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“It is done,” Drac rasped into the silence.
He was Gidon’s first enforcer, and his king trusted in Drac’s skills to act on his orders without hesitation. Drac would not fail him. Echoes of cries and pain slunk through his mind, and he slammed the shutters down with ruthless will. The wails of past failures would not haunt him today, and he would give his life to ensure Gidon did not fall.
Drac stepped into the shadows and moved with the darkness to uncoil into the grand hall of the castle. He needed to return to his Keep immediately. His sister and lieutenant, Tehdra, was investigating who had thought they could betray their king and live. He needed to be at the helm in the hunt for the betrayers.
Many of his people did not want an organized nation with provinces, councilors, and elders. They did not want to emulate other kingdoms’ ways, preferring to thrive on brutality and slaughter, desiring that the only commodity the Darkage should trade was their skill as shadow assassins. Gidon would have to rule without mercy to stand against those who wished to keep the Darkans in economic and political darkness.
Drac would protect the vision they were all fighting for with his last breath. Their Queen Sora had forfeited her life for the ideal they had of their kingdom. As had their king. Years ago Drac had been reduced to a snarling animal when he’d fought to save his brother Vlad and his mate, Gidon’s sisters, and they had still fallen. Blood and tears had poured from Drac while he’d fought to protect King Rajliegh, and yet he had perished. Gidon would not fall while he lived, Drac vowed.
Yesss let us kill.
His beast’s voice, familiar and insidious, slithered through his mind. Drac was in agreement. No mercy. No forgiveness. He would bring only death to those who thought they could threaten the life of his king and jeopardize the rise of their kingdom from the dark times they had suffered through.
Chapter Two
Taryllion—near the northern border of the Darkage
“Kill them and take the Princess.” The words from the enemy were brutal and decisive.
Refusing to bow to fear, Saieke harnessed her chakra, drew the wind to her with strength, and lashed power at her attacker. Sharp winds sliced from her hands cutting him deep, spewing blood. A force slammed into her from behind, propelling her several feet into the air. She twisted, using the power of her wind to softly land, then spun and sank into a crouch with her daggers in hand, the wind swirling around her.
Kamu scanned each attacker, probing for an opening. “You cannot be taken by any kingdom. Employ any means to flee from their clutches, even if it means using your keni.”
Her stomach clenched at the thought of the situation escalating to where she would need to use such a power. She was one of the few people in her kingdom that controlled two Shenkiri, manipulating both water and wind. With the combination of the two elements, she possessed a far too destructive bloodline power. “I will do all in my power to not be taken,” she assured.
Thyon and Kamu blurred, flashing toward the attackers, slashing their daggers with deadly precision. One of the assassins swept under Kamu’s flank and barreled toward her. She dove, rolling away from him, slicing cutting winds from her hands. Blood sprayed, slapping her cheeks from the multitude of cuts that appeared on his face.
“Why does Mevia hunt me?” she demanded from her crouch.
She thought it would have been Nurian assassins they fought, but they had been attacked by two warriors from the kingdom of sound. No one should have been privy to the information that she fled Boreas, and the implications left her cold. Spies haunted her kingdom.
For the first time, she got a caricature of a smile and a response from her attacker. “Are you not the Nurian king’s intended?” His voice was a melody of destructive power.
Saieke cringed. Before she could formulate a response, he flashed toward her.
“Get back!”
At Thyon’s yell, she ducked, missing the fist that slammed towards her head. Her heart jerked. She had not seen him come under her flank. Her Queen’s Blades flashed in front of her, forming a protective barrier. Dread knotted her stomach as the Mevian on the left opened his mouth. Power in its purest form flowed from his lips, the sound eerie and high pitch
ed. The earth roiled under their feet.
Her stomach heaved, and Saieke’s mind muddled, the beauty and pitch of the sound holding her in enthrallment. She flung out winds of such intense cold they struggled to breathe. Wind howled from her Queens’s Blades as they attacked, and she waved her hands in rapid patterns, drawing water from a nearby lake toward them in a tidal wave. She focused her chakra and combined her elements, forming a block of ice as an impenetrable defense barrier. Sounds grated and pulsed around the block of ice in a harmony so beautifully haunting, her body trembled. Two distinct shrieks rose in the air like a banshee wail and slammed into the ice wall splintering it into mere shards and frost.
“Aahhhh,” the scream strangled in her throat.
Saieke labored to breathe, her chest tightening. Her ears rang and her throat constricted as pain gripped her. Thyon stumbled, vomiting, and Kamu recoiled, blood spewing from his shattered eardrums.
Her stomach bottomed out. The Mevians stood relatively unharmed with only slight blood trickling from their face and neck.
“Your highness, please flee as fast as you can. Go! We will hold them off,” Thyon said with quiet intensity.
“I cannot leave—”
“Go!” Kamu growled, swiping at the blood tricking along his neck. “Stay true to our course and we will find you. We will lose everything if they take you, Princess.”
After a slight hesitation, Saieke nodded. “You are forbidden from leaving this world before your time,” she ordered, flashing away with speed.
Her skin prickled, she glanced back to see one of the assassins moving with ruthless purpose to reach her. She frowned, her hands trembling as she coaxed the wind, harnessing it to propel at a faster speed. The assassin emitted another intense sound, and the vibrations slammed inside her body, cracking her ribs.
