Tempest (The Chronicles of Winterset Book 2) Page 22

  “What’s wrong, Princess? Has being in my dungeon worn you out?”

  “Why are you torturing me?” I choked out. “Why not just kill me and get it over with?”

  “Kill you?” Zaros laughed loudly. “I don’t intend on killing you. You know that. What I do intend on doing is breaking you.”

  My eyes opened wide as he pulled out a large dagger and a whip. He shoved the dagger through the thin material of my dress and cut it from my body leaving me in only my undergarments. I cried out, my body trembling as he ran the cold blade down my chest.

  “I can see why my son was so taken with you,” he mused, eyeing me hungrily. “You know, when we bring him back, he is going to carve his initials right here.” He traced a spot over my heart with his blade, an ugly look on his face. “You’ll be his forever. And mine, too, of course.”

  “You’re sick,” I sobbed, the final bit of tears I had in my body snaking their way down my cheeks.

  “I am.” He grinned wickedly at me. He struck me hard with the whip, and I screamed out as it slashed across my bare skin. “You cannot use your powers in this room, my dear. I’m going to break that spirit of yours like a wild horse. You’re going to bleed for me. Scream for me. Beg me to end it, but I won’t, and you know why?”

  I continued to cry as he neared my ear, his lips barely touching it.

  “Because you deserve it. You deserve it for not coming when I called to you. You deserve it for lying to Calixto about loving him. You’re like your mother. A liar. I know of the engagement to the Prince of Bornia. You think an alliance with the spring court will save you from the shadows?”

  The whip lashed against my skin over and over and over. Blood leaked from the open gashes, and I gasped as he took my face roughly in his hand and squeezed it.

  “You will bleed every day I own you, Analia Rose, Princess of Dar’ish,” he snarled fiercely at me. “And when I’m not making you bleed, the Mortae will be. Make no mistake.”

  He hit me across the face with his hand, and my head lolled to the side, my body broken and exhausted, bloodied and whipped. I thought he’d finished with me, but I was wrong. The torment continued for what felt like hours before he pressed a tender kiss to my bleeding forehead and left me hanging there.

  Chapter 50

  I want to say that was the last time Zaros visited me, but I’d be lying. Over the course of the next week he came for me, beating me to the point I was certain my body was unrecognizable. I barely maintained consciousness through most of it. He made sure to make up for the parts I wasn’t around for by torturing me harder during my waking hours. He swore he’d break me, and he almost had. But I kept seeing my brother’s face, my mother’s, my father’s, Kellin’s, Rowan’s, Tarek’s ...all of them. I kept holding on so I could save them. I didn’t want them to suffer my fate.

  After a particularly nasty thrashing, I was hanging when the threat of a vision hit me hard. My head screamed at me worse than my broken body did. I didn’t fight it. As much as it hurt, it was a welcomed release.

  It was unmistakably Calix as a child, his dark hair falling in his midnight colored eyes as he played with a wooden sword. His mother watched fondly as she sipped her tea. His older brother, Xalvador, played beside him, his dark hair and matching dark eyes bright and happy. They swung their swords at one another. Xalvador failed to duck in time, and Calix’s sword came down on his face, causing the skin around his brow to splinter and burst open. His bright red blood painted Calix’s sword.

  Calix jumped back, startled, before getting his bearings about him and helping Xalvador to their mother’s waiting arms.

  “I’m sorry, Mother. It was an accident.” Calix cried out, his dark eyes wild.

  “I know, sweetheart,” his mother cooed, pressing a cloth to Xalvador’s eye. When she pulled it away, there was a deep cut and she sighed. “Calixto, call for the palace healer—”

  “No, Mother.” Xalvador pushed away from her. “I wish to wear this scar as a symbol of my first battle.”

  “Xal,” she scolded.

  “Please, Mother,” Xalvador begged.

  She let out a sigh and relented.

  “That is a true warrior,” a deep voice boomed, and Zaros stalked forward, his black robes billowing behind him. He didn’t look the way I’d seen him. Instead of the alabaster skin with black veins, he looked like a normal man, his beard thick and his voice stern. “Xalvador doesn’t cry when he gets hurt. He doesn’t beg for mercy. That is a future king.”

