The Myths of Ophelia (The Curse of Ophelia #4)

Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Malakai

“Handle us a little rougher, why don’t you?” I sneered at the guard whose knife was dangerously close to piercing the skin of my neck. The manacles he’d slapped around my wrists rattled.

“Don’t tempt me,” he mumbled as he dragged me along the halls and wrung his massive hand around my arm. Even through my leathers, my skin burned, but I bit back any show of discomfort, glaring at him.

“Or?”

He dug the knife in, enough that a line of blood trickled down my throat. But I reached deeper within myself, into the place I went during the years I’d been tortured. Into the ghost I’d forced myself to become for each lashing, each hot iron against my flesh, each blade recently sharpened and held tauntingly before me.

To when none of it mattered, because the reason I was there outweighed it all. I dragged up the unfeeling beast I’d let myself become and stared blankly at this Starsearcher guard.

“I’ve had worse,” I said.

“Keep talking and I’ll do my best to top it.” I refused to give him a reaction. “Or maybe she will.” He jerked his chin ahead of us to where a tall female guard led Mila.

Damn fools if they thought she couldn’t take out that woman because she was smaller. Mila could have a grown man on his back faster than many male warriors I knew.

Still, the threat was enough to make me bite my tongue momentarily. To make him think they had an edge here. Clearly, they didn’t realize Mila was a general or that we had both survived torture and walked free.

They’d taken our weapons. Slung them in their own belts and across their backs. Fools. That only kept them within our reach as they led us through a veritable maze of hallways. Sure, our hands may be chained, but the iron links were another weapon.

In this situation, everything was.

This manor was palatial, the chancellor within conceited enough to build himself such a grand home. But it lacked the antiquity of the Revered’s Palace, which stretched back to Damien himself. As the guard shoved me around corners, I took stock of every piece of artwork that marked various halls, counting as I committed the path to memory.

Finally, after twists and turns that were unnecessary given I’d seen the layout of the building, a pair of ivory doors towered ahead, what looked like pure silver outlining the frame and handles.

“Welcoming us for dinner?” I grumbled.

Mila shot me a half-smirk over her shoulder, and I knew we were thinking the same thing. They could do their worst, and we’d survive it together. We’d see all the tomorrows. “They really should learn to treat their guests more kindly,” she intoned.

Her guard gripped her neck, jerking her around aggressively. “No talking.”

“Touch her like that again and I’ll rip off your hand,” I swore, voice lethal.

“You’re digging your own grave with those pointless threats.” Mila’s guard said, flicking her braid over her shoulder. “And this isn’t a dining room.”

Before I could answer, she shoved the door open, and a gleaming chamber laid beyond. Everything from the floors to the towering pillars to the only other exit across the way was carved of ivory and white crystal, shining and inlaid with silver. All except the domed ceiling made of stained glass, twelve panels within, each depicting what I guessed were stories of the Fates. One remained dark, that twelfth Fate that no longer existed.

And beneath it, standing proudly in the center of the room, was Titus, a fine silver silk robe billowing around him.

My heart leapt into my throat.

Where was Barrett?

I didn’t ask on the off chance that Titus hadn’t figured out the Engrossians were part of our plan, but I glared at the chancellor as guards dragged us forward. Until we stood mere feet from their boss.

“Welcome, welcome, Mr. Blastwood.” His eyes traveled over Mila. It took all of my control not to lurch in his direction. “I’m afraid I don’t know you, miss?”

“Mila Lovall.” Her voice rang clear through the room, playing his game of formalities. “General of the Mystique armies. With the status of my title, I command you release me and my soldier from these chains.”

Titus contemplated, not even bristling at her demand. “I believe chancellor outranks general, does it not?”

“And Revered outranks chancellor. Shall we summon her?”

What was Mila saying? She knew full well that Ophelia wouldn’t be able to come here tonight. I flashed her a warning look quickly enough that Titus wouldn’t see.

