Queen to Ashes (Black Dawn Series Book 2) Page 3

  If Emory had chosen to go to Adair, he couldn’t follow her. He could never beat Adair alone. The decision to find the rest of the Rebellion weighed heavily, as he left Emory in the clutches of their enemy, along with his heart.

  Chapter Four

  Azarius

  The moonlight kissed her skin, bathing Lana in its silver light as it poured through the window. Azarius had no idea what time it was, and frankly, he didn’t care. He wished to be locked in this moment forever, spending endless nights with the woman he loved. Smiling, he watched as she stirred in her sleep, murmuring at things unseen to him. He brought his lips to her shoulder, gently and slowly covering her body with a trail of kisses.

  She sighed, waking and cracking an eye open, groaning. “Do you know what sleep is?”

  He grinned at her in the darkness. “Not with you around,” he murmured.

  She gently brought her hand to rest against his chest, stopping him. “Are you finally going to tell me what happened?” Lana, his love, his other half, could read him like an open book.

  He ran a hand through his fiery red hair. “Lana, you know exactly—”

  “No, Azarius, I want to hear it from you.” She waited, her caramel eyes blazing in the night. Pinning him with that stare, he knew he didn’t have a choice.

  Sighing, he leaned back, propping himself up with his elbows as he searched for the right words. “I made a mistake.”

  Her eyes ignited him like a thousand suns, flashing in the darkness. She of all people understood better than most.

  They survived as refugees for six years in Azarius’s old village, Pentharrow. Morgan found them in time, before Adair’s soldiers advanced. It was timely on her part; Azarius shivered in the night. Without Morgan and her dark magic, they would have all died.

  He would never forget that night, how she had advanced from the night, a demon bathed in red. She had locked eyes with him, and he knew from that one look that everything would change. As a stranger, he had advanced upon her at once. He was the only security in their small town. He was a fighter, a survivor, and he would protect his people. She had known. He had demanded where she had come from. Her retort had been, “Your savior.”

  “Azarius?”

  He shook his head, coming out of the memory and taking Lana in. Since that night, Morgan had proclaimed that unless she was made leader, they would meet their end. She was trained in magic, in witchcraft. She could protect them. It made his blood boil, but he had bowed to her every wish.

  And to this day, he knew nothing about their leader. How she had known about their fate and what her intentions were. As her second in command, he had pushed for answers to only get punished in return. It was always done publicly too. Every time he stepped outside of the line, he greeted the whipping post like an old lover. The leather would snap and bite into his skin, and he always said nothing. He took it and walked away, swearing to all gods above that he would get revenge and would free his people from her.

  Lana had always had her suspicions, but neither of them ever said anything aloud. Morgan always knew. Lana wouldn’t risk him getting hurt further—enough scars ridged his back as it was. That was until tonight.

  “Azarius...” Her voice caressed him, a thousand unsaid things flying between them in that moment.

  He pushed on, crumbling. “I brought Memphis Carter and my twin brother, Alby, to her. To assess for trial. I was so angry that my brother was part of this rebellion that hid for years. That I almost died helping a princess that came back from the dead.

  “You are my world, Lana, and they all almost ripped the chance to see you again from me. I knew what would happen. I knew Morgan would never see reason or be fair. But I didn’t care. All I could think about was that while we were living in this world of darkness, a group more powerful than you and I could ever imagine was slumbering while thousands of people died. We could have died.

  “I wanted them punished. Lana, because I almost dared to hope that they would make a difference.”

  Rebellion. The word, the meaning, the thought behind it was an ember softly pulsing in his darkness. It was greater than he would have ever hoped. But now his brother and the rebellion were just as broken as he was. Just as lost.

  Lana leaned in close, kissing his jawline softly. “This is far from over yet. Come with me. I need to show you something that I should have shown you long ago.”

  He took her in. Her lips curved sadly in the night as she held out her hand to him, beckoning him to come with her down a road filled with mystery and question. His fingers met hers, warm and reassuring.