  Xalvador beamed at his father, a tiny trail of blood leaking from his cut.

  “But you—” Zaros turned to Calix. “—you are weak. You rushed to a woman to save you.”

  He reached out and punched the tiny Calix in the stomach, causing him to double over and fall to the ground. His mother rose to her feet and went to Calix’s aide, but Zaros struck her across the face, sending her to the ground beside her son.

  “Weakness breeds weakness,” Zaros spat at her as she covered Calix with her quivering body. “The boy is as useless as his mother. I’d have you strung up by your neck by now had you not given me Xalvador. Thank him.”

  “Thank you, Xalvador,” his mother called out to her eldest son.

  Zaros landed a kick to her ribs, and she rolled over clutching herself.

  “Father,” Xalvador whispered, staring horror-stricken at his mother and brother on the ground. “Please.”

  “Don’t ever beg.” Zaros snapped at him. “Only the weak and broken beg. You are neither. You’ll be a king someday. Act like it. Punish them.”

  “Father,” Xalvador started again, his small voice shaking.

  “Do it,” Zaros bellowed.

  Xalvador stepped forward and looked pleadingly at his cowering mother. She nodded sadly at him, giving him permission for his abuse. He closed his eyes and sent a volley of earth and rocks at his mother and brother. They cowered beneath it until it became too strong and overcame them. When he stopped, both lay unconscious on the ground, and Xalvador’s eyes shone bright with his unshed tears.

  “Well done, Son.” Zaros beamed proudly down at him. “You’re the future of Winterset.”

  Zaros pulled Xalvador away, who continued to look behind him at his passed-out mother and brother. Zaros gestured for his guards to call for a healer.

  The image faded away. Then I was pummeled with scenes of Calix and Xalvador growing up, Xalvador always the apple of Zaros’s eye while Calix was always brutally punished. I pushed through vision after vision of Calix caring for people, for animals, and Zaros finding out only to punish him harshly. He even left him to hang naked in the dungeons while the guards beat him with whips. Sometimes Zaros joined in, just like he was doing to me.

  The scenes slowed down to a vision of their mother holding Calix out in a field of flowers, her smile loving.

  “Don’t show your father fear, my love. It’s what he feeds on. When night falls, we’ll leave here with your brother and never look back,” she said, choked up.

  “Mother, won’t he search for us?”

  “He will, but he’ll never find us,” she said, hugging him. “I’d sooner die than live this life.”

  The scene faded to night. I watched, my heart aching as I knew what was to come.

  Calix and Xalvador quietly made their way down to where they were to meet their mother. They peered out from behind a bush as they saw her standing in the dark with a man.

  “And where do you think you’re going,” Zaros whispered dangerously.

  “I only wished to go for a walk,” she replied evenly. If I didn’t know better, I’d have believed her.

  “Lies,” Zaros shouted, his guards coming forth and surrounding them.

  Calix moved to run for his mother, but Xalvador clutched him tightly and shook his head no.

  “You were planning on running off with my sons,” Zaros said darkly, his dark robes billowing in the night air. “I forgive you.”

  “Excuse me, my lord?” she said, clearly confu
sed.

  “I said, I forgive you. Do you forgive me?”

  “Forgive you for what, my lord?” she asked.

  “This,” he hissed plunging a dagger into her chest.

  She made no sound as she stared at him, her eyes wavering in the moonlight. I tried to look away but couldn’t. It was like watching a train wreck—horrifying, yet fascinating.

  She fell to her knees and touched the blade in her chest as Zaros circled her like a predator. Calix silently wept, and Xalvador hugged him tightly, tears shining in his eyes.

  Zaros pulled out his sword and, in one fluid movement, pushed it through her abdomen. She fell forward on the sword, and Calix let out a guttural scream, breaking free from his brother. He rushed to his mother as Zaros jerked the blade from her midsection, her blood soaking the ground around them.

  “Mother.” Calix wept, clinging to her. “Mother.”

  “Be b-brave,” she sputtered out, her mouth filling with her blood. “The Oracle comes. S-she will save… you.”

