Page 129 of Tales of a Deadly Devotion
Nuva. Sister. A form of respect I’d never heard before. One between warriors.
To keep this secret and lie to his master? I didn’t need to wonder why. I knew.
The scared Kysillian blades in the Countess’s grasp chafed against the loyalty in his blood as much as it chafed against mine.
‘You’ll let us go?’ I demanded, still not trusting him. Not believing that something as simple as my blood could sway him.
‘With a warning.’ His lavender eyes gleamed with it. ‘Pray those monsters in the north stay away. Or they’ll kill you slowly as penance for whatheis.’
He nodded his head in Emrys’s direction, yet the caution in his stare pinned me in place. No disgust or disdain. Almost pity.
What the elders would have done to my mother to punish my father for his disloyalty to his blood. For wasting sacred magic on half-breeds.
Then I watched Aster shift uncomfortably and avert their gaze. Saw why perhaps Callen would feel the need to warn me – when he himself was in the same danger.
‘I’m not theirs,’ I challenged.
‘We all are. Even if they don’t want us.’ Callen’s smile was small with sadness. ‘They care for honour too much.’
They cared about their honour so much they’d rather destroy this world and the truth to keep their power.
Even Kysillia’s stories can be twisted for them to gain power from your ignorance.A truth my father had given me long ago. How corrupt our own elders had become for nothing but pride.
‘We cannot stay much longer.’ Aster warned softly, noticing the rebels struggling to keep the captured hunters under control.
Callen ran a hand down his tired face, nodding before looking at me one last time.
‘Take heed. A milvok lies on the path ahead,’ he offered. An old strange tale. A milvok was an invisible creature, a trickster with a poisonous bite.
Some say it never existed at all. That it was a warning for something else, almost in code. Yet as he gave it I saw the discomfort on his features, as if the words felt like glass tearing from his throat.
Of course. He was sworn to the Countess, and when she demanded secrecy he had no choice but to give it. Not about the plans she had or who they involved.
Pain flickered across his expression before he turned, shouting a command to withdraw to the rebels that lingered close by. Spurring them into motion. A tiredness apparent in the fall of his shoulders. Aster watched him cautiously. Concerned.
Reminding me that Callen has been offered as payment to the Countess. A horrid feeling that it’d happened against hiswill. This strange entrapment, by elders we were supposed to respect. Who were supposed to guard us.
‘May they guard you, Nuor,’ I called in parting, watching his back tense. He didn’t turn back to me, as if to dismiss that ancient word between us, as if he wasn’t worthy of hearing it.
Nuor. Brother. What the warriors would have called each other before battles.
‘Move them!’ a rebel shouted to another who was moving two hunters, their hands bound. A group of rebels dragging those remaining hunters away from the wall – to whatever grizzly fate the Countess had planned for them.
I couldn’t look away. Seeing how the hatred burning in their eyes met my own. No different from those corpses that had risen again.
Then in a moment all I could see was those small bones glinting in the pit. There was enough fury in my blood to incinerate this village. To turn the very stone to nothing but ash. I knew it and yet I remained still. Allowed it to coil viciously inside of me.
‘Kat.’ Emrys took a gentle hold of my arm to guide me away, as if he could feel it stirring within me.
I needed to leave. My anger would fix nothing here. No. We’d been too late.
One hunter lurched forward from the rebel’s hold, screaming and snapping their teeth against their restraints. Forcing more rebels to try and drag them back.
‘Get them gone!’ Callen commanded. Only then did I see the momentary distraction. How one of the other captured hunters was so still in the chaos. How their bound hands reached for their belt. The gleam of green. The crazed toothy smile in the mass of bodies. Lost in the chaos.
Something was in his bound hands. A dark metal sphere, a green sheen to the markings on it. The runes I couldn’t mistake.
A vorg.
