Broken (18 page)

His warmth engulfed her as he wrapped his arms around her from behind. His lips brushed her ear. “Then I shall take you.”

“Alone.”

Octavion stiffened. “Kira, I—”

Kira spun around, breaking his hold on her. “Don’t say no. I need this.”

Their eyes locked for a few tense moments before he finally spoke. “Very well, then. But I want to stay here where I can see you if you need me.”

“But—”

He pressed his lips to hers, most likely to keep her from protesting. When they parted, she leaned into his arms and let him comfort her. She inhaled, her breath catching before her lungs filled with air. He smelled so good—felt even better. She didn’t want to leave the security of his arms, but she had no choice. She needed to do this—for herself and for Altaria.

Kira let a handful of dirt sift through her fingers. She thought kneeling by Lydia’s grave would be unbearable, that she’d break down in gut wrenching sobs, begging her for forgiveness. Instead, she felt nothing but emptiness. The body that lay beneath was not her friend, but a hollow shell where a loving spirit once lived. In her heart she knew Lydia hadn’t left them—not completely. She felt her everywhere and knew she would always be with her—like Altaria.

That’s how she’d survive this, knowing Lydia’s spirit still lived and watched over them. It gave her hope. Hope that one day Altaria and Lydia would reunite—in death.

She wondered if they believed in heaven on Ophira. She hoped so. “We’ll see her again, Al. I promise.”

This time, no warmth burned within her, no sign that Altaria even existed. Only a cold chill buried deep beneath the surface of her skin. She ached to see Lydia’s face, crooked smile and those beautiful green eyes with their flicker of Altaria’s icy blue behind them.

A soft whimper filled Kira’s ears and for a brief moment she thought it was her imagination. After all, she’d heard and seen things in her mind before. But then it came again—a girl’s muffled sobs.

Kira looked to see if Octavion still watched. He crouched in front of one of the boys she’d seen him with earlier, a piece of rope tangled in the youth’s fingers. Octavion laughed, then took the strand of rope from him. It warmed places in her heart she didn’t know she had—places where even Altaria’s sorrow couldn’t reach.

Another heart wrenching sob filtered through the trees. As much as she didn’t want to intrude, she felt pulled toward the sound. She knew all too well what it felt like to be alone with your grief. Maybe she could give some comfort or at the very least make a new friend in this wild and dangerous world.

Kira stood, brushed the dirt and grass from her skirt and started through the trees toward a stone structure, its walls crumbling from age and neglect. She followed the whimpers through a wooden door sagging from a single rusty hinge. Her heart clenched when she recognized the plain tan dress and brown hair hunched over a stone bench.

“Ussay?” Kira rushed to her side, the cold damp stone pressing against her knees as she knelt. “What it is? Are you hurt?”

The girl laughed, then slowly turned to face Kira. “Looking for someone?” Everything about the imposter felt evil, right down to her sinister grin and black eyes. A female Darkord.

Crap!

Kira tried to stand, but her feet tangled in her dress and she fell back to the ground. The girl reached out and grabbed Kira’s leg, but Kira dug her heel in the dirt between two stones and pushed as hard as she could, trying to break the girl’s hold. The girl lurched forward and grabbed a handful of Kira’s dress. Kira managed a good kick to the girl’s face with a thrust of her foot. Blood sprayed onto the girl’s dress—Ussay’s dress. Panic gripped Kira’s heart as she quickly scanned the room. Where was Ussay?

The girl buried her face in her hands, giving Kira the freedom she needed to escape. “You broke my nose,” the girl yelled. “Get her!”

Kira jumped to her feet and ran full force into a solid mass of muscle, a man’s chest. Before she could change directions, he wrapped an arm around her waist and grabbed her braid, yanking her head back.

“And where do you think you are going?” he asked.

“Let go of me!” Kira drove the heel of her hand up under his chin and thrust her knee into his groin. The man released a guttural groan before doubling over, pulling her to the ground with him. She’d forgotten about her tender back until it slammed onto the stone floor. She rolled to her side and tried to catch her breath.

