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“The task was to show they could force a Darkan to draw forth his beast power and to control that Darkan. Think of the possibilities, my general, for our army. And they discovered something that will position us beautifully. A Dracan. The thing that fought to protect the king houses a Dracan. I want the Darkan that houses that beast in this dungeon before the next moon night.”
“And the king?”
“We will use the Dracan to take the king.”
The laughter that pulsed from him wavered with his might. Shilah’s chest tightened as power lashed at her, biting at her skin. She breathed through it. “Sovereign emperor of Mevia, I have fulfilled my bargain. Are we to complete our oaths?” Her heart thumped in her chest, and she took some comfort from the fact that only the Darkan who looked on silently felt her dread.
“The agreement my, sweet princess, was your aid in interpreting the book of oracle and decipher a way to make the Phoenyx’ power mine. Have you discovered the way?”
She hesitated. Had they not been over this? “Its power cannot be harnessed, emperor. It is pure rage. For it to be pulled forth from King Ajali, all would be incinerated. Its heat rivals the sun,” she rasped hoarsely.
“Then you have not fulfilled your bargain.”
“The witch and I have
scoured the book of oracle, the tombs and scrolls. We presented our findings. It cannot be pulled from the king.”
“But it can be harnessed, hmmm?”
After a deep fearful pause, she continued, “I doubt that I have the power to call forth such a power, even with the witch’s incantation.”
“Are you confirming that you are useless to the execution of my plans, princess?”
Asked so blandly without a hint of power thrilling his voice, Shilah knew she faced death.
“No.” She could squeeze no more out of the tight clasp on her throat.
“You will be able to practice on the Darkan that houses the Dracan. If it takes you years, you will control this beast as you did the other.”
He threw a book and it landed at her feet. She picked up the massive tome. She skipped the first page and balked from the depiction drawn there. Even though a picture, it reeked of vicious evilness. She swallowed as she realized she held a tome that catalogued the Darkans’ beasts, their strengths…and weaknesses?
“Learn about all that a Dracan offers, for I will have control of it.”
She executed a shallow curtsy, and then walked away from his throne. She ignored the garbled whimper from the witch. Shilah had not been abused for her supposedly failure because she was the only Serangite in the kingdom of Mevia. Witches peppered Amagarie after abandoning their realm eons ago. The emperor could kill Amirah and have another Witchia in his service in a few hours. To retain another Serangite? That might take him another hundred years.
She walked through the imperial castle, rapidly planning how to proceed. What to do? She had explained to the emperor the dangers of harnessing the power of the Phoenyx and bonding it inside of himself. He was willing to risk war with Nuria to attain his obsession. There were many whispers in the castle of his plans to capture the Nurian King, but she had been disbelieving until they had been whisked away to the outer walls of his castle only a few hours ago.
To capture the king of such a nation was certainly an immense folly, but the confidence of the emperor shook her. He was either incredible powerful, more so than she comprehended, or absolutely mad.
The beauty of the empire did nothing to soothe Shilah’s frazzled nerves as she lightly ran up the stairs that led to her guest quarters. They were regal in their elegance, with several rooms and antechambers allocated for her sole use, including her own bath chamber, yet she knew her apartment for what it was. Her prison.
She eased open the doors and walked with grim purpose to her desk with its many parchments and inkwell. At least it was a comfortable prison with many luxuries provided. She came to a stunned halt seeing a man who was stooped rifling through the contents of the secret compartment in her desk. The one she’d believed she’d cleverly installed.
“Who are you and what are you doing in my chambers?” she demanded.
He rose with animalistic grace and faced her. Something wicked pulsed through her at his slow perusal. “I have told the grand general time and again I do not require a consort,” she snapped.
At his silence, she grew uncomfortable.
“I am not here for your pleasure.”
She realized that seconds after she made her rash statement. He was not dressed like a consort in silken revealing clothing like the others that had been presented to her. He seemed…predatory? She assessed him but sensed no aura. Impossible. She was an imperial—the most powerful in her designation of telepathy.
That lack of aura, the lack of his sense of power, gave her the first inkling of fear. She gently flared out her telepathy, fluttering softly against his mind, and the shield that she encountered stunned her. She studied it with her psychic eye, reading its intricate pattern. It was a shield constructed from sheer willpower, and her mind was unable to see what was housed beyond its walls.
Her heart thumped. “Are you here to kill me?”
“First a consort and now a killer,” he said with such lazy amusement Shilah was almost disarmed. Almost. She slipped her hand inside the folds of her sari and gripped the hilt of her dagger. Her fighting skills were below par of most Amagarians, but she would not be taken without a fight.
