Page 68 of Taken By The Dark Three
He nods, expression grave. “We must hurry. The Red Purna will strike soon. If the council catches wind that we’re aiding Selene in evacuating Ai, they’ll see it as treason.”
A swirl of conflicting emotions rattles me. “I know. But we must protect Ai, and I… can’t abandon Selene, either.”
Vaelith glances away, discomfort flickering. “Neither can I. She’s claimed more of me than I care to admit. So, we proceed carefully.”
I almost smile. The stoic Commander grudgingly acknowledging the hold Selene has. We step through corridors lined with tapestries of Orthani’s conquests. I can’t help but sense the irony: these walls depict an empire built on subjugation, and here we are, forging a subversion of those very traditions.
Rounding a corner, I pause, noticing the hush of a side hallway. The memory of last night’s heated conversation with Selene returns, how she commanded me to kneel, how Vaelith conceded to share her. A small flicker of longing ignites in my chest. The tension between me and Vaelith remains complicated—both of us revolve around Selene’s gravitational pull. We’re uncertain whether to view each other as allies or rivals. But in the council chamber, we united for her sake. That synergy intrigues me.
Vaelith clears his throat. “We should find Selene, inform her that the council temporarily accepted our claim. She’ll want to know.”
I nod, yet a smirk tugs at my lips. “Yes. And perhaps she’ll reward us for playing the roles of her loyal enforcers.” The tease emerges before I can filter it. I recall how her power in the bedroom cements her hold over each of us, forging a bond that defies simple tradition.
Vaelith scowls, though not entirely with anger. “You sound proud of your submission. Dare I ask if you relish it?”
A flush creeps up my neck. “I relish no submission,” I protest, though my voice betrays a waver. The memory of kneeling lingers. “But… I accept what must be done to shield her from Orthani’s wrath. If that means appearing as her master in public while yielding to her behind closed doors, so be it.”
He gives a tight nod. “Agreed. Our arrangement is unorthodox. But we can’t pretend last night’s unity meant nothing. We share a singular cause—and apparently, a singular woman.”
A spark of tension simmers between us. I recall how we both touched her, how we drowned in her presence. Odd that we stand here, not drawing blades, but forging an alliance. Our eyes meet, and I sense a flicker of grudging respect. He extends a curt gesture. “Let’s go.”
We continue down the hallway, descending a spiral staircase that leads to the estate’s lower levels. Rumor says Selene is meeting Eryx in a secluded chamber to coordinate Ai’s extraction. My chest squeezes at the thought of Eryx, the assassin who once despised me. We, too, must align for the plan. Another wave of irony: I, Zareth Velcorin, sharing cause with Vaelith and Eryx, men I once saw as lesser or foes. All bound by Selene’s magnetism.
We reach a heavy oak door, partially ajar. Soft voices murmur within: Eryx’s smooth drawl, Selene’s sharper tones. Vaelith knocks once, then pushes inside. The chamber is small, a single lantern casting flickering light over a table scattered withmaps. Eryx stands by the far corner, arms folded. Selene leans over the table, studying a parchment. She straightens when we enter.
Her gaze flicks between us, curiosity glinting. “How did it go?”
I release a breath. “We convinced the council to spare you—for now. I claimed you as my vessel, Vaelith supported me, said you serve Orthani’s interest.” My stomach twists, remembering the half-truths.
Eryx snickers softly, though there’s no true malice. “Your vessel? How does she feel about that?”
Selene’s lips curve into a wry grin. She crosses the room, expression half amused, half serious. “Zareth calling me his vessel? The irony is delicious. But if it shields me from execution, I’ll accept it.” She glances at Vaelith. “Thank you both.”
Vaelith shrugs, tension in his shoulders. “We did what had to be done. But the council’s acceptance is fragile. If they learn we plan to remove Ai, they’ll brand us traitors. This city might turn on us overnight.”
Selene nods, scanning the map on the table. “Then we have little time. Eryx discovered the Red Purna’s infiltration route. We’ll lure them away while we slip Ai through a different passage. But that means neutralizing the wards around her wing. Zareth, you’re certain you can handle that?”
I lift my chin, meeting her gaze. “Yes. I’ll quietly weaken the wards. It won’t attract attention if I claim I’m simply refining them to keep you in check. They assume I monitor you with psionic scanning.”
She smiles, a spark of warmth in her eyes. “Good. Then we strike at sundown tomorrow, correct? Eryx triggers a distraction at the southwestern perimeter, Vaelith opens the side gate, and we whisk Ai away.”
Eryx nods, stepping forward to place a dagger on the table. “Yes. Red Purna infiltration squads will think it’s an easy path. I’ll lead them astray while you handle Ai. By the time they find out, we’ll be gone.”
A hush follows, each of us absorbing the plan’s gravity. Selene’s gaze roams over us, that familiar glint of authority flickering in her expression. I recall how, in private, she exerts her hold—commanding us to kneel, to serve. The memory sends a surge of heat through me, masked by my neutral stance.
“All right,” she says softly. “Let’s finalize details. Then, if success is ours, we meet at the orchard outside the city walls, vanish with Ai while Orthani and the Red Purna clash.”
We gather around the table, pointing to routes and guard schedules. Tension hums, but there’s an undercurrent of anticipation that goes beyond mere strategy. My chest tightens each time Selene’s shoulder brushes mine. Vaelith stands at her other side, occasionally exchanging pointed looks with me. Eryx offers sly remarks, but his eyes too keep drifting to her. We all revolve around her gravitational pull, as though she’s the anchor in a sea of shifting alliances.
When we conclude, Vaelith scowls at the scattered maps. “We’re done here. Let’s disperse before the estate’s watchers grow suspicious.”
Eryx folds his arms, glancing at Selene. “A parting word, dear queen?” His tone is half sardonic, half reverent, a reflection of the twisted dynamic we share.
She smirks, crossing her arms. “Just this: Don’t fail me.” The simple statement brims with confidence.
He dips his head, a lopsided grin. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
Vaelith casts her a final glance, tension in his posture, then strides out to resume his role. Eryx follows, boots echoing onstone. I linger, something in me unwilling to leave so abruptly. She notices, turning. “Yes?”