The girl stood next to Kira and sliced the blade of her knife through the front of Ussay’s dress, letting it fall to the ground at her feet. Underneath, she wore black leather pants and a thin blouse that left very little to the imagination. She kicked the dress aside, then used the same boot to kick Kira square in belly.

Kira grabbed her stomach and drew her knees up. “What do you want from me?”

“Get up!” the girl said.

“Not until you tell me—”

The girl delivered another kick, cutting off Kira’s words. “I said get up!”

“Okay, okay.” Kira choked out the words, then rolled to her knees and pull herself to her feet—the pain in her stomach made it almost impossible to straighten. She stepped back from her attackers. “Now what? Torture? Poison? Or maybe you just want to mess with my head.”

The man regained his feet and circled around to grab Kira from behind. He drew his knife and put the blade to her throat. “How about I cut your tongue out to silence that mouth?”

“Well you wouldn’t be the first to try.” Kira grabbed his arm and tried to pull it away. It only made him tighten his arm around her stomach and apply more pressure. Bile rose in her throat and she had to swallow hard to keep from throwing up—although spewing vomit all over the Darkord did cross her mind.

“Enzo!” the girl called over her shoulder. “Bring her out here!”

A shuffling sound came from the back of the structure, followed by a muffled whimper. A few seconds later, another man, this one far more dangerous looking than the first, came from under the staircase with Ussay in his arms—his hand pressed firmly over her mouth. She wore a soiled slip torn free from one shoulder and her eyes were red and swollen, her face stained with tears.

“Let her go,” Kira demanded.

“I will release her after I deliver a message from a friend of yours,” the girl said, her voice now a little too nasal. “You remember Shandira, yes?” She stepped closer, so close Kira could see the break in her nose. “She seeks revenge for what you have done and we are more than eager to deliver a blow that will bring you and your prince the kind of grief she suffers.”

The girl reached into a small pouch hanging from her belt and pulled out a bundle about six inches long and as big around as her wrist. She unfolded the flaps of leather to expose a clump of long, white, needle-like spikes. She gripped it at the base with the piece of leather, then brought it up to Kira’s face. She spread the spines out, exposing a clear membrane that held them together like the lace on a fancy Victorian fan.

Ussay gasped, bit down on the man’s hand and tried to wrestle out of his arms. “Kira, do not let them touch you with tha—” Her words were cut off by a solid punch to her ribcage. The man clamped his hand back over her mouth.

“Ussay! Don’t fight them,” Kira yelled. “Do what they say.” She glanced at the open door, hoping Octavion would notice her missing from the cemetery and come to find her. Even if she screamed, she wasn’t sure she’d be heard over all the noise from the festival. And she hadn’t gained enough strength back from her last ordeal with Shandira to fight more than she already had. Now, more than ever, she wished Altaria would take control of her body so she could kick some Darkord butt.

“What is that?” Kira asked. After Ussay’s reaction, she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.

The girl made a grand gesture with the object, lightly brushing it across Kira’s cheek—as if that alone would scare her. “The dorsal fin of a S’Kiff—a beautiful fish that lives in the depths of our many oceans. One prick to your skin will bring you more pain than you can bear.” A menacing grin crossed her face. “And render your womb barren and your prince without an heir.”

Her words pierced Kira’s heart. In this world, having an heir meant everything, especially for a prince. Kira had taken Shandira’s hope of giving her prince an heir and now she planned to do the same to her.

“Kira!” Octavion called from a distance.

The man holding Ussay pushed her to the ground and took off through an opening in the back of the structure.

“Coward,” the girl yelled.

All at once the room exploded with voices and movement. Ussay screamed. Octavion appeared at the door demanding Kira’s release. Seconds later Luka—with three other Royals—entered the room, completely transformed and ready to fight.