But the chancellor waved a hand and said, “I don’t think that will be necessary.” His robe swished with the motion, and a pile of soft blue fabric was briefly visible behind him. “Besides, we wouldn’t want to disturb your Revered, would we?”

My stomach bottomed out.

“What are you talking about, Chancellor?” Use his formal title , I reminded myself. Play the game.

“Your Revered is currently…occupied, if I am correct.” He observed mine and Mila’s blank faces. How the fuck did he know where Ophelia was? “Or was that not the plan? I was sure my apprentice had set it up as so.”

A growl rumbled in my chest. That untrustworthy prick, Harlen, sold us out? I swore to Damien?—

The door opened behind Titus, and a man was dragged in. Dragged because he could barely stand, his knees buckling and head drooping.

I hadn’t met Cyph’s Starsearcher contact, but judging by the distress blaring beneath his bruised features, this was the man Cypherion and Ophelia had met with. The one who had concocted this entire scheme to rescue Vale.

And if those injuries said anything, he hadn’t sold us to Titus. No, Titus had figured this out on his own.

Harlen was hauled into the room by two bulky guards, and behind him?—

“What the fuck is this?” I shouldn’t have let the outburst win, but three more figures followed Harlen. Unchained, but very obviously prisoners based on the warriors escorting them.

Panic gripped my chest, ignited by anger.

Barrett, Dax, and Celissia, the latter blinking wide eyes at a spot behind Titus. The general had nothing but a coolly lethal stare for the chancellor, and Barrett maintained the unbothered princely demeanor he often wore in front of others, hands tucked into his pockets.

“Malakai, brother, what are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same,” I answered Barrett, then turned my attention back on Titus. “Prince Barrett is the future Engrossian king, and Celissia is his queen-to-be. Let them and their guard go this instant!”

“Even nobility does not get off when conspiring against other clans.”

In his most regal, bored voice, Barrett drawled, “In what realm have we conspired against you? I thought we were having a rather nice dinner.”

Titus gave Barrett a scolding look. “Denial will not end any of this quicker, Your Royal Highness.”

“To detain them is an act of war,” I countered.

Mila chimed in, “And I believe even here, cowering in the far stretches of the continent, you heard how brutal the Engrossian forces can be.”

“Well, I suppose it’s good the majority of the clan does not support this king apparent.” Titus tilted his head, a creature of cunning and wit. Those years of manipulation when he’d gained his seat being put to use within his mind.

“What are you talking about?” I growled. Barrett’s jaw ground.

“Oh, nothing. Nothing.” Titus picked at a loose thread on his sleeve. “Truthfully, your half-brother and I were having a peaceful visit before you spoiled the fun.” He looked over his shoulder at the Engrossians. “His partner is lovely, by the way.”

I didn’t know if he meant Dax or Celissia, and I thought that was the chancellor’s intention. To show us he was on to their plan. After so many years of secrets and tricks, Titus had learned to spot them in his opponents. We’d been out-manipulated.

Was he any better than Queen Ritalia, wielding other’s lies against them?

Behind Titus, Celissia caught my eye. She inclined her head slightly to the side, toward Titus, but I didn’t understand what she meant.

“Yes,” Mila said, “Celissia is beautiful and kind. Together, they will demonstrate a harmonious rule for the Engrossian clan. But I suggest you release them so that may happen.”

Titus pinched the bridge of his nose as if exhausted by these games. “We have more important things to take care of right now.”

And when the chancellor stepped aside, I saw what Celissia had been gesturing toward.

The world tilted, and my heart rate sped. I clenched my hands, forcing myself to focus through the panic. Vale was sprawled on the floor, her light brown waves fanned out like a starburst around her head. Pale blue dress so out of place against the harsh marble floors, and her eyes closed.

“What did you do to her?” I demanded.

“She’s fine,” Titus said, but Harlen lunged at his master, the move sloppy and weak, one of his ankles seeming gravely injured. The chancellor looked toward his apprentice with disdain. “She is only reading, Harlen.”

“She shouldn’t be unconscious from a reading!” he said through gritted teeth, his cut lip splitting open.