  His heart pounded against his ribcage, and he was too tired. Too confused. Too scared about the forces circling their world and the leaders that had broken it, leaving them in ruin. He had survived in Adair’s darkness for so long. Under Morgan’s tyranny, Azarius had become a shadow of himself.

  He always had picked up the pieces, and like every other day, he followed the only thing that made sense to him in this life-Lana. Pulling away, she draped the robe around her, her dark hair tumbling. Quickly, he dressed, his alertness bleeding into his panic with each second. Her eyes were luminous as they devoured him.

  Swallowing hard, her words broke down the last of his sanity, his hope. “Azarius, I have not been honest with you.”

  A cold wind spun around him, churning the contents of their room. His breath stilled, ice running though his veins. Silently, she nodded for him to follow, and he did the only thing that he could: Trying to keep his ability steady, he followed her out of their room, weaving through the darkness toward the kitchen.

  He grappled to get back to their suspended moment, in the safety of each other’s arms, in the blanket of the night. His heart dropped, and in his gut, he knew he was already chasing after a lost memory. His reality held a different story to be told, and the cracks of darkness fused within him, holding him steady as he prepared himself for what he was about to hear.

  Chapter Five

  Emory

  The darkness kissed her, embraced her. Squinting, Emory tried to make sense of where she was but was met with a black, dense wall. Sweat pooled at the base of her neck, warmth flaring through her body. Fear choked her then as she gulped down stale air. She knew she wasn’t alone because she felt them before they said anything.

  “Emory, you need to wake up.” Memphis’s voice, just barely a whisper, caressed her.

  Right beside her left ear, another voice sounded. “Em, wake up.” Brokk’s rough voice was harsh and clear, but she felt her body still being pulled, pulled down into the black abyss.

  A third voice then sounded; one she could only recognize from her dreams. “Emory, darling, wake up.” Her mother. Her voice danced all around her, and she clawed blindly, trying to connect with her lost friends and family. Trying to find them.

  Silence landed heavy, and a putrid smell enveloped her senses. It smelled of rotting meat. Bile rose in her throat as a she felt a slimy, boney hand wrap hard around her wrists, pulling her toward it. She couldn’t scream; she couldn’t move.

  Sweat drenched every inch of her body as the creature she couldn’t make out leaned closer, whispering right in front of her, “Emory, I have found you.” Swivelling around, she was met with darkness until the monster pulled her closer, its breath tickling her ear. “And you belong to me.”

  The knife slid in between her ribs, pain blossoming, and cackles spun around her. Then, she was dragged down into the darkness.

  Screams tore from her chest as she shot up. Drenched in a cold sweat, it took her several minutes to register where she was and the guard standing at the foot of her bed, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. She screamed again, pulling her blankets around her, her nightdress clinging to her curves.

  “Who gave you permission to be in here?” she demanded.

  Smirking arrogantly, he said, “I did.”

  Blinking, she recognized the man as the same one that guarded her down in the cells. Rubbing her eyes, she tried to shake the
feeling of that damp death-like hold of the creature in her dream.

  She pointed to the door. “Get the hell out.”

  He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “It’s time to start your day. The king awaits.” Throwing a bundle at the bottom of her bed, he turned his back, briskly stating, “You have five minutes to get ready. I’ll wait outside.”

  Shutting the door, he left her in stark silence.

  It was time.

  Panic clutched her heart, squeezing it, threatening to break it. She couldn’t breathe. The walls seemed stretched too thin.

  She could do this—she had to do this. Emory would grant the rebels the time they needed, the time she needed. Dying wasn’t an option. Besides, she was already dead to the people who had believed in her.

