AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You’ll never control it,” the queen snarled, clutching at his arm, trying to pry him off. “I should not have helped you. You’re no god.”
He threw her to the floor and marched back to Lark, where he grabbed him by the neck and drove him to his knees.
My heart lurched. I started forward; Draven moved too. “Razak, Dallin help me, if you hurt him I will finish what we began in my court.”
Razak snorted. “The court I burned as you lay bleeding? Oh, do stop pretending you and your dimwitted warlord are anything to me but a nuisance. I’m embarrassed for you. Truly.” He stroked a finger down Lark’s cheek, slid it under his chin, then clamped his neck, squeezing hard. “Another step,Arin, and I’ll break Zayan’s pretty neck.”
I jolted to a stop, stopping Draven too. “You won’t. You love him.”
Razak’s grin turned vicious. “As an only child, you would think that.” He bent forward to study Lark’s blank face, then lifted his glare through dark lashes.
Murder gleamed in Razak’s eyes. I hung back.
Razak jerked his chin. “It has taken years to get to this moment, soyouwill fucking listen,Arin.”
I clamped my jaw shut and glared.
“Dallin, the self-proclaimed god of this world before it became the shatterlands, sealed the font of all the combined essences, claiming it was too dangerous a power to be toyed with. But in truth, he kept it for himself.”
Razak was surely mad. None of this made any sense. Yet, Lark had not moved or called out or so much as looked my way. He knelt, statue-still. Real, but not. Where was his smirk, his swagger, his fire? Where was my Lark?
“You needn’t worry. Zayan is fine.” Razak laughed, stepping behind Lark. He stroked Lark’s neck, fingers dancing, and I knew he’d had him on his knees like this before, forcing Lark to do all the things Razak’s horrible mind could conjure. “Perhaps even improved. He’s far moreobedientlike this.”
“Lark, please answer me.” I needed something, anything, a sign he was all right.
“He’s gone,” Soleil rasped. “The scales of balance have tipped too far. This is the beginning.”
Gone. Gone where? What did that even mean?
Razak tutted at the queen. “A demonstration, I think. I’ve been waiting a very long time for this. Watch, Love’s prince, Warlord Draven, the administrator—yes, I know who you are, Danyal—and whatever that woman’s name is, you at the back there.”
“Noemi. I stabbed you in War, remember?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Oh yes. Thank you for that, Noemi. Your attack improved the believability of my incarceration. Now watch as a new god rises.”
He thrust into the air behind Soleil and snapped his fingers together. Soleil threw her head back, let out a shrill scream, and her body arched. Razak hadn’t touched her, but her wail spoke of a visceral agony. The scream came from inside of her and rose in an ear-splitting shriek.
Razak snatched his hand back, Soleil jerked, the cry cut off, and the Queen of Justice dropped like a sack of rice.
“Soleil?” I ran to her side and touched her shoulder. She breathed; her eyes were open, but dull and unseeing. She didn’t respond at all, just stared somewhere far away. Exactly like Lark. “What have you done?”
Razak’s thick laughter swirled around us all. “Oh, nothing really, just removed her passion. Without a will to live, you are nothing. And trust me, Arin, this is all the bitch deserves. The Queen of Justice saw to it my father rotted beneath her feet. I have long awaited the moment when her callous actions would be the catalyst for my glorious ascension.”
“Enough!” I snapped, and shot to my feet. “You’re not a god, Razak. You’re a sad, broken boy of a man, lashing out because his father abandoned him. Stop it, Razak. Go back to Pain, sit on your throne, and make your council dance for you, if they’ll have you. Your insanity ends here.”
Razak blinked, then spat an unimpressed laugh. “Dance, you say? What a grand idea. Zayan?” He clicked his fingers. “My beloved brother. Won’t you dance for your precious Prince of Love? And make it good. It’ll be the last performance of yours he’ll ever see.”
Lark climbed to his feet, but his movements were jagged and wooden. He began to dance to silent music; he spun and dipped and swayed, pirouetting around us, and every glimpse of his face showed a flat, empty mask. But his eyes, those were the worst of it. His eyes were empty, soulless pits of darkness. His passion, his delight, and his love for dance, for music, for life… It was all gone.Taken.
It was worse than had he been killed.
“No, stop… Razak, stop!” I turned on the spot, tracking Lark’s every step. This was wrong. This wasn’t Lark. He wouldn’t want this. Razak controlled him. It felt like the worst betrayal of all, like a violation of Lark’s most precious self—as though Razak had stolen his soul.
Razak laughed and Lark spun, pirouetted, stepped, and swayed—a puppet dancing on the end of Razak’s strings.
“You’re a dead man, Razak,” Draven threatened. “Lark, stop!”
Lark dipped in front of me, almost close enough to reach out and grab. And then—by some miracle—as he rose, mischief sparkled in his beautiful eyes.
