Demon Untamed (43 page)

Movement drew both of their attentions back. A small child with light metallic-purple hair peeked around a corner.

“Hi,” Anya said sweetly.

The child ducked away.

Cale grumbled, “Do you want me to go get it?”

Kyra swatted him in the chest. “He’s not an it.”

He shrugged while Anya corrected them both. “She.”

The child peered at them again curiously yet frightened and then hurried away. 

It looked as though Anya wanted to chase after the girl, but Sebastian caught her by the elbow. “Let’s move on,” he said. “We’ll worry about rounding up survivors later.”

The closer they got to the palace, the more impressed Sonya became by the sheer size of it. It towered over the town and looked to have been partially built into the side of the steep mountain at its back.

Anya slowed her pace and grabbed Sebastian’s arm. “There’s more,” she whispered.

Sonya jerked her head around, only seeing plumes of smoke and falling ash.

Sebastian replied, “Can you tell how many?”

“There are a lot of them.”

Sonya and Rex shared a look, setting the gurney with Ethan off to the side. When she again surveyed the area, she caught multiple sets of eyes gazing at them through windows and behind broken carts and walls.

She drew her weapon and bared her teeth. Her only thought was to protect Ethan.

Kyra motioned for her to put the gun away. Like hell. Not when her mate was so vulnerable.

“We’re surrounded,” Cale murmured, unsheathing his own sword.

Rex and the dragons gripped the hilts of their blades.

Kyra put her palms up. “Stop, everyone. Just calm down. They’re probably just scared.”

“My sister is right,” Anya said, stepping forward. “I feel their fear, but there is no aggression—from them, anyway.” She shot Sebastian an accusatory look. Just like with Sonya, the Edge loomed, driving his instinct to douse any threat to his mate.

Whispers erupted around them, and Sonya strained to hear what was being said.

“They’re speculating on who we are,” Cale announced.

At that, Kyra straightened her spine and ordered them all to stow their weapons. Cale and the dragons did as she asked, but Sonya and Rex hesitated. Kyra may be queen of this realm, but Sebastian was still their Captain.

After only a slight hesitation, he gave a nod and they both obeyed.

Kyra took a step forward. “Hello!” she called out. “I am Princess Kyralyn, daughter of King Alestar.” The whispering grew in volume, fanning out in all directions. Kyra continued, “With me are my sisters and allies to our people. You need not fear us.”

After a tense moment, a brave young male popped his head out from behind a building. His wide eyes said he was terrified, but his strong voice carried toward them. “Where are the Kayadon?” he asked.

“They’re gone,” she replied. “For now.”

“They are never gone.”

“Well, they’re not here.”

An older gentleman appeared from behind the rubble and hesitantly approached. Sonya stepped back and crouched over Ethan’s unconscious body. She didn’t get the sense that the old man was a threat, but tendrils of the Edge were muddying her mind. Nothing and no one was to come near him until she felt it was safe.

She watched with a narrowed gaze as Kyra spoke to the old man and it became apparent that they recognized each other from before.

The old man grew ecstatic and turned to yell, “It’s true! They have returned!”

More Faieara emerged to investigate, and the whispering grew to a roar that slowly dissipated as the news made its way through the city. Sonya’s mind raged as they neared in growing numbers.

She felt a warm hand on her shoulder, and bared her fangs at its owner.

Rex remained undaunted by her display. He peered down at her, offering a reassuring expression. “It’s alright. Your male is safe.”

It took a moment for his words to register, and another moment to fight of the madness off the Edge. Slowly, she stood and shot him an appreciative nod, which Rex returned.

The old man went to one knee in front of Kyra and bowed his head. Those near him followed his lead, and then in a wave the rest of the Faieara knelt.

Astonishing, Sonya thought, that their loyalty still remained with the king and his royal line after all this time.

Chapter 37

The Palace

Twelve days later

Sonya reluctantly unwrapped her arm from around Ethan’s torso and eased out from under the covers. Wearily, she crossed to the hearth and studied the pile of flickering fire crystals. When intact, they provided a continuous source of light. Once cracked open, they offered heat for a time. And when drained, their bright red-orange hue turned clear, and their surfaces almost cold to the touch. During the first few days after arriving at the palace, she’d taken great pleasure in smashing them against the back of the fireplace. Now she merely tossed one in with enough force to rend it in two.

A little over a week had gone by with no change in Ethan’s condition. His wounds still weren’t healing.

A soft knock sounded at the chamber room door. Sonya knew it could only be one person. Apparently, Anya was alone in her ability to endure Sonya’s surly demeanor, probably because she could sense the underlying dread that caused it.

“Come in,” Sonya called, cringing at the scratchiness in her own voice. The sound would only give Anya cause to encourage her to get some fresh air, or worse, join the festivities that persisted throughout the palace and surrounding village. The Faieara had been celebrating the return of what was left of the royal family nearly nonstop, preceded by a time of mourning for the fallen king.

According to Anya, her father had been very ill, surviving only because the Kayadon had forced healers upon him, or so one of the restored Kayadon had claimed. And with no available healers, he’d succumbed to death quickly.

Anya tentatively peeked her head in, and then stepped inside. She wore a gloriously deep purple gown created solely for her by a miniature army of fawning seamstresses. Seamstresses who had also attempted to take Sonya’s measurements…once.

It always shocked Sonya to see Anya actually looking like a princess, a far cry from the little Faieara’s ragged beginnings and skittish demeanor. It seemed like only yesterday when she’d been hoofing it by Sonya’s side through the forest in dirty, battle-torn garments, racing for the palace. At the time, it had felt like an eternity before they’d reached the palace. Looking back, it had probably taken less than half a day.