Titus looked adoringly down at Vale. “Sometimes the most powerful sessions take their toll.”

“That’s not how it?—”

“ Silence, Harlen! ” The chancellor’s command bounced off the crystal and stone chamber. “Vale will wake soon. Pay her no heed. We only had to bring you all to this seeing chamber because your timing was so poor.”

My jaw ground as I watched Vale strewn on the floor, willing her to move. The steady rise and fall of her chest promised life, but all I could hear was how Cypherion would scream if something happened to her.

For them, I gave up the game. “Congratulations. You know why we’re here, Titus. What do you want?”

“I want my apprentice to stay here. I want her to remain at my side, conduct readings for me, and to do so happily. I want the girl who looked at me as if I hung the moon for rescuing her to return and do my bidding. But ever since that imbecile left, she has been…difficult.” He sneered over the word. My blood heated at his insinuation of Cypherion.

“Let her go. Let her be her own person.”

“I cannot do that,” Titus said. “I lose her—I lose everything. It was hard enough the months she was gone.”

“Why didn’t you help her, then?” When Ophelia sequestered Vale as a prisoner, Titus did nothing.

“I always intended to get her back. At first, I truly thought the way to fix her readings might be in your mountains, and she was of the most use to me with her magic full. Until I realized the potential of this chamber.” He waved a hand at the pristine pearlescent walls. I didn’t understand what he meant, but he went on, “I’ve relied on a less than satisfactory replacement in her absence. I need her .”

Needed her to be the mask to his sham. Needed her as a wealth of magic and fate. But…Titus didn’t needed Vale. No, he only needed power . Thrived off it.

Cypherion needed her .

And Vale needed…I didn’t know what she needed. Especially not with that tattoo warping her decisions. But she deserved the choice.

I looked Titus dead in the eye. “What will it take?”

“You two,” Titus said, looking between Mila and me, “broke into my home tonight. That alone is worthy of a punishment, regardless of your intentions with my apprentice.”

The way his lips curled over the word punishment sent my stomach churning and palms sweating.

“And they”—the chancellor smoothly inclined his head toward the Engrossians—“entered my manor without honor, intending to fool me. That calls for reprimands, as well. I could allow you all to leave, make you swear you will not repeat your attempts to steal my apprentice, but I doubt that will be enough to placate some of your friends.”

As if to accent his words, a sharp crack echoed through the chamber.

A sound I’d thought I’d left in a cold damp cell within the mountains. Leather snapping against stone in warning. And I knew what came next. Where it would land next.

Swallowing my fear, I dared a look over my shoulder. My guard had drifted away, back toward the door. And from his belt he’d taken a leather whip, warming it against the stone pillars. Only gentle strikes, more to unnerve the prey than to actually serve any purpose.

The scars on my back ached.

Shut it out .

Shut it all out .

“What will it take to let us go?” I repeated.

He lifted his brows in Vale’s direction. “She stays, and I lower the punishment.”

“Not a chance.”

“Then the whip it is.”

My brows pulled together. It was too easy. “So beat us a little bloodier, and then you’ll let Vale go?”

“No.” He shook his head, smiling. “Then, I’ll allow you to walk out of here without breaking your legs.”

Barrett and Dax roared their arguments.

I looked at Mila, at the Engrossians. All so innocent. All so undeserving of the pain waiting at the end of that device.

Mila…I found those crystal blue eyes that had become a source of strength. Mila had been tortured once in her life. For nearly one hundred days she’d suffered. I’d be damned if I allowed it to happen again.

I couldn’t watch it happen. Her gaze pleaded with me as if guessing what I was about to say next.

“Malakai, don’t…” she said softly, as if it was only us.

I couldn’t let any of them endure it.

But I was quiet for too long, apparently. Because the guard behind Mila ripped a blade from her side and held it to Mila’s neck. She swallowed thickly, her throat bobbing against the steel. And still, Mila shook her head to tell me no.

Don’t do this.