  Leaning forward with shaking hands, she opened the parcel. Several stacks of light black clothes spilled out, including shirts, pants, and undergarments. A blood red sash sat atop them all. Lovely. Sitting on top all of this, though, was a light, sheer, gold chest plate. Squinting, she leaned closer to inspect it. Markings she didn’t recognize adorned all the edges, and its sheerness was unearthly. She was so close, her breath was fogging it, her reflection lost. Strong leather buckles joined at the shoulders; its back plate just as impressive. She shimmied out of bed, quickly dropping the armor.

  Emory went through the motions of getting dressed numbly. Braiding her long ebony hair back, she looked in the mirror behind her. She didn’t recognize the woman standing before her, the stark cheekbones, emptiness in her eyes, bruised skin underneath them. Tying her sash tightly, she set her resolve.

  Emory Fae of Earth was dead.

  Everything had led up to this moment.

  Her parents shaped their world, defying the paths they were told to go down: A warrior from the Shattered Isles and a Prince of Kiero were never supposed to break away and build a refuge—The Academy—for peace. In her heart, Emory knew they had made mistakes, but their life’s dream was to fight and to ensure everyone, no matter their ability, would have a place to call home.

  Emory loosened a breath. She would not let her parents’ dream die. If Adair wanted a challenge, he would get one. She would make him pay. For her family. Her friends. For herself.

  Grabbing the chest plate, she stepped outside her room, meeting the guard. He dipped his head at her, eyeing the armor curiously but not saying a word. Leading her down the spiraling staircase into the hallway below them, she fell into step with him.

  This world was bleak, consisting of cold stone and regimented life; they traveled in silence. Curious now, she inspected the guard out of the corner of her eye. He was around her age with dark brown hair and kind eyes. What had happened to him, to get him here? She clenched her jaw, controlling the anger that was bubbling inside.

  Kiero had bled, the open wound festering, until all that was left was an infection that still spread. Entire lives had been compromised, and she should have been here to change that course. Adrenaline poured through her, heating her core: Good. Good. She would use this; she would not be afraid.

  They stepped into the activity of the main hallway, soldiers throwing curious glances their way.

  “This way,” the guard barked at her, and they veered left into a smaller, narrower hallway, causing them to walk in single file.

  The temperature dropped several degrees, and goosebumps erupted over her body. Several more minutes of walking in silence passed, and Emory couldn’t handle it anymore.

  “Do I get the name of my valiant watchdog?” she purred at his back, feigning courage.

  He rolled his shoulders once, and she could sense his tension. “No.”

  Fair enough. She had no retort to that, and instead settled with drinking in her surroundings. Deep green moss speckled the cavern walls, visible moisture making them slick. They must be heading into the bellows of this hive, even lower than the cells. Light from the lanterns danced at them as they passed, causing shadows and her mind to run with their mystery.

  She recalled everything Memphis had taught her, clenching and unclenching her hands. Breathing in, she felt that deep well of power within her lift its head, acknowledging that it was there. She wasn’t alone. Over the months that had passed, ever since she had stepped foot back into Kiero, her ability had grown. The power collecting in her core, pumping through her veins, echoing her thoughts. My lifeline.

  It grew every day, and she had banked her entire plan on that. Risked her life on it. She would be trained and turned into the weapon Adair wanted, but she would use her skills on him, to kill and take back her throne. With that thought, a cool resolve settled over her as they approached the ancient door before them, the king smirking sickly beside it.

  After a quick nod to the guard, Adair’s eyes appraised her as he took her in, practically purring, “Good morning, Emory. I see my parcel has found you well.”

  His voice was liquid fire, and it ignited her. She stood as silent as the stone walls around her, studying him. He wore nearly identical clothes as yesterday except a loose belt hung from his waist that was adorned with different sizes of vials and daggers. So, it begins.

  Adair chuckled at her lack of reply and swung the door open, motioning for her to walk inside. Just her. She didn’t look back at the guard as she followed.

  They entered a cavern the size of a small gym, different posts with a strange glass bowl hanging from each. Except for this, the room was weaponless and silent.

