Page 22 of A Broken Ember

“How did you end up here if you’ve never thought for yourself?” The question was innocent, but it made me cringe. Lies: that was how I was here, sitting next to a man who was supposed to be my enemy. Those lines, however, were continually blurring.

“I told you: I wanted to live,” I growled. He hummed, contemplating my answer as if he didn’t fully believe me. I would have to tread carefully in the future or risk the truth coming to light. He would hate that he had Selected me if he knew the truth. Perhaps he would even Save me himself, whatever that meant. He stood up, putting the subject to rest for now, but I was not deluded: this would come up again. His questions made it clear that he suspected something was amiss.

“Come, Eleos. Let me show you how De Vita live and heal your soul.” He held a hand out to me, but I ignored it. Calian would be back soon, and I didn’t favor getting on his bad side. I got up on my own despite the difficulty made by two injured hands. Anastasius gestured to the open air.“Flying will be good for you. Shift, Eleos,” he coaxed, but I shook my head, for once denying myself the pleasure as I studied him. Standing by his side, the condition of his clothes was apparent—stiff and dry with blood. My blood? I crossed my arms over my chest.

“When was the last time you bathed, Prince?”

His eyebrows pinched together. He shrugged, his cheeks flushing a deep red. He squirmed as I glared at him, unwilling to let this go. I wasn’t too sure why, but the thought of him neglecting himself to care for me didn’t sit well. “Bathe, Stas. You need to take care of yourself, too,” I whispered, unable to withhold the concern in my voice. I beckoned him toward the tub. His shoulders caved as he gave in, but he refused my hand, probably because it was still healing. I dropped my hand and followed him back into his chambers, noting the intricate patterns he waved his hands in curiously.

The impossible scent of woods and fresh oranges filled the room, replacing the spice that the wind brought in from the wavy dunes of sand with the smell of home. I let out a low groan, instantly relaxing a little. Anastasius gave me a knowing smile over his shoulder. “Join me?” he asked as he undressed, tossing the soiled clothing to a corner of the room, where a carving of a winged human was engraved into the wall. I studied the peculiar creature for a moment. It didn’t belong in this world: it felt out of place, just like me. Anastasius stepped into my line of sight, bringing his flaccid cock into view. Even in this state he was thick. I licked my lips, naughty ideas flashing through me. Fuck Calian. I wouldn’t let a weakness like fear stop me.

Slowly, I dragged my eyes up to meet Anastasius’, letting him see the fire in them. I dipped my head, letting him lead me to the tub before guiding me into its perfectly warm water. I groaned at the warmth, letting it soak into my skin, but being careful to keep my bandages dry. Anastasius quickly followed me with a few cloths, and I noticed his sex had grown stiff and long. I smirked, pushing myself to straddle him so that our chests were pressed together, our lengths touching down below.

“Eleos…” Anastasius breathed as I hovered above him. My eyes locked on his lips. I wanted to take them into my mouth and taste. I growled at barriers keeping me from feeling him skin to skin. Hooking my fingers beneath the edges of the wrap on my dominant hand, I began to pull. “Don’t!” Anastasius protested, but it was too late. I tossed the bandage aside and took the cloth he clutched in his hands with a triumphant smirk. Slowly, I washed the grime from his body, scrubbing his chest, shoulders—everywhere but where his body demanded I touch him. After finishing with his hands I pressed a kiss to his fingertips.

“Eleos . . .” he tried again, but I silenced him with my lips.

Our mouths collided, and everything I had felt last time we had kissed came rushing back to me. This prince . . . he was made for me. I groaned into his mouth as he deepened the kiss, rutting against me. His hands came to my waist, pulling me flush to him. The position was awkward in the water, but I didn’t care, too caught up in passion. Every stroke of his tongue and nip of his teeth confirmed he felt what I did—there was a fire between us. It may be broken and dark, but even embers were still hot. My chest heaved. How could I deny this beautiful being anything? I wanted to obey his every command. But I had to stop this before I broke him too. We couldn’t both be broken.

Before I could do anything, he pulled away.

“You’re still healing,” Anatasius remarked, gesturing toward my hand that had gone limp against his damp chest. I frowned. What did that have to do with anything? “We shouldn’t do this,” he explained, and the realization hit me: he believed I was weak. That was why he didn’t want me. The thought speared into me like a wave crashing upon the jagged cliffs back at home. It tossed me around, tearing me up inside. His hand pressed against my chest, and I stilled, my body stiffening. His touch lit a new flame within me, one of red-hot anger. I jerked away, splashing the water over the edge of the clawfoot tub in my scramble to get distance myself from him. It was like the water had burned me with how fast I jumped out of it.

