Page 20 of A Broken Ember

“Fuck.” There were so many.

“Odon is sending me back out on patrol.” Rohit’s shoulders slumped in defeat, and I ached for my friend. He twisted his hair between his fingers.

“When?” I asked between mouthfuls.

“Now,” he answered between his teeth, his frustration clear. Neither of us could protest my father’s orders without raising his suspicions higher. I raised an eyebrow. Him returning only to be sent out again was already unusual, but my father was desperate to find Hen before the magic she left behind ran out or she fell into Circulus' hands. I prayed that she had given up her quest for revenge on her brother and found peace somewhere safe. I doubted it based on her final words to me.

“Promise me you will take care of yourself, too, Stas,” Rohit urged. I mumbled an assent with a half-hearted shrug. He glared at me, seeing right through my poor attempt to appease him. His palm cupped my cheek, and he pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I’ll be back,” he whispered, lips lingering against my skin. My body relaxed into his touch, guilt clawing at my stomach for indulging in the innocent action of my friend. When he left me a moment later, I swallowed the lump in my throat, turning back to my Selected.

Chapter 19: Claeg

I screamed, the sound absorbed by the blackness engulfing me. Please, I begged. Kill me. Let me die. My pleas echoed ones my father had once begged of me. But now I understood: I didn't want to live like this—a flightless bird. Powerless. Weak. I needed to fly. I needed to feel the wind beneath my wings and the warmth of the sun on my scales.

Chains weighed me down, wrapping around my torso, feet, and hands. I needed to break them. The darkness hid everything from me, but if I could what chained me… perhaps then I could get free. I grasped the heavy metal between my palms, a sharp pain making me stumble, but I held on as my body slammed into the ground. The air whooshed out of my lungs like a windstorm. A pathetic whimper crackled in my chest. I placed my hands on the ground, searching for the other end.

My heart pumped fear through my vessels. Where did the chains end? I gasped, dropping the chain to clutch my neck. Sharp, shooting pains consumed me.

“Claeg!” someone yelled, but I couldn't see them in the void. There was just… nothing. My mouth opened to call out to them, but a dying whine fell out instead.

What was happening to me? Whose prisoner was I?

I thrashed, pulling against my chains, but their weight was missing. Instead, an ache throbbed in my palms. A pleasant scent wafted into my nose—lavender and spice. Reality punctured my delirious state like a wave crashing upon the cliffs.

Anastasius.

I blinked, squinting. Light filtered in through the dark haze in my mind. My palms were wrapped in white cloth. Intricate braids flowed from my head. The scent of freshness clung to them. A cloth was wrapped around my neck, which I presumed was identical to the ones around my palms. Wood crackled in the fireplace. I looked to the side, observing Anastasius sitting before the hearth, wringing his hands. Unlike my fresh clothing and bandages, he wore what he had at the trial. I frowned, recalling what I could of the events. I remembered his hand on my snout but then nothing. Perhaps this was still a dream. Or maybe I had succumbed to my wounds in the bowels of my enemy’s heart.

I swallowed. Anastasius jerked his head up. His shaded-moon eyes widened. “Eleos!” He jolted to his feet before darting over and crouching before me. “Are you truly awake?” He bit his lip, which I noticed was mangled and bloody as if he had gnawed through it. I groaned in response, wanting to ask what had happened, but my tongue wouldn’t comply. “Don’t speak. Rest, recover. My father . . .” He scowled, marring those perfect features. I wanted to reach up and wipe the frown off his face but hesitated, pushing myself into a sitting position instead, wincing at the pressure on my palms. I remembered the way my muscle had glistened around exposed bone during the trial.

A rasp escaped my raw throat when I tried to speak. He held a flask to my lips. “Drink.”

I did as he ordered, the liquid burning down my throat. The water was laced with something. But there were easier ways to kill me than poison, including letting me die from my wounds. I sputtered, choking on the drop. Each cough sent pain rushing through me, but as he went to pull away, I gripped his wrist, holding it there.

“You’ll aspirate if you overwhelm your body before it's ready,” he said. He tugged away again, but I held strong, surprising myself with my strength.

“What happened?” I mumbled, my tongue thick in my mouth. I swallowed another sip and cursed when a coughing fit proved him right.

Anastasius winced, his matted hair plastered to his skin. Dark rings circled his eyes, darkening their irises. A haunting shadow flickered over them. “The infection worsened.” His fingers caressed my jaw, tucking a stray braid behind my ear. I shook my head.

“The trial . . .” I couldn’t force out any more than that.

“You passed, Eleos,” the prince replied, understanding my weak question.

I cocked an eyebrow at him in disbelief. Hadn’t I cheated by using my draconis?

He shook his head, sighing softly. “Each of the trials are designed to test you in multiple ways. On the surface, this was a simple endurance test but underneath . . . every test has a shortcut, so to speak. The others assumed Odon wanted them to climb in human form, but he never specified that they had to. The next trial will not be as easy.”

I scoffed. What I had gone through had hardly been easy. I couldn’t help wondering what I was doing here. Nothing had gone as expected. Each day my life here became more difficult, and the prince was hinting that things would only get worse. But if I succeeded in the Selection . . . what would happen? I needed to know. Would all of this pain be worth following my Janardan’s orders—to discover their intentions in the Neutral Strip and find their weaknesses? The answer should be an obvious yes, but... I yawned despite the sleep I had just woken from.

“How long . . .” I swallowed, my voice failing.

“Shhh, Eleos. Rest. We can talk more later,” Anastasius coaxed me, but I frowned.

“What happens after the trials?” I rasped. The prince snorted, his expression lightening. A heaviness pulled me down, my body demanding to sleep, but I brushed it off. Whatever it was also numbed my pain.

“So full of stubborn Circulus confidence, I see, even while laying half-dead in my bed.” His light laughter tugged at my heart. I glared at him. When his gaze met mine, his eyes darkened and his teeth punctured his lip. “When this is done, I will make you mine in every way known to De Vita and Circulus,” he growled, lowering himself so that we shared a breath. My breathing hitched, betraying me. His closeness reminded me of the last time we were intimate. I desperately wanted to close the distance between our lips, but exhaustion pulled at me again, threatening to take me into sleep.

“What . . .” I began as my eyes fell closed.

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