Page 23 of Taken By The Dark Three
A wave of tension crackles through the chamber. I know any response could be twisted. I weigh my words, noticing how Vaelith and Zareth watch me with hawk-like focus, each hoping I’ll tip the balance in their favor. I meet the councilor’s stare. “I am no willing servant,” I say, voice steady. “But if forced to choose, I’d rather fight with a sword than let him rattle around in my head.”
Zareth smirks, a spark of challenge in his eyes. Vaelith’s expression remains rigid, though a faint flicker of satisfaction crosses his features. The councilor nods. “Then we shall proceed with Commander Vaelith’s recommendation. You will serve Orthani’s military. As a measure of caution, you are still bound by wards. If you become a liability, we revoke that privilege and hand you over to House Velcorin. Understood?”
I give a curt nod. My heart pounds. This arrangement is no victory; it merely shifts me from one brand of captivity to another. Yet it grants me a measure of distance from Zareth’s invasive mind games. I sense how disappointed he is, though he schools his features into amused resignation.
“Very well,” the elderly council member says. “Commander, she is yours to command. Ensure you control her.”
Vaelith bows stiffly, not looking at me. “Thank you, my lords. I will do what’s necessary.”
The herald booms, “Proceed with the formal presentation. Let all witness Orthani’s latest acquisition.”
A pair of guards step forward, gripping my arms. They usher me onto a raised platform at the center, high enough for the entire assembly to see me clearly. A hush falls, broken only by murmurs as onlookers crane their necks. My pulse hammers with rage. The humiliation of being displayed like a caged beast gnaws at me, yet I stand tall, refusing to lower my gaze.
I notice the council members exchange satisfied looks. They relish the drama of it all. Vaelith stands off to one side, fists at his sides, posture controlled. Zareth remains at the opposite end, arms folded in velvet sleeves, eyes gleaming. I swear he’s imagining all the ways he might have turned me into his mental plaything. My stomach twists.
“Behold Orthani’s new purna,” the herald declares. “She stands testament to our city’s strength—and to what fate awaits those who challenge us.”
A few scattered claps sound from the crowd, though the majority observe in silence, calculating whether I’ll be a boon or a future threat. The guard on my left inclines his head at Vaelith. “Commander, shall we proceed?”
Vaelith steps forward, climbing the platform steps. He halts a foot away, his presence overshadowing the smaller guard. The tension in my spine intensifies. He scans me from head to toebefore facing the audience. “Orthani claims her. She will serve in our ranks.”
I clench my teeth. Every fiber of me longs to lash out, but I remain still, letting them see that I might be controlled physically, but my spirit stands unbroken. Vaelith extends his hand in a gesture of possession, but he doesn’t touch me. Perhaps he senses I’d recoil. Or maybe he’s wise enough not to push that boundary here. The councilor nods, satisfied.
“Return her to your estate,” she says. “Ensure she abides by our laws. We have no further use for this ceremony.”
With that, a chord of finality resonates in the hall. The crowd of nobles begins dispersing, drifting into side conversations or heading toward carved exits. Zareth lingers, cutting a pointed glance my way. He flashes a smile that is all teeth, as though saying this isn’t over. My blood simmers.
Vaelith’s guards usher me down from the platform. I descend the steps, feeling the stares of curious onlookers scraping over my skin. My ankles remain unchained, but two guards keep me flanked on either side, ensuring I don’t attempt an escape. Vaelith leads the way through a side corridor, his posture guarded.
He waits until we’re away from prying eyes, then addresses the guards. “Leave us for a moment.” They hesitate, but he gives a curt nod. One by one, they step back, letting Vaelith and me stand alone in a high-ceilinged vestibule lit by a single ornate chandelier. The hush is almost eerie.
Vaelith turns to me, silver hair catching the flicker of torchlight, expression unreadable. “You wanted to avoid Zareth’s experiments. Now you’ve earned yourself a place under my command. Does that please you?”
My jaw sets. “Don’t pretend I had a real choice. This entire display was for Orthani’s amusement.”
His eyes narrow. “Perhaps. But you are alive and not strung up in House Velcorin’s labs. Take the small victories when they come.”
Anger surges, but I swallow it. “Fine. You’ve secured me for your so-called military use. Are you going to collar me with wards or keep me caged in your cellar?”
He exhales, something akin to exasperation crossing his features. “I’ll provide a room in my estate. There will be rules. If you break them, I deliver you to the council’s harshest punishment. I’m trying to give you a chance to prove you can function without constant chains.”
I arch a brow, letting sarcasm lace my voice. “Oh, how merciful. I’m sure I’ll cherish every moment in your lavish prison.”
A muscle in his jaw tenses. “I’m no sadist like Zareth. But Orthani’s laws are absolute. If you challenge them, you’ll find yourself in a worse situation than you can imagine.”
Our eyes lock, and for a moment, the air feels charged with something more than animosity. A swirl of tension snakes through me, a reluctant awareness of the power he holds over me, but also the flicker of curiosity I sense in him. Then he tears his gaze away, nods once, and signals the guards. “We’re leaving.”
They flank me again, and we exit the council hall. Outside, a grand courtyard stretches, lined with towering statues of past Orthani heroes. An ornate carriage waits at the far end, drawn by two monstrous draconic lizards, scaled in obsidian black. I grimace. I’d prefer to walk, but the fortress is enormous. Vaelith beckons me to follow, stepping into the carriage. I climb after him, ignoring the guard’s watchful stance, and settle onto a cushioned seat opposite Vaelith.
The carriage lurches forward, rumbling over cobblestones. I glance out the window slit, catching glimpses of Orthani’slabyrinth of spires and archways. The city’s gloom wraps around everything, an eternal twilight beneath roiling clouds. My chest contricts at the memory of Ai’s pale face. I vow to keep planning, keep searching for that single chance to free her and tear down these oppressive walls.
“So,” Vaelith says, voice cutting through the quiet clatter of wheels. “You’ll serve in my retinue. Your tasks will be to train, follow orders, and occasionally accompany me on missions. In exchange, you keep a measure of freedom.”
I curl my lip in distaste. “Freedom, as you define it.”
He meets my stare, unwavering. “It’s more than you’d get under Zareth.”
I can’t argue that. A swirl of conflicting emotions surges inside me. On one hand, Vaelith embodies Orthani’s militaristic cruelty—he’s the one who captured me, after all. On the other, I sense a rigid code behind his cold composure, different from the sadistic hunger I see in Zareth. Neither is an ally, but perhaps Vaelith’s brand of discipline is easier to manipulate.
