Page 18 of A Broken Ember

I growled, my hand slipping from the ledge above me. The stone shredded my palm, opening the wound more. Now, they were truly painted with blood. De Vita was eager to see me fail, and I was. Blood dripped onto my forehead. Laughter reached my ears, drawing my attention to the side. Oriana had reached the stairwell in her path. “Gods,” I swore and looked up. Janus was scaling the sheer face of the mesa with skillful ease.

I gripped the ledge again, groaning as I strained to pull myself up. It was taking me too long, my whole body trembling as I heaved myself up onto the balcony. It was larger than the rest, jutting out farther, too. I collapsed, my chest heaving and face flush against the stone ground. I couldn’t make it any farther. This was the end. A moan echoed in my chest. His scent overwhelmed me. Even now, when I was ready to admit defeat, he haunted me. A humorless laugh bubbled from within me as I raised my head to look around. A shelving unit was lined along the side, filled with potions. A four poster bed was on the other side, blankets ruffled. A fire simmered in a hearth, coals glimmering. I knew this room. Anastasius’ room.

When I pulled myself up, it was with renewed strength. I could do this. My Circles may be broken, but I was strong. I wiped sweat from my brow and palms. They were raw. The flesh was pink and moist with thick fluid. There was no way I would be able to cling to the rock face without slipping, but I had an idea.

I darted for the edge of the ledge and shifted, finally freeing my wings. I stretched them wide with a roar of satisfaction at the power surging through me. Flapping hard, I brought myself up above the castle and glided over the plateau. Oriana and Janus stood on the other side of the plateau with Anastasius. He was clothed in a robe of silver starlight, a crown of frozen fire sitting upon his head. Even from this distance, he was a beautiful dream. Janus clutched her shoulder, an arrow protruding from it. Between here and there was a field of arrows which littered the rock. One hissed past my shoulder. I hardly flinched as another struck my wing and bounced off harmlessly. Such weak weapons would not harm me in my draconis form.

Aurora appeared beneath me, immediately taking off at a run over the plateau. Arrows whizzed towards her, and she dodged them. I had to make it to Anastasius before her. That was the test. And I had a major advantage in this form, one which hadn’t been forbidden. I just hoped Odon would see it that way. I flew forward, quickly overtaking Aurora.

The archers from above abandoned their attack on Aurora, aiming their weapons my way again at the one spot I was vulnerable—my eyes. They weren’t fast enough. A roar of pain erupted from behind me before a draconis exploded into existence. Aurora had shifted, desperate to succeed. Too late. I reached the end of the platform, landing before Anastasius. My chest heaved as I leveled my eyes with his in a glare of defiance. He smirked at me, light in his eyes.

“I’ve missed your stubbornness,” he mused, resting his palm on my snout. I pressed into him harder, indulging in the contact.

The draconis behind me landed, snarling at me. She whipped her tail around, perhaps wanting to lash me with its spiked barbs, but she wouldn’t dare with her prince at my side. The sound of beating wings drew our attention to the skies, where Odon and the archers resided. The leader landed behind me as we all shifted. Instantly, my body trembled, the exhaustion and pain from my task overwhelming me as the adrenaline rushed out of me. Odon spoke from where he stood by Aurora, but I couldn’t hear him. My eyes were attached to Anastasius. His smile faltered as he looked at me. He sucked on his lip as my vision blurred then went black.

Chapter 18: Anastasius

Claeg collapsed forward, his eyes rolling back. I caught him just before his head crashed against the stone. His body was dead weight in my arms, but I clutched him to my chest like my prized possession. The sight of his neglected body made me want to slay my father where he landed before me, a smug look on his face. As if sensing my rage, Rohit appeared at my side, placing a hand on my shoulder to brace me. Father couldn't be Challenged. Not yet. Not before he finished teaching me the ways of magic. Specifically, the spells to heal. He promised he would after the Choosing, when I had earned it.

I tensed, keeping my chin high in preparation for his outrage at Claeg having succeeded in his trial. I knew my father wouldn't be pleased with how it had been achieved, but it was his loss for not specifying how to ascend the mesa, and he knew it. Still, I didn't have the strength in me to gloat. Not when Claeg was vulnerable in my arms. The need to take him away, to protect him, was stronger than my wrath. For now.

Father growled low before addressing the draconis that had gathered for the remarks on the trial’s results. I drowned him out, all my attention on all the wounds on Claeg’s body. His hands . . . they were beyond raw. I could see bone peaking out from the shredded muscle. The smell of rot assaulted my nose. The infection had worsened, likely setting into his blood. I bristled with rage, my heart slamming against my ears, begging me to release my rage on my father. But I needed him. Now more than ever. Without his touch of healing magic, Claeg may succumb to the wounds.

“Stas . . .” Rohit murmured to me, and I blinked. I was snarling. Luckily, Father had left and the others were paying me little regard in favor of congratulating Janus and Oriana. I looked at my friend; his eyes were filled with sympathy.

“We will take him to my chambers,” I said, pulling on the magic he had restored to me with the necklace. I murmured the words for the spell, and within a moment the three of us were transported there. We brought him over to the bed, laying him down gently on his stomach to reveal his neck. I sucked in a breath. The wound oozed thick, yellow drainage.