  She closed her eyes, and the night went silent, with the exception of Calix’s soft sobs as he laid his head on his dead mother.

  “Are you angry with me, boy?” Zaros asked.

  “No,” Calix whispered, staring up at Zaros.

  “Really?” Zaros asked, his eyebrows raised.

  “It is as it should be,” Calix answered, rising to his feet.

  Zaros watched as Calix walked away, disappearing into the night.

  “I will await the Oracle.”

  The visions swirled, and I saw Calix grow even older.

  He spent most of his time alone, content with hunting and whittling wood. Zaros still tortured him whenever he could. Xalvador grew into a strong, young man, but Calix never bore him any ill will. In fact, they seemed close. Xalvador took time to teach Calix how to hold a sword, and they’d practice in the dead of night outside the palace walls.

  The announcement was made that Xalvador would wed a child from the south. King Lauris and Queen Emmeline of Dar’ish’s daughter. Xalvador accepted it without question and did everything Zaros asked of him. Zaros was proud of Xalvador and despised Calix even more as the days wore on.

  And then a war broke out.

  The Outlanders, the Ascarians, were angry, and they attacked. In the coming days, Calix noticed Xalvador becoming edgier and edgier, and more withdrawn. Zaros sent Xalvador to the Gate of Hollows to protect an outlying village. Xalvador went forth, but not before going to Calix.

  “Brother, I won’t return from this battle,” Xalvador spoke quickly. “I’m not like the rest. I don’t belong here any longer. You should run when you get the chance.”

  “What?” Calix asked fearfully. “What do you mean?”

  “Mother never told you what she was? Where she was from?”

  “No,” Calix replied, confused.

  “Mother was a shifter, Calix. She hailed from the mountains of Ascaria. They’re out for blood. They want Lor’Lak to burn.”

  “A shifter?”

  “Yes, Mother was a princess of Ascaria. They’ve learned of her murder. They went all these years thinking she died from the rattles. Now they know the truth. I won’t be coming back, Calix. Take the opportunity to flee. When you see my bride-to-be, tell her I’m sorry.”

  “Wait,” Calix called out, rushing to his brother’s side. “I’ll come with you—”

  “You can’t, Brother. You have your own destiny. Remember what mother told you? Leave at dusk. Take the side wall, the one with the hidden opening. Flee into the dark wood and wait for help. I’ll find you. Be brave. You have to do this. Our destinies will cross again someday. I must go,” Xalvador said, pulling Calix in for a tight embrace. “The Oracle comes. If something should happen, seek her out. She’s the key to saving us all.”

  Xalvador pushed away, leaving Calix all alone.

  The image shifted. Calix sat alone, holding Xalvador’s sword in his hands, his eyes filled with tears.

  “You’re the future of Lor’Lak now,” Zaros said, coming to Calix’s side. “I’ve hated you since you were born. However, you are my son, and as such, I expect you to make me proud.”

  “But you’ll never love me,” Calix murmured, looking out at the setting sun.

  “How can one ever love a thorn in their side?” Zaros grumbled. “Xalvador’s bride-to-be falls to you. You’ll marry Analia of Dar’ish in his stead, bear children with her, and become king. We’ll take over starting with Dar’ish.”

  “I don’t wish to take over, nor do I wish to marry the Princess of Dar’ish,” Calix replied hollowly.

  “You don’t get a choice,” Zaros snapped. “Ready up. We ride for Dar’ish at nightfall.”

  The scene faded again. Calix arrived at the gates of Dar’ish with Zaros at his side. They were allowed to enter and were brought to the throne room, where my mother and father greeted them. After the greeting, they went to the grand hall where they ate together.

  Zaros stared longingly at my mother, and she gave him her kind smile, her eyes wavering.

  “We’re here so my only surviving heir can meet his future bride,” Zaros spoke loudly. “In addition, we require assistance.”

  “We’re sorry to hear about the loss of Prince Xalvador.” My father inclined his head sadly. “Our deepest condolences.”

  “Yes, well, if you’d send aid during this time, we’d greatly appreciate it. Our walls are only so thick, and the Ascarians demand blood,” Zaros said evenly.

