Page 55 of Her Tortured Beasts

I slam a fist into his neck so fast he stumbles back from the shock. But he’s ready for the next jab, catching it easily in a big fist. I rain punches and kicks upon him, fully aware of what I’m doing and revelling in the feeling of the fight. As if I was meant to do this. As if this was my life’s purpose and mission. To fight. To kill.

“The song, Mother!” my sister shouts. “The music!”

“Enough of this!”

Two things slam onto the sides of my head and loud sounds make me grimace. But they also stop me in my tracks.

Headphones cushion my ears where the music plays from, my father holding the player in one hand.

I look up at him, his handsome face taut. “You have your mother’s genes,” he snarls, grabbing me again. He calls overhis shoulder, “Assemble the family. We may get a prophecy tonight.”

A little less than an hour later, my uncle, mother, and my older sister meet me in the throne room. It’s deep underground where the walls are made of rock, and the throne itself sits on a high dais of ancient stone, inset with jewels. It’s a place for formal occasions and celebrations, and thus today, I will get to stand on the dais in a place of great pride. I wear a loose black robe of my father’s, with trim of gold and silver thread tied closed at my waist. The headphones still play music in my ears, but I’ve turned it right down to a soft classical number, and that killing rage has settled to burning embers at the back of my mind.

I stare at myself in the reflection of a small hand mirror, checking my neck. A skull with five curling beams erupting from it. I wonder what it means.Whoit means. What anima was destined to be mine and only mine.

Behind my smiling mother and sister, I can hear as my father welcomes a foreign presence into our private domain.

A feminine voice greets, “Your Majesty.”

“Lady Agnis,” Father says formally. “I thought Damien Agnis was a male phoenix.”

“You sent for the best, Your Majesty. Damien is my cousin. I am Celeste Agnis.”

There’s a slight pause whereby my father is no doubt looking the female up and down. She will get no apology for the lateness of the hour, nor the continued storm, because in this household, to serve a dragon is to serve the Wild Gods no less. Finally, Father says, “Please, come in. It is a happy evening for us. My own mark never appeared.”

“Indeed?” she says. “Hopefully, the bonding plane bears luck for your son.”

The door opens, and my father leads in a slender red-headed woman in her late thirties, sharp golden eyes revealing what she is.

“Xander, meet Celeste Agnis,” Father says.

I reach a hand out to her, but she chuckles under her breath and does not take it, indicating the dais behind me. “Please, let us save it for the reading.”

Heat floods my cheeks and I quickly take up my position upon the dais, as does the Lady Phoenix. She smiles softly, studying me with great interest as my father lights the flames upon the pillars on either side of us.

“A great honour has been bestowed upon us tonight,” he booms, voice echoing through the cavern. “A dragon has become grown. My son, the heir to the Drakos throne, will find his soul-bound mate in this lifetime. He will carry our family name. He will bear many children. He brings us pride tonight. Begin, Lady Phoenix.”

Celeste Agnis inhales, her hands clasped at her waist. “How do you feel, Xander?”

I blink, rapidly checking for anything abnormal. “Very well, thank you. I think.”

She smiles kindly. “Such manners.”

“Oh yes,” drawls Father. “He is well trained.”

Lady Agnis inclines her head at Father before turning back to me. She holds out her hand.

The weight of the universe and my entire destiny lies in those hands. I reach out, feeling my ancestors who had done the same before me in the wake of the movement.

Her palm is hot when I take it, and ancient fires light up her irises.

I gasp.

She intones in a deep melodic voice, “Five black hearts are calling. Five black hearts are wanting. It is five who cry a dark and lonely song, calling for their queen. W—” She inhales and blinks as if coming back to the present. “Dragon,” she says with a small smile. “Dragon.”

The room is silent—dead silent as we all register the words.

“Queen?” I finally say. “Why does it refer to a-a queen?”

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