Page 12 of A Broken Ember

“I said my slave requires healing. Shall I bring her to your infirmary to await your attention?”

I pressed my lips together and nodded curtly. My heart ached for the woman. “Great, thank you, my Prince.” Her accompanying wink made me recoil internally. Oriana grasped my arm, pulling me away from Claeg’s room. Her grip was possessive and should have bothered me, but my only thought was for Claeg. He will be okay until dawn, I consoled myself, biting my lip for comfort.

In the infirmary, I found Thyia in a heated discussion with Calian, my father’s Second and favorite to fuck, next to his Chosen. “What is it?” I asked, forcefully extracting myself from Oriana’s vice-like hold. I knew full well what the fuss was about, but they didn’t know that.

“Enid disappeared,” Thyia answered.

I grunted, making my eyes widen as if in shock. “Nobody has seen her?”

Thyia shook her head, pain twisting her face. It made me feel guilty for keeping the truth from her. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. “Does my father know?” She winced, and my guilt flared. She deserved to know that I planned to Challenge our De Vita. Soon. I made a note to tell her.

“Of course. I told him immediately upon learning,” Calian snapped.

“Good. He will handle it. Don't worry, Thyia. I'm sure she will turn up somewhere. Maybe Ercan knows?” I suggested lightly, making her flinch again. Her eyes drifted to the corner, and mine followed. I bit my lip to prevent it from quivering. My friend lay moaning along the wall amongst the other sick draconis. My heart fell.

“I have already questioned him, and you won’t believe what I found out,” Calian reported flippantly, making my gut churn. I knew how he questioned draconis. I rushed to Ercan’s side. My knees collapsed, and I took his hand in mine. His ring finger ended in a bloody stump, taken by Calian. His violet eyes fluttered open with a groan. Marks that had obviously been made with a whip covered him. Ragged, raised skin marred his sun-darkened flesh. His back was flayed beyond recognition. The only part untouched was the dreadful brands which destroyed that crescent upon his neck and palms. There was so much of Claeg in him it made me shudder. A memory of how I had found Ercan struck me—defeated and on the bridge of giving up. He was the first Circulus I had ever met and at the time I hadn’t appreciated their clan’s mercy. I pleaded with him to give life another chance after he had lost it all. I gave him my protection. The cost of that promise… had been high. It stripped me of my innocence every time a Circulus was captured… it was my fault their wings were taken. And so many wings were taken since the hunt for Hen began, despite Ercan begging me to have them spared. But if I fought for any other, my father reminded me Ercan would pay the price.

“Prince Anastasius,” he murmured. I nodded, tears threatening to spill as I took in the shredded flesh. “Thank you,” he breathed, tears clouding eyes so similar to Claeg’s. I had never seen ones so remarkable.

“I'm sorry,” I replied. I had failed to protect him. He shouldn’t be thanking me. His chest was covered with freshly tended wounds, but he didn't seem to notice. His face was relaxed, his expression calm and collected as he closed his eyes again and let out a long breath. We stayed like that for a few moments before his breathing became easy and even, indicating he had fallen asleep. I didn't move from his side, remaining vigilant, grieving with him, guarding him.

Calian wouldn't get another chance to sink his claws into my friend.

Chapter 11: Claeg

I woke up to the oppressive grip of weakness clutching my spine. The linens no longer smelled of lavender and citrus, but rather they were soaked with a sticky fluid that exuded by my neck and palms. It was thick and viscous, the smell of carrion on a humid day. I didn’t know how wounds behaved, but the heat and pain coming from the burns couldn’t be a good sign.

A knock at the door made me curse. Before I could even think about how I would hide my weakness, Anastasius burst in with a tired smile, wearing the same thing as yesterday. His face twisted into a grimace as he was assaulted by my stench, brows knit together as he rushed to me.

“Give me your palms,” he demanded, holding out his hands. I scowled but obliged him. His scarred skin felt rough against mine as he inspected the oozing flesh. He hummed, my eyes drawn to where he bit his lip, eyebrows lowered in thought. “They are infected.” I frowned. Anastasius glanced over at the tub of dirty water and made a disgusted face. He muttered something incomprehensible under his breath, but I got the impression he was exasperated by me. Anastasius shook his head, his lovely dark locks tightly braided down his back. He smelled faintly of spiced citrus. It was comforting, hinting at my home while simultaneously reminding me that I was far from it.

“I shouldn’t fault you for what you do not know.” I grimaced. He clearly saw I was weak. “I came to bring you to begin your training, but we will have to address these first.” He sighed and motioned to my wounds. I studied him, wondering if he was irritated by me. I would rather be dead than an inconvenience. Fuck my mission: I wasn’t about to become a burden. The idea repulsed me. Anyone who had to rely on others for help was regarded as a weakness. A strain on the clan. If you couldn’t rely on those around you to take care of themselves, what good were they to their Circle?

“Do not let my weakness inconvenience you. Bring me to train or kill me now,” I demanded, pulling my palms out of his gentle grasp. Fuck being submissive. I wouldn’t become a weakness.

