Page 10 of A Broken Ember

The sun rose with me as I scouted the area. Dawn poked through the darkness, painted the sky a light pink, reminding me of the scars marring the prince’s flesh. I didn’t go far, not wanting to draw attention to myself, but I needed water. My strength was fading. Digging the graves last night had sapped my energy, but pride kept me from showing the prince my desperate need for water. So I searched while he slept. Exhaustion threatened to ground me, but I pushed on, refusing to acknowledge the heaviness in my limbs. I circled the sky until the prince woke and joined me. Flying gave me time to reflect. Anastasius trusted me too much; that much was clear the moment he invited me into the De Vita stronghold without further scrutiny. But to sleep in my presence after learning who I was? Apparently my acting was better than I had thought. I didn’t complain. If the prince wanted to lead a predator into his home then who was I to protest?

Anastasius’ draconis form was like a cloudy night right before rainfall. So peaceful, quiet. His wings formed perfect arches. If we flew in tandem, it wouldn’t be as De Vita or Circulus, just two Circles. The thought made me blink and shake my head. He was created to tempt me, but he would not break me. My resolve was granite. I wouldn’t cave to the feelings of lust within me. They were just the Ruptor’s need for power surfacing. The desires of my body could be met upon my return home. With Sivert, I told myself. The Ruptor recoiled at the thought of settling with him, but I wasn’t sure why. He fulfilled my need to dominate, but that didn’t feel like enough.

We flew through the Sand Eye, straight for his home. I marked the path in my mind, over mesas and valleys and stretches of endless sand. Eventually we came upon an oasis stretched as far as I could see. Water, my body screamed. The weakness was short-lived, as my attention was stolen by the De Vita stronghold. The massive mesa had been chiseled into an elaborate structure. A castle unlike the Circulus in every way. Instead of bridges and squared towers, the De Vita had built their home into a mountain with no peak. The top was a flat expanse elevated above the sand dunes. Windows and doorways were carved into the sun-crisp stone. The structure was large enough to encompass my home three-fold, but instead of inciting fear into me, it lit a thrill in my bones. My heart raced with the opportunity to exert dominance. I ground my teeth, reminding myself of my mission. The Ruptor wasn’t used to being submissive, but I had to try.

The De Vita were alive with bustling activity, but the focal point of the excitement was the top of the mesa. Beasts swarmed there: a large draconis the color of melted sand fought another similar to Anastasius, except their wings were scarred, their body marred from many wounds. They circled one another, snarling and flaring their wings to intimidate one another. Many draconis watched and conversed along the sidelines of the platform, most in human form. It was clear nobody was concerned about the fight, yet the two draconis looked at each other the way I would look at a coward.

Anastasius flew straight for the heart of the fray, diving onto the platform without hesitation. He landed between the two battling draconis. Getting between a draconis and their prey was not a wise move, yet he did so with ease, shifting into his human form. By the gods of Circulus, he was either naive or brave. My heart stammered. Yet, the two battling draconis immediately backed down, bowing their heads. It was so unlike the Circulus, among which any draconis that had such a strong disagreement that they decided to fight did so until it was clear one’s Circle would be completed. Only then did they stop and I would be called in to begin the ritual of completing the weak one’s Circle.

It was unclear what I should do, so I followed his lead, shifting next to him. My head remained bowed to keep up my act of weakness, but I kept my senses alert, hoping to pick up on anything useful to bring back to the Circulus. Once I got what I needed—details about numbers, weaknesses, plans, and anything else we could use—I could go home. The brand at the back of my neck burned. Clotho had better damn-well keep her promise to take me back when I succeeded.

So many enemy eyes traced my movements, it made me ache, especially while pretending to be submissive. They saw a weak draconis, a traitor, yet nothing could be further from the truth. As I looked around, I saw many with scars, evidence of their weakness. Most of them would not be alive if they were Circulus-born, including the pretty Anastasius.

The two draconis that had been engaged in the fight shifted, revealing two women, an older one that looked identical to Anastasius in build, skin color, and that breathtaking shade of eyes—a shadowed moon. The other was smaller and younger, a fledgling, yet she held her head high, crimson hair flowing about her dainty shoulders. Both women wore light armor and swords at their hips, the clothes and accessories reappearing from the ether.

“Mother,” Anastasius greeted the older woman with a stiff embrace. She smiled thinly at her son. When they pulled apart, he nodded to the young woman. “Oriana.” She smiled at his attention, her cheeks flushing. They stared at each other for a moment, something silent passing between them. I imagined him in her embrace and scowled.

A man broke the tension between the pair. “It’s about time you brought a Circulus to Save.”

“Father.” Anastasius dipped his head.

I looked between the two of them. I swallowed my surprise. This was the son of Odon. This beautifully weak draconis was the heir to De Vita. If I wasn’t trying to earn his trust, I would laugh. There were no similarities between father and son, yet this draconis was the legendary Odon. He exuded the scent of sex and blood, harnessing it like an ax. His disheveled blonde hair was cropped close to his scalp. Amber eyes with blown pupils studied me with mild interest. His bare chest bore scars, but not as many as Anastasius’ despite his age. He had abducted so many Circulus, but why?