Kira lurched forward after being shoved by her captor, who Octavion immediately took down. As big and strong as the man seemed, he didn’t have a chance. The force behind the man’s shove, caused Kira to slam full force into the girl and both tumbled to the ground in a heap. For several blurred moments, Kira wasn’t sure who was where and which groan or cry of profanity came from whom.

Then just as fast as it had begun, it was over. Both of her male attackers had been killed and the woman lie unconscious, a large section of the S’Kiff’s dorsal fin buried in her stomach. Gripped tightly in her right hand were the three remaining spikes, one with the tip broken off. Luka stepped to her side and slit her throat.

Kira gasped. “Why did you do that?”

Luka wiped his knife on the girl’s shirt and slipped it back in its sheath. “Trust me. She would have begged me to do that when she woke.” He pulled his tunic over his head and handed it to Ussay. “Cover yourself, then I will take you home.”

Octavion helped Kira from the floor and examined her. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine.” But she didn’t feel fine. Her gut ached where the girl kicked her and an infernal burning in her arm made her fingers tingle. She pulled her sleeve up to see if maybe she’d been scratched or hit a piece of debris when she fell and got a sliver. About halfway between her wrist and the crook of her arm was a huge red welt—in the center, the tip of a S’Kiff’s dorsel fin.

“Where is Ussay?” Octavion asked. He’d brought Kira to her room in the castle the instant he saw the welt on her arm. Not because of the wound itself, but because the fin needed to be removed and he couldn’t do it himself for fear of it bleeding.

“She is in the hall.” Luka said. “I tried taking her home so she could get cleaned up and change, but she insisted on staying with Kira. She feels responsible.”

“I need her to remove this,” Octavion said.

“No!” Kira yelled. “She’s not touching it. I don’t want to take a chance of her getting pricked by it. I’ll do it myself, just give me a pair of tweezers or a knife. I can get it out.”

Octavion sat on the bed next to Kira, her face scrunched in pain. He didn’t have the heart to tell her how bad it would get before her ordeal was over—worse than any physical torture she’d ever endured. And the long term damage would render her barren. Although they’d never discussed having children, he knew it would break her heart.

He took Kira’s trembling hand. “Look at you. You are shaking. There is no way you can take that out. At least let Luka get Gregor. Ussay can be here if he needs her help.”

Luka disappeared from the room without a word. A few moments later he burst through the door, Gregor in tow.

The old man grumbled something under his breath before he spoke. “You boys think you can rip me from my home at a moment’s notice and assume I will be at your beck and call day and night. I do have other patients and—”

“Gregor!” Octavion scolded. “Stop complaining. My father pays you well to be at our disposal. Have you forgotten that?”

Gregor’s face softened. “No, dear prince. Please forgive my rudeness. I did not know it was you who required my services.” He moved closer and bowed.

Ussay stood at the door, still wearing Luka’s tunic over her torn slip. “May I help?” Her voice barely a whisper.

“Yes,” Octavion said. “But I need to speak with you first.” Lacing his fingers through Kira’s hair, he held her tear stained face in his hands. He wiped the moisture from under her eyes with his thumbs then kissed her forehead. “I need to explain what will happen next—what the S’Kiff will do to you.”

Kira’s chin quivered and more tears welled up in her eyes. “I already know. And I know you’ll need to choose someone else to marry now. Someone who can give you an heir. You can take me back home. I don’t belong here anyway.”

“What? No. I do not want anyone else. We belong together—whether in your world or mine. This changes nothing, Kira. Do you understand? Nothing.”

Kira stifled a sob. “It changes everything.”

Octavion took her in his arms and held her close. “I love you. Nothing can change that. Not even this.” A spasm ran through her body and he laid her back on the pillows. Her injured arm shook violently.

“It hurts,” she cried, pulling her arm close to her body. “Get this thing out of me. Make it stop.”

Octavion turned to Luka. “Perhaps Mara would be better suited to explain this and give her comfort.”

“Consider it done.” Luka vanished.