Her Majesty has no interest in speaking with you.”
“Who are you then, her royal mouthpiece?”
The male sneered. “I am Sebathiel. High Chancellor and adviser to Her Majesty.”
Darion grunted. “Were you the one who advised her to abduct Jordana and ransom her back to the Order in exchange for our crystal? Some family, eh, Seb?”
He bristled visibly, as if Darion had struck an unseen mark. “Do not test her wrath,” he snarled. “You’d be wise not to test mine, either.”
Sebathiel tossed the clothes at him. “Put them on.”
An ecru linen tunic and tan pants fell at Darion’s feet, along with a pair of plain leather sandals. He eyed the shoes and garments, glancing at the Atlantean with some skepticism. “You gonna stand there and watch?”
The big Atlantean crossed his arms, neither speaking nor leaving the room.
Darion shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