His presence soured my mood. It took everything in me not to let my disgust show, to keep the air of subservience about me. Anastasius was his son. They would be the same. They may not look the same outwardly, but Anastasius had been raised by De Vita. He would be the next De Vita. Looks deceived: I was proof of that. I appeared to have a broken Circle, but I was still Circulus through and through. Nothing could take that from me.

Odon’s son stiffened and turned toward his father. “Eleos shall not be Saved,” Anastasius growled, his hands balling into fists and his jaw pulsing.

Eleos? I forced myself not to react to the name he gave me. He would have his reasons for keeping my identity a secret, and it only served to benefit me if Odon didn’t know I was the Ruptor of the Circulus clan.

“He is Circulus. He must be Saved to live among De Vita. It is our way, son,” Odon clipped. His eyes trailed to me, but I refused to look at him. A muscle in Anastasius' jaw jumped, and he beckoned me forward. I closed the distance between us, forcing myself to stumble, reinforcing the persona of weakness. Without looking at me, his hand found my shoulder and coaxed me to turn. I obeyed silently. What he wanted was clear—access to the mark of the traitor upon me. He swept the hair from my neck tenderly, but the reveal still washed me with shame. I cringed as someone gasped in the crowd.

“Eleos is not Circulus.” Anastasius pointed to my inflamed wound that marred my Circle tattoo. It itched, but I kept my hands at my sides and forced myself not to think about those words. Every one of the draconis’ eyes around the arena were on me, assessing me like prey. Fuck them for thinking I was beneath them. Every single one of them would see that I was not weak. The Circulus were strong. We would not be bullied by them. We would not be their slaves.

“And what would you have us do with him?”

“He is my Selected,” Anastasius declared. Gasps erupted throughout the crowd before murmurs followed. His eyes fell on me, and curiosity forced me to look at him. He gave me a soft smile and turned toward his father again. He released my shoulder, allowing me to turn toward the men who held my fate in their hands. I hated the feeling of my Circle being controlled by another.

Nothing has changed. You have always been a puppet.

I bit my tongue to withhold a growl.

“Anastasius, you cannot. He may not be Circulus, but he is not of De Vita!” Odon’s brows narrowed in outrage, his pale face reddening.

“Is it not my right to select the suitor for my heart?” Anastasius shot back. Shock hit me, but I kept my head bowed, awaiting my fate.

“Things would be much simpler for you if you selected a De Vita maiden,” Odon huffed.

“You would have me sacrifice my chance at happiness for convenience?” The words Anastasius spoke were so familiar—words that I had said to my Janardan. It appeared longing for the touch of a male was an inconvenience that traversed cultures. But what astounded me more was that he believed he could find happiness with me.

Odon pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly frustrated with his son but unwilling to press the matter in front of so many witnesses, including myself. “Very well. I have chosen the other three Selected.” Anastasius dipped his head. “See to it that the traitor is settled and then meet me in my chambers. We have much to discuss.” Odon spun on his heel and shifted, revealing his draconis—golden scales and amber eyes. He sneered at me before diving off the mesa.

Anastasius led me down from the plateau, into the stronghold. The inside was so unlike the Circulus castle. It smelled strongly of heated spice and was . . . decorated. Pillars were carved into figures that resembled humans with wings and horns, draconis without wings and with fewer legs—the same creatures rumored to live in the Neutral Strip. Had they witnessed such beings? Unlikely, but it seemed both clans believed in the same mythical creatures, so there must be some base to them.

The air was light in the castle, and laughter echoed through the artfully etched walls. The decor’s impracticality served no purpose, offering no strength to the compound. We passed a joyful couple holding hands, their eyes on each other. The woman had a swollen belly, but my eyes were on the stump where her right hand should be. I wondered if she was born weak or had lost it in battle. Either way, the sight made me scowl. Such weakness would never be tolerated in the Circulus, let alone permitted to breed. And yet her partner held her close, as if she were the most precious thing in the world. It was clear their partner accepted all of them—flaws, faults, everything. That kind of love didn’t exist in the Circulus. I would never be granted such a relationship. The thought would somber me if I let it take root, so I pushed it aside. Anastasius would only weaken me and my clan.

When we were deep within the stronghold, the natural light was replaced by fire. Anastasius stopped before a heavy door and pushed it open, revealing a windowless room. The gloomy choice of chambers made sense: we were deep within the mountain, leaving me less opportunity to escape. This place was different from the Circulus, where sunlight pierced nearly every room. He lit a couple sconces posted in the corners of the room, revealing where I presumed I would stay. There was a spacious bed with plump pillows and silky, green blankets. A wooden dresser stood opposite a claw-foot bath. Somebody had painted the walls with colors that reminded me of home—lush greens, but the trees depicted were scraggly and crooked as if the painter had never seen them before. In the corner was a table with objects on it that I didn’t understand the use of. It looked like tools to create more of the art which adorned the walls—an unnecessary feature.

“I hope this suits your needs.”

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