Page 27 of Taken By The Dark Three
My chest tightens. “That’s not your concern. Orthani does what it must to survive.”
She lets out a scoff. “Survival at the expense of everyone else, right?”
I turn away, refusing to let her see the flicker of doubt that stirs inside me. “Keep your moralizing. I follow orders just as you will. The world isn’t kind. We can’t afford kindness.”
For a moment, silence settles. Her gaze weighs on my back. I recall the past, my fiancée executed for protecting a purna. Part of me wonders if I’m just as complicit in cruelty as the ones who carried out that sentence. I quell the thought, returning to the map. “Focus,” I snap. “We have limited time to cover these tactics.”
She shrugs, stepping closer to examine the lines on the parchment. The proximity draws my awareness to her again—the subtle scent of her skin, the quiet power in her stance. My pulse quickens, a warmth creeping along my jaw. I remindmyself this is about forging her into a soldier, not indulging whatever twisted attraction lurks beneath.
Her voice softens, though it’s still edged with steel. “I can memorize your lines of attack. But you can’t force me to want Orthani’s victory.”
I grip the edge of the stand. “I only need your skill. Your motivations are your own. Betray me, and you’ll regret it.”
She smirks faintly. “Threaten all you like, Commander.”
Our eyes lock, tension coiling tight between us. The shadows cast by the torch flicker across her features, highlighting the curve of her jaw, the shape of her mouth. Heat surges in my veins. The air thickens with the kind of charged energy I’ve only felt at the height of battle. I can’t tell if I want to crush her defiance or if I’m drawn to it, maybe both. The push and pull gnaws at me.
Suddenly, the guard stationed at the courtyard’s edge steps forward. His voice disrupts the moment. “Commander, a messenger from the council arrived. They request your presence at dawn.”
I exhale, stepping back. “Very well,” I say, forcing my tone steady. “We’re done here for tonight.” I glance at Selene, squashing the roiling emotions in my chest. “Remember what we covered.”
She dips her chin slightly. The guard beckons her to follow him inside. She does so, turning at the last moment to give me a final, smoldering glance. It leaves me standing by the map, heart pounding.
When she’s gone, the courtyard feels oddly empty, the torchlight casting lonely shadows. My jaw clenches. I vow to keep control, to shape her into a weapon for Orthani, ignoring the voice that wonders if I’m shaping her for something else, something far more dangerous to my carefully maintained world.
I gather the map and extinguish the torch, retreating to my private chambers. Sleep won’t come easily, not with her defiance echoing in my head. She’s a storm, unpredictable and enthralling. I remind myself that letting her under my skin is a mistake. Still, I sense a growing hunger to see how far she can push me.
Tomorrow, I’ll keep training her. I’ll keep forging her into the perfect fighter Orthani needs. Each step we take in this forced alliance cracks the rigid shell of discipline I rely on. I can’t deny there’s a savage thrill whenever she meets my blade or hurls a biting remark. She’s too alive, too fierce to be ignored. If I’m not careful, she’ll either slip from my grasp or drag me into a whirlpool of conflicting desire and fury.
As I sink onto my bed, staring at the vaulted ceiling of my chamber, I let out a low breath. This tension can’t be denied, but I can channel it. I’ll wield her strength, subdue her rebellious streak just enough to keep her in line. She’s mine to command—so the council thinks. If she fights me, I’ll fight back. And if the spark between us flares too bright, I’ll remind us both that Orthani’s demands come before any personal indulgence. Because I am Vaelith Zothani, a commander sworn to Orthani’s will. And she is Selene, a captive purna who refuses to bend.
Only time will tell if we destroy each other or emerge stronger. For now, I clamp down on the tumult in my chest, steel my resolve, and close my eyes. Dawn will bring a fresh round of training, another clash between her defiance and my iron discipline. I intend to win. Even if every moment with her feels like treading the edge of a blade, half enthralled, half enraged. I’ll show her that I’m no feeble overseer and that Orthani cannot be tamed by any wild purna, no matter how tempting the dance.
9
SELENE
Morning arrives before I’m ready, pale light drifting through the narrow window in my assigned room at Vaelith’s estate. My body aches from yesterday’s grueling sparring session, muscles stretched in ways I haven’t felt in some time. Despite the discomfort, my mind hums with restless purpose. Last night, I lay awake plotting how to exploit the cracks in Vaelith’s command, searching for a path that benefits me rather than Orthani. I suspect those cracks begin with the guards who patrol these corridors, men who cling to their routines and hardly question an order—until subtle whispers urge them otherwise.
I rise, dress in the dark tunic and leggings provided, and slip into the hallway outside. A single guard stands watch nearby, a slender dark elf named Harken. He gives me a sharp look, his stance rigid. I meet his gaze with feigned neutrality, letting the hum of my psionic magic skim just beneath my thoughts. I’ve learned to be cautious with these powers, especially inside Orthani’s wards, but if I’m careful—if I nudge lightly—perhaps I can sow small seeds of doubt.
“Good morning,” I say, voice calm, stepping closer so I can sense the faint aura of his mind.
He grunts. “You shouldn’t be wandering without permission.”
I shrug. “Commander told me to prepare for training.” I take another half-step nearer, letting the intangible filaments of my psionic sense drift from my consciousness to his. My aim is minimal: plant a whisper that Vaelith might not be as invincible as they believe. Make the guard question the unchallenged authority they all cling to.
“Your commander,” I add softly, “he’s overreaching himself, isn’t he? Taking on a purna like me. Dangerous business.” I brush that thought into Harken’s mind, letting it settle as though it’s his own fleeting doubt.
His eyes flick uncertainly. “Danger or not, I follow orders.”
I nod, stepping back a fraction to avoid pushing too hard. “Of course you do. I’d hate to see you paying for your commander’s ambitions if something goes wrong.” I watch him flinch at my words. Perfect. A tiny thread of unease for him to ruminate on.
He scowls, gesturing down the corridor. “This way. The commander waits in the courtyard.”
I follow with a faint smile. My efforts are small, but repeated nudges on multiple guards might create the disquiet I need. If Vaelith’s men begin to doubt him, that friction could become leverage later.
The courtyard is bright with early light. Vaelith stands at the center, armed with a practice sword, scanning the ring of onlookers—mostly his own soldiers, plus a few high-born officers who occasionally drift by to watch me stumble or triumph. He spots me and inclines his head, summoning me forward. His arms glisten with a sheen of sweat, as though he’s been warming up long before I arrived. A faint pang ofadmiration flickers through me at how he wields discipline, but I let it pass.
