Page 86 of Ocean of Silver

“I’m here to collect you,” he said. That’s when I noticed the chain dangling from his hand. It wasn’t a necklace this time, but shackles. He moved swiftly, clamping it around my two zeroes before I could react, but my powers didn’t sizzle out and die. They weren’t Alluse shackles. “I apologize for the intrusiveness,” he continued as he tightened the lock and pulled, “but these are the King’s orders.”

“So what? I’m a prisoner again?” I challenged. I needed some clue as to what was going on, as to what I was about to walk in on.

Prince Arcane paused long enough to meet my gaze. He looked so much like Dovelyn. They both had slim figures and always looked elegant and well put together. Their shiny silver hair was sleek down their mid backs, not a stray out of place. His eyes were the same piercing silver as hers too. They were both cold and missing the crystal blue of Tezya’s. It was what separated Tezya from his siblings—his eyes and his brutal scar across his face.

“You were nevernota prisoner. I don’t know what notion my brother led you to believe, but you are not a Luxian citizen.” He pulled on the chains and dragged me barefoot through the halls, not allowing me time to dress.

My wrists were raw from being held taut by the time we arrived at the King’s chambers. Arcane stood straighter, taking a minute to collect himself before he gained the courage to knock on his father’s door.

“Come in,” the King bellowed behind the thick wood. Arcane shoved me in first. Flashes of silver caught my eye. First, the King’s gaze, then the dagger he held in his hand.

I found myself searching the shadows of the room, wondering if Athler was blending into the dark. I shuddered as the feeling of being watched ran through me, and I knew he was here even if I couldn’t see him. Maybe it was my enhancement finding his powers. Maybe I could train myself to see what abilities were calling to me.

“Bring her to me,” the King ordered his son. Arcane pressed my chains into the King’s waiting hands. I balled my fist together, attempting to hide my new cut. Did anyone other than Dovelyn see Tezya’s scar? I didn’t know what the King would do if he put two and two together and realized that we initiated the bond last night, and I didn’t want to find out.

I winced as the King slowly dragged the dagger down my arm before replacing the blade with a goblet and, to my horror, rested it under the cut he just made. I watched as my blood poured into the glass.

When it filled to the top, he dropped my chains and brought my blood up to his lips. Slurping penetrated the silence as he downed every last drop.

The Lux King smiled, blood-stained teeth on full display, as he turned to Arcane. “Bring her down to the training grounds. We have a demonstration to make.”

* * *

Arcane heldmy chains as we were forced to walk behind the Lux King. And all I could do was stare at the back of his silver head and fantasize about murdering him.

I hated him. I hated him more than Kole, and if you asked me prior to Tezya’s punishment, I wouldn’t have thought that was possible. I couldn’t fathom how someone could be so cruel to their own children, to everyone around them. How he was so sadistic and got away with it. And he’s been running Lux forcenturies. How many Advenians have suffered because of him? How did he treat his citizens if that was what he did to his own flesh and blood?

I looked over at Arcane, the chains were taut between us. He was walking next to me with a stiff back, appearance pristine, and his head held high—he didn’t have a single hair out of line.

I had no idea where he was taking me or what the King meant by a demonstration, but a pit was already forming in my stomach. This couldn’t be good.

I didn’t attempt to make a run for it or try and break free. We were surrounded by Luxian soldiers. They formed a semicircle around us with the King leading the way. My chains weren’t Alluse, I could still feel my powers, but I didn’t delude myself into thinking my water abilities were strong enough. Not yet. I was determined to train even if these chains meant I was a prisoner again. I would find a way to practice, to get stronger. I just had to bid my time.

We left the castle through a side entrance. I had no idea where we were, but I knew it wasn’t the back gardens by the jungle or the front gates that led toward the sprawling city.

We were walking on a straight, paved pathway with green grass on either side. The path was plain, not decorated in the bright colors of the city or the wealth of the castle. We were walking further and further from the city, further from the bay and the ocean, further from people, and it had my anxiety skyrocketing.

I was sweating. I was still wearing Tezya’s shirt and pants that he tied for me with eight knots in order to keep them up on my hips. He’d given me his clothes after the bath—so I didn’t have to put back on my bloody, torn slip. But I’d been so preoccupied that I never even thought to change. I was so worried about Peter, and what I overheard from Tezya and Dovelyn’s conversation, that I never even thought about what I was wearing—until now.

Until I was tripping over the hem—even with the pants running short on Tezya’s calves, they were dragging across the pavement for me—I was trying not to trip or have them not fall down past my waist.

Arcane gave me a side eye, noting my struggle. My breath halted as he assessed my outfit. I saw as he made the connection. He knew my clothes belonged to his brother. I thought he was going to say something to the King, but instead, he loosened his grip on the chains. With the extra slack, I was able to hold the top of my pants up so they didn’t fall off.

I looked up at the King, his form now striding down the path. I was just starting to make out a large clearing ahead, hidden behind a thick line of trees in the distance. He was too preoccupied with drinking my blood earlier to notice my appearance, and I prayed that he never did. Would Tezya get in more trouble if the King found out? If he realized whose clothes I was wearing?

My heart stopped when we finally passed the trees and a large, grassy field was before us. It was a training ground, but there was no resemblance to the muddy, transformative domes that Brock trained me on.

The entire Luxian army was waiting for us, looking like they were ready for battle. I was overwhelmed by the sheer mass of them. Males in matching dark leather uniforms with the sun symbol printed across their chests spanned for miles. Only the outline of the sun wasn’t golden like the soldiers stationed in the castle had on. All these men had black etchings for the design. It blended in so well against the leather that I could only see it if I was staring at their chests.

All the uniforms had the sleeves cut off right before their wrists, exposing their four and five brands, marking them as powerful. They were all lethal, not only in abilities but in strength. It dawned on me then—Tezya’s status—that he trained all these men. Trained, commanded, and fought with them. These were the soldiers who killed all the rebels. I scanned them with a newfound scrutiny. Did all of them share the same belief as the King, or did some feel the way Tezya did?

My eyes halted on white hair. Tezya was already on the field.

He immediately turned to face me as if he knew the moment I arrived. His eyes scoured me, scanning me from head to toe. His jaw tensed when he saw the chains held by his brother.

He was dressed in the same uniform. And I realized I’d never seen him in it before. I had only ever known him as the Tezya who trained me in private and took me to the mortal world. I never saw him as the commander, as the Fire Prince. I could envision how his reputation started. Besides the fact that word spread that he left the battlefield in flames, he fit the part. He looked fearsome and ruthless and daunting.

I never would have known what he suffered through just hours before by looking at him now. He didn’t show any outward signs of being in pain, but for some reason, I could tell. I had no idea if it was the blood bond we started or just the fact that I had been forced to watch him stab himself over and over again for twenty-eight hours that I studied him so thoroughly. I had learned what each of his facial expressions meant. I now understood what was behind his composed mask when he was in front of the King.

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