“Eleos!” Anastasius exclaimed, sitting up in the tub. I spun around, showing him my back. He would not see how he had wounded me. He would not see the tears that threatened to spill. My heart splintered knowing I could never Entwine with him. I was here to destroy him. I quickly dried off, ignoring the swish of the water as Anastasius followed me out of the bathtub.

“You are right, Prince,” I bit out. I was weak. I pulled on my tunic and made my way to the balcony. I needed to fly, to get these feelings off my chest and out of my body.

“Don’t leave,” Anastasius begged, his voice trembling and vulnerable. I ignored his pleas, striding out into the fresh air. Even the open space didn’t loosen the tightness in my chest. I needed to get out of here. “Please, Eleos.”

That was the last thing I heard before I shifted and flew off into the falling sun.

The moon rose, and with it came a cold caress. At night, the desert wasn’t generous with warmth. Thankfully, in draconis I could tolerate weather better than my human form. So, I flew late into the night, letting the Ruptor guide me. At some point, a pair of draconis found me and mirrored my movements from afar. Calian’s minions. I ignored them in favor of brooding.

Anastasius made me weak. Worse, I was still drawn to the prince. He had me under his spell. My body wasn’t mine to command. I blinked, letting the thought wash over me. None of that mattered here, among the stars. It was home. Not in the Circulus stronghold, but in the wind as I basked in the scents it delivered to me. The sky was mine. Fucking mine.

A contented roar tingled the back of my throat, aching to erupt from my warmed jaws. I let it loose, the sound echoing off of the mesas below me, amplifying and encompassing me. I let it roll over me again and again, appreciating the cadence of my voice in this form. It was raw, primal, strong. The guttural sound pleased the Ruptor, making me purr with satisfaction.

Flying had always been my way of decompressing . . . healing, in a way. After completing my mother’s Circle and abandoning father in the Neutral Strip, I had spent many days in the air or buried in Sivert’s pert ass.

My eyes fell closed, the thoughts of my parents grounding me even thousands of feet above the ground. I gasped. My dragon form was too small for the feelings contained within. My scales were too tight, compressing my heart. My wings were weighted down by a thousand stones pelting their thick arches. An anguished cry rumbled from deep within my chest, a sorrowful melody of my deepest lament. My heart raced, desperate to find space for the feelings bursting from within. It would never find what it sought because even in the sky chains still bound me.

Chapter 20: Anastasius

How had I messed up so thoroughly? My heart begged me to follow Claeg into the sky, but my mind told me he needed space. So, I stayed even though it was nearly excruciating to remain in my room. For a while I paced, waiting for him to return so that I could apologize and beg for his forgiveness. When the sun started to rise, it was clear he wasn’t returning anytime soon, or if he had, he wasn’t coming back here. So, I left in search of my father. He was likely in bed, but I didn’t care. I owed it to the Circulus to stop the abductions. Every time another slave was taken in to be Saved . . . the light left their eyes, just as the light had left Claeg’s. I couldn’t bear to see that look in my Selected’s eyes . . . a look so lost, so broken.

I marched through the castle, its halls remarkably quiet at the early hour. Even the infirmary was quiet when I peeked in on my way past. My father’s chambers were located on the opposite side of the mesa, making it a long trek, but it gave me time to plan what to say. Surely, the gods would be displeased with the number of slaves he had taken. The last time a De Vita god had been displeased was prior to my birth, but I had heard the stories of hardship, death, and a curse.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I nearly missed the woodsy scent that flooded my nostrils, reminiscent of Claeg, but it wasn’t him. The musk was mixed with old spice that could only be obtained through long exposure to the Sand Eye. Ercan. The realization hit me moments before the thick oak door swung open, revealing my friend.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice coming out colder than I’d intended. We hadn’t spoken in what felt like ages, and that was its own agony.

“I am not here for you,” he replied plainly. His answer bewildered me. And then it hit me: he had come from my father’s chambers. Sudden fear attacked me, making me tremble as Ercan pushed past me without stopping.

“Stop!” I cried, knowing he would obey my order. His whole body went unnaturally still. He didn’t speak, forcing me to find words. “Did my father . . . did he . . .” I winced, unable to voice the rest of the sentence. Did he touch you?

He had forced himself upon others before, claiming it was his gift and right as De Vita. Many of them were the Circulus he had taken prisoner over the last few moon turns. Most of them were now dead, having requested I complete their Circle rather than face the humiliation of returning to their clan. My gut knotted. Any time I tried to confront my father about his vile habits, I faced his wrath. He would never touch me. I was immune to pain, but others were not. The magic he already held such a tight grip on became a rare luxury, even for those who suffered greatly. It was my one regret of letting my friend go—not asking how to heal first.

“I’m fine, Prince,” Ercan murmured, softening his tone a little. The admission made me relax for a moment. And then it occurred to me: he knew about Claeg, and he had been with my father. Dread filled my stomach even though reason told me Ercan would never betray me regardless of his anger about my choices.

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