  “Why do the Ascarians demand blood?” Father asked, sitting forward. “The changelings are said to be a peaceful people. They keep to themselves so much that no one even knows where to locate their kingdom.”

  “They blame me for Melaina’s death.” Zaros leveled his gaze on my father.

  “And are you to blame for the death of your queen?”

  “I’m to blame for many things. Will you send aid?”

  “We will not,” Father answered, sitting back in his seat, surveying Zaros with a look of confusion and disgust.

  Zaros looked like he was ready to rush my father and plunge a blade into his heart. He stared over to my mother.

  “Emmeline,” he started. “If you won’t aid us, will you please show my son his future wife?”

  My mother rose hesitantly to her feet and left the room only to return with me on her hip, my hair a shock of white on my head. I was truly a beautiful child, just as I’d heard. I couldn’t have been more than two years old. Calix eyed me closely as my mother approached. Soran entered the room and stood off to the side, watching the proceedings. I could tell he was an overprotective older brother as he eyed Calix from afar.

  I reached my tiny hand out as I neared Calix, and he instinctively repeated the motion with his own hand. His eyes brightened as he took me in, his breath hitching in his chest. My small hand connected with his, and there were sparks, a flame bursting from our intertwined hands. It danced in brilliant color, just as Soran had spoken of. The greens, reds, oranges, purples, pinks, and blues all shimmered in the fire.

  My mother yanked me away from Calix and Zaros. Calix immediately went after Soran, who’d pushed me and my mother behind him, but the guards intervened, their swords drawn.

  “You will leave this palace at once,” Father bellowed, on his feet, his own sword drawn. “You’ll leave and never return. Our arrangement is off. May the Ascarians tear your palace down brick by brick, you horrid creature.”

  Zaros pulled himself up to his full height and grabbed Calix. Calix threw him off and lunged for me again. He attacked the guards, and a fight broke out. He whipped and spun around the room, knocking men to their knees as he tried to reach me. Soran drew his sword and pushed his way forward. He was able to knock Calix to his knees, holding his sword at Calix’s throat.

  “You’ll do as my father has commanded,” Soran spoke dangerously. “You’ll forget about my baby sister, and you’ll return to your palace. If you don’t, I’ll kill you.”

  Calix put his hand
s in the air and rose to his feet. He backed away slowly, his hands still up.

  “We’ll meet again, Soran of Dar’ish. And when we do, I’ll take your sister from you,” Calix said in a deadly whisper. “She belongs to me. My flame. My Oracle.”

  Chapter 51

  My eyes sprung open, my chest heaving as I tried to suck in air. I knew who Tarek was.

  I had to get out of there. I had to break free. I closed my eyes, my head still aching, and focused all I could on him.

  Tarek.

  He was seated in my father’s War Room, listening intently as Soran ranted about saving me by invading Zaros’s palace. Other men, soldiers, stood about, frowning.

  “We cannot simply walk into Lor’Lak,” Kellin answered. “We’d have to make it through his entire kingdom, the shadow court, before we even reached the palace doors. Our presence wouldn’t go unnoticed. The plan is doomed to fail before it even begins.”

  “Then what do you suggest, Niall?” Soran shouted. “My sister, your future bride, is being tortured by the hand of Zaros as we speak. You can’t portal into Lor’Lak. There are wards set up against those kinds of things unless you have permission or you’re a Shadowmoore. So, what are we left with? Tell me because right now, we need a plan, and this is the best we have.”

  “It’s not a plan for her survival. It’s a plan for our death,” Kellin yelled back.

  “I blame you for this.” Soran swallowed hard, his voice deadpan. “You allowed her to go with us. You swore to protect her. You failed her.”

  Kellin’s eyes wavered at Soran’s words. I watched helplessly as my father tried to intervene. I wasn’t there to listen to them argue. I was there for Tarek.

  “Tarek,” I called out, not sure how to go about doing this. “Tarek.”

  He continued to stare off into space, ignoring everything happening around him, clearly lost in thought.

  I reached out and focused on touching him. I brushed my fingers against his face gently, and he shifted in his seat. Excited that I may have gotten through to him, I tried again. This time he looked around, his brows furrowed.