Anastasius shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Will you stop being so stubbornly Circulus for just a moment?” He was definitely irritated, worse, he had seen the truth. I needed to adjust my behavior or risk compromising my mission. He had to believe that I no longer considered myself Circulus. Yet something about him made me show my true skin. I hated lying to him. It felt like a betrayal to myself and him.

“Apologies, Prince.” I dipped my head, hoping that he would forget my pointedly Circulus behavior. His eyes lightened a little, their shaded gray no longer clouded by an oncoming storm. In an instant, the passion he had summoned was funneled into levity as humor lit in his eyes. I didn’t dare ask what he found amusing and risk showing my naiveté.

“Come with me. I shall heal you before your training.” The young prince pushed up from where he had sat on the bed. The blankets fell away from where they had gathered around my hips, revealing my nakedness. I caught his eyes flick to my nudity before he quickly averted his gaze and flushed. I smirked. He turned toward the door and not so subtly adjusted his trousers, which clung low on his hips, revealing a delicious V. The sight struck me with lust, and it took great effort to keep my cock uninterested. The young prince found me attractive, pleasing the Ruptor.

I leaned down, picking up my only clothing while Anastasius secretly trailed the movements. I gave him a flirtatious smile, making him flush even more. Our eyes met as I pulled on the trousers, adjusting my semi-hard cock as he had done. He didn’t say anything as I straightened, holding my hands loosely at my sides. Neither of us spoke as he led me back through De Vita’s castle. A man with missing fingers followed us like a shadow. I pretended not to notice how Anatasius bristled at his presence. Instead, I used my refreshed eyes to discreetly take in things that I had missed last night, like how he sauntered through the place with an air of privilege. The people respected him. Most of them just bowed their heads low as they passed but others reached out to touch him, one couple going so far as to murmur a prayer and ask for his blessing to be given to their unborn child. He responded with a stony nod, each bit of praise making his fists tighten at his sides. The couple still gobbled up every bit of attention he graced them with, their eyes lighting up with gratitude as if presented with a feast.

We traveled up a spiraling staircase. The higher we went, the more light filtered in from little windows. The sun was warm where it met my body, making me ache to feel it on my wings. I wanted to fly through the clouds and feel the breeze through my talons. But I could only guess when I would be granted that freedom again. The idea that it could be a while made my gut twist. I needed to fly to sort out my thoughts. Like what it meant that my wounds were infected, and what was intended with my Selection.

Thankfully, the stalker remained outside when Anastasius led me into an open room with an arched ceiling that opened up onto a grand balcony, clearly intended for draconis to land upon. Striking creatures with wings of fire and claws of blood had been etched into the roof, walls, and flooring. I noted the surroundings and position. This would be a good place to infiltrate their stronghold and gain easy access to their prince. Another weakness.

The room was excessively grand even for a prince. The floor was warm despite the smooth stone. It reminded me of the warmth of blood flowing over my hands every time I was called to complete a Circle. A fire burned in the hearth, around which a couple of cushioned lounge chairs were positioned. Its foreign structure was designed more for comfort than practicality. Anastasius motioned for me to take a seat in one of them. His shoulders relaxed as he strode about the room. The Prince wandered over to a wall where dozens of shelves contained little bottles of substances with a variety of odd smells. But there was one scent that prevailed above the rest. It came from a couple of slender sticks that burned alongside the four-poster bed. Woodsy citrus, rather than his usual spiced honey. The smell of home. An attempt to get me to relax and let down my guard.

Anastasius tinkered around the wall of shelves, collecting bowls and placing them on a tray. Eventually, he gathered everything he needed and knelt before me, his dark eyelashes flicking up to meet my eyes. I couldn’t help but imagine the other things he could do to me on his knees. He grabbed my arm, pulling my palm closer to him. Anastasius hummed, snagging his lip between his teeth.

“I need to clean out the wound beds before I can dress them,” he murmured. I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to do, so I just nodded. He grabbed a basin of sparkling water and slowly placed my hands in it. I hissed; the water aggravated the wounds, making me want to pull away. Fuck, I had never been so vulnerable or weak. My hands shook, but I forced myself to keep them submerged.

“This is always the worst part,” Anastasius commented quietly as he let my hands soak, his eyes traveling up my chest. After a moment he stood and began tending to the worst of the brands—the one to my neck. This time, I couldn’t help cursing. Fuck, I would rather my Circle be completed than go through this torture. Did that make me weak? The question caught me off guard. Enduring pain wasn’t a sign of strength. The strong didn’t experience pain. We were never weak enough to be exposed to it. I studied Anastasius’ scars. He had undoubtedly experienced great pain, but he didn’t appear weak.

“This should help soothe the pain.” He dipped his finger into a mix, the texture of which was somewhere between a gel and a grainy cream. The salve smelled of him. He generously slathered it onto each broken Circle, instantly providing cooling relief. I moaned: for the first time since receiving the brands, they didn’t burn.

When he was done, the inflammation had already decreased a little and the redness wasn’t as aggressive. “I want to see you daily after your training to redress these wounds. But for today, rest. Explore. Tomorrow, we can begin your training.” He brought the supplies back to the shelf before walking out onto the balcony and dumping the water off the edge.

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