Page 36 of A Broken Ember

I frowned and crossed my arms. “So, you brought me to a mass De Vita graveyard? Forgive me, but seeing this isn’t portraying your point, Ercan.” My tone came out harsh. I couldn’t help it. Seeing my father stirred things within me that I had long thought were buried with my mother. I wanted to hate him, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. Not fully. Not anymore. He had fought to protect. Fuck, I shouldn’t be feeling like this—merciful.

“These aren’t De Vita draconis, Claeg,” he whispered, the implications making me sick. Circulus. My heart pounded, my fists pumping in time with it. I whirled back toward Ercan. “Before you say anything, let me explain.” I growled at his demand, my hands searching for a dagger that wasn’t there. I didn’t need one. My body was a weapon. I stalked towards him.

“Damnit, Claeg! You owe me this!” Ercan cried as I slammed his shoulder into the bone. He hissed in pain. I bared my teeth at him.

“I owe you nothing. You got what you deserved,” I snarled and shoved him into the bone again.

“These draconis weren’t Saved,” Ercan rasped. “Anastasius hates the tradition. We complete the Circles whenever we can, or send them east if they desire to brave the witch’s old world.” I blinked at him in surprise. Anastasius acted like a Ruptor? I thought about our initial meeting. Had he arrived to complete the Circle of the draconis rather than Save her? The thought rattled me. I swallowed, a lump building in my throat.

“He admires you, Claeg. He wants balance. Together, you can create the balance between the clans.” His words were hardly more than a whisper, but I heard them loud and clear. I snorted. We had never tried for peace before, and I wasn’t against the idea, but how could two opposites find neutral territory? Peace was a fantasy. The Circulus respected death in a way De Vita never would. Life and death may be connected, but they didn’t mix.

“I’m not here for peace,” I admitted quietly, shame burning in my core. With that, I shifted and left my father behind.

Chapter 36: Anastasius

A putrid stench lingered in the dungeon, the potentness almost hurting my nose. Almost. “Fledgling,” I growled in greeting when I spotted the sole remaining draconis lounging in his cell through the small window slit. He didn’t glance up at me from where he was inspecting his nails. I banged the door with my fist to get his attention. A lazy eye rose to mine, regarding me with no more interest than an annoying insect. I huffed, opening the cell door to allow us to confront each other appropriately. As the light from the torches flooded in, he shielded his eyes, scowling at me.

“Have you come to Save me, Prince?” he asked idly, as if we were discussing the weather and not his fate.

“You know why I am here,” I answered, my body tense. This man may be in the cell, but he held the power. His knowledge, spoken to my father, could damn us all. And I didn’t even know his name.

“Ah, ah.” He shook his finger, pushing himself to stand. Even at his full height, I towered over him, but that gave me no reassurance. The strength I needed here wasn’t physical. “I want to hear you say it.” A dark smile matched the deadly look in his eyes.

“I could kill you now,” I retorted. It would be easy. I could even make it look like it was self-inflicted. But could I do it? All the other deaths had been for them. This would be for me. Selfish. My gut churned.

“You won’t,” he remarked, once again examining his fingers. “In fact, if you want me to keep my knowledge to myself about Claeg—” Alarm peeked in my body, sweat beading on my brow. “You are going to listen to me very carefully.” I knew what I had to do. Whatever he asked, I couldn’t do it. There would always be a risk of him betraying me. He had to die. Not only for Claeg, but for the future of our clan. If my father knew the truth . . . there would be no defeating him. He would Save me for even thinking about betraying him. There would be no peace. He would continue to pursue Hen and seize the Circulus as his personal slaves. He wouldn’t stop until he had power over the entire continent.

The Circulus began listing demands which washed over me unheard. There was no point in listening to a dead man. I swallowed. This was the right thing. He couldn’t live. He would die to protect everything I was working towards. With each heartbeat, my resolve solidified. All the while, I nodded along, letting him believe I was willing to work with him. But instead, I studied him, calculating the best way to kill him. A strike to the neck? A precise cut would see him bleed out within an instant. Yes, that was the most practical method.

“So?” He raised his brows, and I realized he was expecting a reply. I gripped the sword’s pommel at my hip, drawing his eyes to the movement. He swallowed, seeming to register the threat against him. He took a step away, back pressing against the cool brick wall. I drew the weapon into my hands. His eyes widened.

“You seem to think I have reservations against death.” I sneered. His jaw fell open in a protest that I quickly silenced by placing my blade at his throat. “You do not know me or my motivations, Circulus. I will not let you take everything I have worked to build from me.” I pressed the blade flush to his skin, hard enough to draw blood. “You will not take him from me.” A cocky grin spread on his face, and he snorted, suddenly dismissive despite the blood dripping down his throat.

