She steered Kaelivan, whose blonde locks were tousled with the same resistance he displayed and whose hands had been chained behind his back. Not a single relic marred her flawless porcelain skin. Her dark hair sat in a bun, not a single strand out of place. As soon as she met Sorva’s gaze, she dipped her chin, a sinister grin blooming on her lips. I caught the vibrant yellow hue of her irises, a color so unnatural, so otherworldly.
She is one of them.
The prince didn’t bat an eye in my direction as Sorva ordered us onto our respective horses. Her men worked to carry a still sleeping man off the ship and strap him onto the back of the dark goddess's horse. With his head slumped against her back and his dark curls matted by his own blood, we progressed as soon as she flashed an amused smile in our direction.
With her mischievous grin burned into my mind, alongside Sapphira’s appearance as she followed the rest of the men off the ship, I focused my attention elsewhere as we trudged deeper into Serevalen.
I shot a few glances toward the prince, whose eyes remained locked on Sorva’s unconscious travel companion. There was concern there, weakness, and it was then that I realized why the king had demanded his son’s return.
Punishment.
We’d completed the rest of the journey to the palace in silence, neither of us interested in entertaining either woman or those who surrounded them. Each clop of hooves ticked away at our arrival time, a metronome of the impending doom I knew awaited both of us.
The sound was rhythmic in a way that was just as haunting as the now consistent clack of the king’s ring against the crystal glass in his hand as he peered down at me from his dais.
The doors slammed shut as Sorva shoved me forward into the space. A low snarl rolled from my chest in response to her unwanted and unwelcome touch, but the king’s utterance swallowed it whole. “It’s been a while, Vayne. I’m happy to see that travel didn’t prove to… dampen your fire.”
“I would offer similar respects, but it seems that your…lackof travel has aided in quite the weight?—”
A booted foot slammed into the back of my leg, forcing me to my knees. Colliding with dark stone, a spike of anguish tore through my body. It burned my thighs before lacing up my hips in response to the stationary position I’d locked myself into during our travels.
“I believe what hemeantto say,” Sorva snarled, stepping around me, her robe no longer adorning her frame, “is that he’s honored to be back.”
Form-fitting battle leathers clung to her like a second skin, displaying her minimal curves—her size and shape far too similar to Rohen. Where she once had no hair, a near-white bob had grown, light curls clinging to the strands. With the ancient markings absent, her pallid complexion hinted at humanity, a glamouring tool to conceal the evil lurking beneath. And if I hadn’t known any better, the sight may have been believable: her lack of curled horns and talons making her appear…mortal.
Jaw feathering, I craned my chin toward her. “No. That is the furthest thing from what I intended to say.”
A sharp crack reverberated through the throne room, the connection of the slap registering after her palm had already collided with my cheek. Ears ringing, the sudden warmth aided in resurfacing the agony pulsing from my broken nose. Fingers digging into my jaw, she forced my attention toward her once more, her burning ember eyes igniting with ire-fueled fire.
“I would suggest you bemindfulof how you speak to me if you wish for this to work, Caspian Vayne.” Forked tongue darting between her teeth, one attribute of her truth that hadn’t vanished, her glare deepened. “Though, if you desire to remain obedient and suffocated by the crown, then continue running your mouth. You should beecstaticto be here, considering the opportunity we are willing to present.”
Lips curling into a sneer, I spat out a mouthful of blood, crimson speckles sprinkling over her cheeks. “If you wish to command me, then Ihate to be the bearer of bad news, but I would rather be executed than submit?—”
Two fingers met my chest, settling against the brand of the royal crest. An affliction unlike anything I’d experienced before, even when the marking had prevented me from speaking, scorched my veins.
My lungs seized. Dark spots grew in my line of sight, and the throne room shifted and molded into a landscape of gray stone and flowing lava. Blinking once, the imagery shifted again, and instead of a view of something entirely unknown, I was nose-to-nose with Rohen. Mouth open, her brows furrowed with pleasure, her bare skin brushing against mine as I thrust into her. I could feel her pebbled nipples against me. I could feel… could feel…
Glancing down between us, a white linen shirt adorned her frame, and a macabre flower of crimson grew outward from her stomach. She swayed slightly before I lunged for her, catching her before she could collide with what appeared to be mountainous terrain. Through a gasped breath, she reached up to touch my cheek, uttering words I couldn’t understand. But when her gaze trailed down, a glossy sheen filming her otherwise vibrant emerald stare, I followed.
In the same spot, my own lineage bloomed, quickly seeping through the fabric of my own shirt. It grew at the same pace, as if we had been carved into simultaneously, our injuries mirrors of each other’s. I dragged my hand across the incomprehensible wound, raising it as a tremor rocked my frame. Scarlet stained my fingers, and when I met Rohen’s gaze once more, her bottom lip quivered before three words left her.
“I’m so sorry.”
Through a heave, the dark marble returned, and my shoulders raised as I retched a mouthful of clotted blood onto the space between my hands. An inescapable chill rolled through me, my body shaking as I struggled to comprehend what the hell had happened.
“Is it starting to make sense now?” Fingers laced through my hair as Sorva ripped me upright. “You are bound to silence byme, just like your pitiful father. Any truth linked to the prophecy will turn your innardsto molten sludge, compress your lungs until nothing remains, and coil around your throat like a strand of barbed wire. You haveno voiceunlessIgrant it.”
I hissed between clenched teeth, struggling to swallow the groan of pain that warped my utterance. “What… thefuckdo you… want from me?”
“Allegiance,” Sorva crooned, glancing at the king. “Right,ourMajesty?
Marellan dipped his chin. “Beneath your brand remains a relic which is responsible for commanding your damnation, snuffing out your truth. Sorva carved it there before the hot iron greeted your flesh, and your mind was wiped of any recollection of her involvement. Where you believed you were a free man, a foolish pirate roaming the lands, you’vealwaysremained latched to me. You aremine,Caspian. I fucking own you, and by default, so do the Others.”
Bile rose, burning the back of my throat. It was a reality I thought I knew, one where I understood my leashed attachment to the crimson throne. But it had never occurred to me that it went this deep, this corrupted, this… vile.
“The day I tossed you off that ship was a test,” the king continued. “And just as stupid as we believed her to be, the Goddess of the Sea revived you because of your attachment to her daughter. With her blessing, you harbor the Eye of Ellira, which I’m sure you know, considering your father’s involvement in this ongoing war.”
Sorva slowly loosened her hold, brushing the back of her fingers along my bruise-covered cheekbone. “Since you are now an Eye yourself, your blood is valuable. When you were still a child and an early teen, King Marellan used it in ritual to strengthen our reign to the point that those walking alongside me were able to manifest. From there, we took to enchanting our markings even further, using washed-up shards of the Eye that rolled from the cove courtesy of your salvation.