Rohit stripped Claeg of his clothes, tossing the flimsy material to the side. With the full extent of Claeg’s injuries on display, my heart cried. I jumped into action, hurrying over to my shelf of potions and instinctively grabbing the one for clotting and blood loss—a metallic-smelling salve. As I smeared it on the wounds, I took in his appearance. The rejected Circulus man was paler than normal, sweat beading on his forehead. His lips were cracked, and blood stained the hair around his nape. The smell coming from him was familiar—one I had experienced before, when my father refused to use the magic to heal me. The scent was acrid, so potent it left a bitter taste in my mouth.

“The infection is bad,” Rohit murmured. “He needs your father’s magic, Stas.” Ro placed a hand on my forearm as I rubbed the salve into what was left of Claeg’s palms.

I nodded, frustration building between my shoulder blades, a ghost of pain. I took a step away from the bed, letting Rohit take over. “By all the gods, I hate him for this,” I hissed. “He knows he has me under his control. I can’t fight him, Ro, and I can’t protect those that mean the most to me. First Ercan—” My body trembled at the thought of my mentor, my friend. I should tell him about his son. I cringed, pacing the room. He has the right to know his son is here and dying. I walked to the door, praying that it wasn’t too late.

“Go. I will take care of your Selected. No harm will come to him,” Rohit replied with a wave of his hand, where he wore a ring that matched the one on my necklace. It contained magic, too, although not much. Not that it would help us much now, not without the key to healing which Hen had entrusted to my father before he betrayed her. Father kept a tight lock on who was given magic and the knowledge on how to access it. Ercan wasn't considered important enough, but I’ve taught him everything I’ve learned. He knew full well how to use magic but didn’t dare reveal that fact in front of anyone outside our small circle.

I nodded my thanks before testing the door, unsurprised to find Calian guarding it. I glared, daring him to stop me from seeking help for Claeg. He bared his teeth but didn’t stand in my way when I pushed past him. My heart pounded with every step as I darted through the hallways leading to the infirmary. Thyia could convince my father to help.

Luckily, most of the draconis were still celebrating the Selected who had succeeded in completing the first trial on the plateau. Although I doubted anyone celebrated Claeg. The thought irked me, but I brushed it away for now. Once he was my Chosen and Odon was no longer De Vita, things would change around here: when I was De Vita, the clan would listen to me. Hopefully. Right now, I was just the crown prince, the heir whose curse was considered a blessing.

When I reached the infirmary, my heart jolted. Father spoke from within in a heated tone. I grimaced, not having expected to meet him so soon, but didn’t turn around. I had to convince him to help. Securing healing for Claeg was worth the confrontation bound to come anyway. Better it be sooner, and establish what little authority I could, than later. I pushed open the door, the smell of the sickly familiar to my nose.

“My son!” Odon boomed the moment I entered. I swallowed the thick lump in my throat and met his eyes.

“Father.” I noted that he stood with Thyia. They were huddled in the corner behind the healer’s desk, which was covered in varying sizes of potion bottles and tonics. Behind them there were shelves with more ingredients not unlike the ones I so frequently used upon myself back in my room, the area just less cluttered. I quickly scanned the room, finding no new patients, but I didn’t breathe easily until I locked eyes with Ercan. He was up, walking among the others, handing out cups of water and fresh blankets. He gave me a bright smile, lighting up like the dawn. Gone was the death that had hovered around him, replaced by strength. But I couldn’t show my relief without revealing it to my father, so I just nodded. He seemed to comprehend my intention and went back to his task as if we hadn’t just exchanged an entire conversation with one look. I’m okay, he said. I’ve been looking after them for you.

“Come join us. I was just discussing a theory of mine with Thyia.” Father waved me over, his eyes suspiciously excited. I cautiously walked over, each step pounding in time with my heart. “Anastasius, my boy.” He ushered me closer, clamping a strong arm around my shoulders. And just like that, I was completely under his control. Small. “Have you noticed anything unusual about your Selected?” He gripped me tightly, hissing in my ear. I forced myself to not tremble at the implied threat.

I swallowed my request, anxiety pulling at my gut. Pushing down the fear, I urged my heart to remain calm. He hummed.

“No, Father,” I murmured, bowing my head slightly in submission despite the hatred that flared within me in doing so. I could practically hear Ercan’s protests. Father turned, dismissing me with his back, but I couldn’t let that be the end of things. Claeg still needed his healing magic. By the gods, I hated being reliant on him, and he knew it. “Father, Eleos is in need of healing magic. I fear he will not survive without it,” I stressed.

He pursed his lips, frowning, before murmuring to Thyia, the words quiet but still intelligible. “Continue seeing to it that he lives; I won’t waste magic on the Circulus traitor.” My heart sank. Telling Thyia this wouldn’t help him anymore than telling me to fuck off. Anything Thyia could do, I had already done and would continue to do. I bit my lip, barely containing a growl.

“Father, please. He is my Selected; do you not care for his well-being?”

“It is no fault of mine that you choose someone so weak. You are lucky I don’t Save him now. Instead, I will humor you until he fails, but not a moment longer. Mark my words: Eleos,” he spat, “will be Saved along with your pet.” He jerked his head over to where Ercan crouched next to Theo who was playing in the corner with his blanket.

My heart squeezed, my fists balling at my sides in barely-contained rage. I nodded and left, feeling Ercan’s eyes on me the entire way. It wasn’t a surprise when he caught up to me in the hallway not far from the infirmary. I kept walking, not in the mood to stop and chat even though I had told myself I would tell him about Claeg. The will to do that wavered after speaking with my father. Besides, I knew everything he was going to say. I needed to push my father more, stand up to him—embody De Vita. He wouldn’t even care for the threat to his wings; he just wanted me to stand up for myself.

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