  She tried to still her racing heart as he spoke. “You wish to join my forces, but I am very selective about my soldiers. Only the quickest, smartest, and most powerful succeed here. Usually, I have scouts watch the potential subject to decide his or her worth. Loyalty lies with safety, and in my world, you are safe with me.”

  A spark lit in his eyes as he stared her down hungrily. “You have succeeded in not only disappearing for the last six years without a trace but have gained the rebels’ trust, and dare I say, love, only to break all of that to finally reunite with me, desiring your title as Queen. A title that you will have to work for, seeing as you are my most potential and dangerous subject ever. But I must admit, Emory, that I am intrigued by your alliances. Maybe my efforts all those years ago weren’t in vain.”

  Snapping his fingers, an electric blue flame ignited, blazing against each glass bowl, casting the room with their glow.

  The retort broke through her lips before she could think twice. “Been learning some new tricks, I see?”

  His smirk was as sharp as a sword’s edge. “You can’t even begin to imagine.” His gaze trailed down her arm to where she still clung to the armor. Mouth quirking, his dark eyes shone as he breathed, “Ah yes. This brings me to my next thought. I have had this specially made for you. Its metal is very rare and only found in the Draken Mountains. Feather light, it will mold itself to your body, and I have made some slight adjustments from there.” His lips curled up, and the pit in her stomach grew deeper, every fiber in her body telling her this was bad.

  “During these trials, this armor not only will measure your body’s strength and stamina, but your ability’s strength and stamina, for my own personal records. If I should catch a hint that you are here to inflict harm on me and my court, then with my control, a poison trigger system will activate and inject into your blood, killing you within seconds.” Adair spoke low, looking at her with malice in his eyes, waiting for her to react.

  Dread pooled in her stomach, but she gritted her teeth and bowed her head in acknowledgement. She had to make him believe, to trust her.

  “Well then, the choice is easy. You should have nothing to fear.” Again, he studied her with those calculating eyes, weighing her reaction as he nonchalantly toyed with her life.

  With surprisingly steady hands, Emory lifted the gleaming piece over her head and slipped it on over her clothes. It reminded her of every horror movie she had ever watched. Like a live organism, the metal moved and shrunk, slinking underneath her clothes until it expanded over her skin, covering
her chest, breasts, upper back, and just stopping before her lower back. Gasping, her pulsed raced, trying not to panic as she felt the chest plate bite into her bare skin, latching on.

  As she felt the warm trickles of blood running down her stomach and lower back, it was with all her self-control that she didn’t rip his throat out then and there. She had to bow and beat him at his own game. And he was radiating, like this was the best day of his life. If she died, it would be. It was torture to know that at one touch, her ability would cause Adair’s power to be at her disposal. She could so easily flip the coin if given the opportunity. Buy the Rebellion the time they need to act, she reminded herself.

  He circled her, popping the black collar of his jacket up. “Now, the rules are simple. You will drink this vial, and it will initiate a series of events that you will undergo. I will be on the defensive side of each simulation. Defeat me, and the blue flame will turn gold, triggering the next test. You pass this, and then I will reward you with a training session. This will continue until you have earned my trust. From there, we can talk about your proposal.”

  She took in this Dark King, a thousand emotions charging through her. Half of her felt lost, longing for the Rebellion, for her friends that were dead because of him: For Memphis, for his familiarity. For Brokk, and guilt pushed at the thought of him. She should have given Brokk more of a chance, should have been more open with him about how she felt returning to Kiero. How she only remembered him as a nightmare—thanks to Memphis.

  Anger, steady and consuming, ate away at her thoughts. She believed in the Black Dawn Rebellion. She believed in the Academy, and even if she didn’t remember all the details of her past, one thing she knew for certain, Adair had slaughtered her parents. Had burned their dreams, the gains, and peace in Kiero. His madness had corrupted the minds of his kingdom and had incinerated the idea of a democratic society. He was a fearmonger, preying and thriving off the bloodshed and destruction he had caused. He was a tyrant who had been unchained for far too long.