Page 68 of Power of Draken

Tossing down the whip, the guard draws a dagger from his sheath and plunges it into Yokos’s belly. It’s a death wound… but not a quick one.

“Breakfast has been forfeited,” Mercer announces to the group as Yokos writhes weakly, begging for the quick death he is denied. “Everyone back into the wagon.”

"Gods.” Bile rises in my throat as I fully acknowledge that the mercenaries will, in fact, just leave him there.

The other cadets’ faces are a mirror of horror ripping through me. Even Kai's usual mask of indifference has slipped, revealing a tightness around his eyes that speaks volumes.

"We have to do something," I say to him, though even as the words leave my mouth, I know how futile they are.

"There's nothing we can do," Kai replies, his voice low. Hard. "Except learn from his mistake."

I am quiet as we’re herded into the wagon, Yukos’s whimpers echoing the ones I long to make. My head hurts. Badly. Kai is right—I need to learn from Yokos’s mistake. He’d bolted on a whim and fear. We can’t do that. But at some point, the time to fight will come and then, then I must be ready for it. I spend the next hour carefully working on weakening my shackles’ metal composition, stopping only when the shockwaves of pain jolting through my skull nearly send me unconscious.

And when that happens, when I know I’ve reached my limit and it’s not good enough, I finally acknowledge what I have to do.

When we stop next, I shuffle over to the man I’d promised myself I’d never approach again.

“Collin,” I say quietly, my fingers touching his forearm. “I need your help.”

Collin turns, his brown eyes assessing me with a knowing, familiar look. “I know,” he answers in the same quiet tones. “I was just waiting for you to ask.”

Relief and dread fill me in equal measure, but I’m out of options. Collin has known me since childhood, has been helping keep me together since both our magic first emerged. The daily tonic I’ve been missing was as much his creation as the full fledged healer’s. If I have any hope of staying functional, it lies in his magic. And I know he knows it.

“You’ll help me then?” I whisper. My heart pounds. “I know you’ve been trying to keep your magic hidden and?—”

“Shhhh.” Collin puts a finger to my lips, then takes my head gently between his palms. “Of course I will help you. I will always help you, Ro. I love you.”

Chapter 33

Logan

At least the stench is gone. That’s the only good thing I can say about the Gloom as I jog down the echo version of Doverly’s streets. Or what exists of them in the Gloom’s shadow world.

Most of the smaller structures are gone. Their existence in the normal world—which some scholars, in a brilliant display of originality, labeled the Light—isn’t deep enough to pierce through the barrier. But the larger buildings are still here, though they are leached of whatever color they might have had in the rising dawn sun.

And it’s cold. The kind of cold no fire or cloak will fix. The Gloom feeds on life and magic of most Light-based beings. But there is no smell here. So there is that.

And there are no people.

The mercenaries, Kai, Rowan. None of them are here.

Theoretically, my being here is impossible too. Even in the immortal lands, only the more powerful fae are able to step into the Gloom. In the warded Eryndor the Gloom-Light barrier is impenetrable. It’s impossible for the corrupt creatures who call the Gloom home to surface within Eryndor’s wards. Impossible for anyone to step the other way—from Eryndor into the Gloom—too. Except me.

I don’t know why, except that it’s some bizzare twist of magic. Probably one developed from the desperation of a pup not ready to die at the hands of a rival pack. But what good is this talent of mine if I can’t use it to save my mate?

Because I now know that’s what she is. Truth is, I’ve known it from the start, from when I saw my bite mark on her face.

But it was that night in the woods when I tasted her that I finally stopped lying to myself. Rowan is my mate, tethered to me by fate or magic or whatever cruel force is behind such things. She is my mate. And she will never want me.

But I will always be hers, even if she never knows it.

I turn and find the alley leading to Wishing Well Inn opening up in front of me. Distances are different here. If the normal world was a cloak, the Gloom would be its floating lining—tethered to it, but a fabric of its own.

It’s a work of a few hours to work out where the mercs are holding Rowan and Kai, but there is nothing I can do about it right now. The chill digs deeper into my joints, reminding me that I need to get out of the Gloom before it drains me. I pick a spot where the barrier feels thin enough to step through and push through the veil into Doverly’s native stench.

Sound returns in a rush, workers starting their day and drunks finishing theirs. I dart into a narrow gap between two buildings, pressing my back against the rough stone as two mercenaries round the corner, their voices low.

"...Hak wants to move out. I get not being late, but we don’t need to be early,” one grumbles, adjusting the sword at his hip. “There is coin to be made.”

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