“You think the Ruptor cares for you? He cares for no one. You know he could have left with the others. He didn’t. Don’t you wonder why? Claeg doesn’t care about you. He will use and discard you once he’s gotten—”

“Enough!” I roared, fury pulsing through me. He lied. What Claeg and I had was real. We cared for each other. He may not have declared his love, but he didn’t have to. I could see it in the way he looked at me. The way he was willing to be vulnerable with me.

I didn’t give him another chance to spin lies before drawing the blade across his throat, opening a red-painted smile. Blood decorated the walls and soaked my face with its spray. His hands flew to his throat, scrambling to staunch the steady flow. It did nothing to stop what I had released. His weight slumped against me.

“He’s lying to you,” the fledgling choked out between gurgling gasps as he drowned in his own life. I spat, letting him fall to the ground. His blood was already slowing, but he kept his eyes on me with a terrifying smile, like he had won even as the light in his eyes faded to a dull gray.

This had been the right decision. It had to be. Sweat dripped down my brow and coated my palms. My weapon clattered to the floor, and I collapsed to the ground. My lip quivered. Blood stalked me across the cell toward the door. The body lay slack in the corner opposite me, his eyes unseeing, a look to haunt me unlike any other. My knees came up to my chest. I bit down on my fist, forcing a sob back down my constricted throat.

I woke up to someone shaking me. My eyes blearily opened. Something sticky drenched my body. I grimaced at the feeling of my fingers sticking together. It felt like honey, but there was no sweet smell. The familiar tang of blood coated my tongue, but it was different somehow. I had chewed through them again. There was no pain; there never was. I shook my head, trying to clear my vision. It was dark, but a familiar face loomed in front of me, mouth moving as he spoke frantically. He was asking me questions that I couldn’t hear.

Fingers snapped in front of my eyes. I blinked, and when my eyes opened again, reality hurtled in. The Circulus. The blood. Oh god—the blood. It was everywhere. On my hands, in my mouth… I heaved over to the side, retching. My shirt was dry and crunchy with blood. Bile bubbled up my throat and burned my nose. This was my doing. I heaved again and again, vaguely aware of Rohit pulling the hair out of my face and rubbing my back. When my stomach was empty, it still continued to heave, curling around itself. It felt like forever before it relented its mission to exit my mouth. When it finally settled, I collapsed back into the comforting embrace of Rohit’s arms. I wiped my mouth, wincing at the feeling of blood smearing across my face. I couldn’t breathe without feeling the effects of what I had done over and over. It was suffocating. My breaths came faster, drawing in more and more of the air laden with guilt. It coated my lungs, infecting me with panic. I gasped for clean air, clutching Rohit like he was the only one that could save me. His tone became urgent and forceful, but I still couldn’t hear it. Perhaps blood filled my ears like it had my stomach and lungs. I needed to escape. Needed to get out. I scrambled to stand, to move, but a firm hand kept me pinned in place. I fought against it, thrashing to no avail. Fear weakened me, and reason was no longer my friend.

I gulped down lungfuls of blood. My gaze landed on the body. His smile still sneered at me even in death, but his eyes had been closed. “I killed him. Fuck, I killed him, Ro,” I rasped. I desperately clung to Rohit’s tunic. My eyes darted around the room, taking in the awful scene.

A sob erupted from my throat before a hand fell over my eyes, forcing darkness back upon me. I would never escape this cell. I would live and die here. When the darkness crept in, I didn’t fight it.

Chapter 37: Claeg

I returned to Anastasius' chambers to find a nightmare in its place. Rohit paced the room, running bloody hands through his hair, deepening the already crimson color to a darker shade. His eyes narrowed, watching me as I shifted on the balcony. Upon entering the room, the source of his vexation became clear. Anastasius laid in his bed, stripped of clothing but coated in a thick layer of blood. I rushed to him, ignoring the throb in my side, my heart immediately racing at the sight of him injured.

“What happened?” I sensed Rohit over my shoulder. “Why haven’t you helped him?” There was so much blood. I couldn’t identify the source of it all.

“Relax, Ruptor. Prince Anastasius is fine. This isn’t his blood.” Rohit rested a hand on my shoulder, making me wince. “You, though, look like shit,” he commented. I grunted, ignoring him in favor of searching Anastasius for a wound, turning him over to view all sides of him, but there was no weakness. Only when I saw he wasn’t bleeding did I relax slightly. But only long enough to demand a cloth and warm water from Rohit. When he handed them to me, I began the laborious task of washing the blood away. Surprisingly Stas didn’t even stir from his slumber.

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