What Sonya and the others hadn’t known then, was that Portia and her cohorts had utilized some of the power from the Faieara’s bubble of destruction to weave a strong protective ward around the palace, the city, and beyond. They still weren’t sure how far the shield stretched, but no un-healed Kayadon had been seen within since the battle.

They were out there, however. Not all the Kayadon had been eliminated—or healed from the disease that coursed in their veins, mangling their bodies and slowly killing them. Some had been too far away to be affected at all.

Anya offered one of her trademark smiles, full of loving concern coupled with a fair amount of beseeching. “I came to see how you’re doing.”

“Same as last time,” Sonya snapped, regretting it instantly. Seemed she always regretted her harsh tone as of late, but Ethan’s condition made her more churlish than ever and she couldn’t keep from snapping at everyone who spoke to her.

Anya strode forward to stand beside the bed, glancing down at Ethan with a crestfallen expression. “He will come back to you.”

A mixture of feelings battled within Sonya: Irritation, because no one could know for sure. Sorrow, because it hadn’t happened yet. And a heartsick, soul ripping hope that pained her more than the other two combined.

As always, Anya gave her a knowing look before changing the subject. “You need to eat, Sonya. You need to get up and be around people who love you.”

Thus far, Sonya had divided her time between sleeping next to Ethan, sitting near the fire, and pacing the room. When she was alone, she tried begging Ethan to wake up, pleading with all the pain that filled her heart. And when that didn’t work, she turned to empty threats, such as biting him against his will.

Food and conversation had no place in her routine. And seeing the joy in others, the happiness, merely served to strengthen the bitter misery that was her only companion.

She shook her head.

“Please come join us, just for a little bit,” Anya continued. “You should not be mourning him as if he is already gone.” She lowered her gaze, affected by own words, and Sonya grew guilty. Anya had watched her father’s passing not but days ago, and Sonya hadn’t even been in the right state of mind to be a source of comfort for her friend. Still wasn’t.

“Have any healers come forward?” Sonya said, staring into the blaze of the fire. Turned out every available healer had been kept in the palace dungeon, courtesy of the Kayadon. However, the lot had escaped sometime during the scuffle, disappearing into the forest to only the gods knew where.

Anya gave a slow shake of her head, and then glanced sorrowfully at Ethan’s still form.

Sonya pelted another fire crystal into the pit. It shattered on impact.

Anya jumped, but made no response.

Sonya wished she could blame the healers, whoever they were, but after hearing what they’d endured over the length of their captivity, well, she would have clawed her way free too.

Anya turned to a more manipulative tactic. “If you don’t take care of yourself, you won’t have the strength to care for him.”

Sonya produced her most murderous glare, but Anya just gave a thin lipped smile, knowing she had won a small victory.

With a heavy sigh, Sonya relented. “Fine, I’ll be out in a moment.”

Anya gave a nod of approval and then left, no doubt to warn the others.

Sonya sat on the bed next to Ethan, struggling to harden her emotions for the task ahead. She brushed a strand of his hair behind his beautifully pointed ear and leaned down to kiss the tip before whispering, “I love you, you stupid pirate. You promised I was stuck with you, and that means all of you. So you had better damn well come back to me soon.”

She kissed him softly on the lips and then crossed to the door, prepared to defend against the depressing barrage of happy she was about to immerse herself in.

* * *

Ethan took a step back from the inviting fields, smothered in that ethereal warmth, and turned away as a heavy bout of anxiety assailed him. “I don’t know,” he said to Oxnel. “It doesn’t feel like that’s where I belong. Not yet.” When he tried to meet the other male’s gaze, the world rolled and twisted into something new.

“Ivan?” Ethan’s voice rippled from his lungs.

Ivan tilted his head up and smiled. He stood alone in a darkened meadow, hands stretched out over a burning fire. Three moons fanned out over the sky. Beyond the darkness, veiled behind a wall of surrounding forest, several sets of red eyes sparkled.

“I was wondering when you’d get here,” Ivan declared.

“Am I late?”

“You had me worried. I was about to send out a search party.”

For some reason, Ethan took offense. “You know me better than that. I don’t need saving.”

“Don’t you?” He rubbed his hands together as if the air around him was freezing and then placed them back over the fire. “Ah,
lun feist
.”

Suddenly intrigued by the blaze, Ethan stepped forward. The flames surged higher before transforming from a fluid red to a tranquil purple. Atop the embers lay a delicate chain attached to a familiar pendant. Unconcerned by the heat, Ethan reached through the flames to retrieve the item, and then slipped it over his head.

“What have you there?” Ivan asked.

Ethan followed his friend’s curious gaze toward the pendant around his neck. Confused, he lifted it in his palm for closer study. It took him a moment to recall. “Somebody gave this to me.”

“Who be giving you gifts then?”

One by one, in a wave, the glowering eyes from the depths of the forest shifted in color, from burning red to a soft violet. Compelled to find those onlookers, Ethan left Ivan and entered the dark forest.

Shadows whisked past him, taunting him with harrowing noises as if to ward him off. The forest became dense and before long he was shoving past thick repressive branches.

Vines tightened around his arms and legs, holding him back from his goal. The moment he pulled himself free, the ground grew damp, cold, and then pliable, swallowing him to his waist. His legs burned from the effort of forcing himself forward, trudging through the muck. Exhaustion chipped at his resolve, and eventually he could go no farther.

“Stuck…” a voice whispered from the darkness.

His head jerked around to survey the area, but he caught no sign of the speaker. “That’s right!” he challenged. “What are you going to do about it?”

Silence.

“Don’t you dare go!” he yelled. “I need you!” When still he received no response, he doubled his efforts, yanking his body into action, digging his way out of the mud. Finally, he managed to crawl free and raced through the moonlit forest, over the slimy ground faster than it could suck him back down.