You don’t have to.

But it was too much, seeing that glint of silver against her skin. Barrett and Dax were yelling, words I couldn’t make out over the roaring in my ears. Celissia was inching closer to Vale. Harlen was staggering as he tried to stand, tried to help.

Titus ignored them all.

The guard behind Mila waited for a signal, but Mila held her wrist, ready for a chance to fight back.

And it was the tremble of her lips that sealed my fate.

“Fine!” I shouted, and everyone else went silent. “The lashings, broken bones, whatever you demand in order to leave here, but only me. I will take the punishments.”

Mila’s shout was guttural. “ No! ”

I gripped the chain between my wrists. “If you so much as fucking touch any of them, Titus…You can kill me right here, and my spirit will haunt every day of your pathetic life.”

“Not wise to threaten the man calling the shots on your ministrations, Malakai.”

“A lesson I’ve never learned, it appears.”

Titus smirked. “You have my word.”

Too bad your word means nothing , I almost said, thinking of the tattoo inked over Vale’s brand. The one tying her to Titus with a sick and twisted sense of loyalty when the man was supposed to offer her protection.

But because his word was all I had, I swallowed the biting remark.

And I nodded.

Then, I shut out the rattle of Mila’s chains as she struggled against her captor, and the guard behind me shoved me to the floor—blocked out Barrett’s curses at the chancellor as a dagger sliced up the back of my leathers, exposing my scars to the air.

How had I gotten here again? On my knees before a whip. A subject meant for nothing greater than torture. For nothing grander than torment for other’s protection.

I’d take it. I’d accept it as I had every other beating because it kept the people I loved safe. Mila, Barrett… None of them would feel this pain.

And that was the thought I repeated as the first blow landed. As my flesh tore beneath the leather, ripping open the scars I’d healed.

A familiar warmth spread across my back. Blood.

I found Mila’s eyes through the pain, crystal irises glistening with furious tears as she yelled profanities at Titus and the guards. This punishment wouldn’t rip open every scar I’d worked so hard to mend. Not the ones she’d stitched up within me. It would be okay.

The guard behind me shoved my shoulder, the pain across my back searing through my bones.

If I’d completed the Undertaking, I’d heal even faster than my non-ascended warrior blood did. Now, it would likely take all night for the wounds to stitch. Longer probably, given we were further from the mountains than when I’d been whipped before.

But I hadn’t attempted the ritual. I’d refused time and again because I was a coward, afraid of what I’d face in there. It had been easier to return to the void inside me that didn’t feel this pain. To bury myself there.

As that person swam to the surface, and the second blow tore through flesh with a familiar sting, I kept my stare locked on Mila.

All I could picture was them doing this to her instead. Had that been one of her punishments? She’d never mentioned. The scars I’d seen weren’t consistent with it but?—

A third lash landed, nearly making me scream.

I buried that pain deep, deep down. Curling forward, the skin of my back stretched, the wounds burning.

Mila shouted again, tears streaking down her beautiful face.

I couldn’t look at her anymore. Wrenched my stare away and counted the seconds before the next blow landed.

Three was a kind day, in the life I once endured.

I could survive three again.

Even five. It was when it got toward ten that I would start to feel dizzy.

Perhaps I’d pass out around then. I used to force myself to stay conscious through it all, but maybe I could allow myself that reprieve now. Trust that I was absolving the pain from my friends and they would get us out of here. Hopefully Vale, too, if there was a way.

I’d take however many lashes Titus demanded if it meant they were safe.

In the guard’s shadow, I watched his arm rise again. I clenched my teeth and searched Titus’s beady stare—a stare heavy with greed and torment. I opened my mouth to spew hatred at him, to lessen the sting searing through my flesh, but?—

Over his shoulder, Celissia was crouched beside Vale. She touched the Starsearcher’s shoulder, listened to her breathing.

Vale’s head snapped up. And her expression was not the dazed, searching gaze of a reading.

It was a brutal, vengeful glare aimed at her captor’s back.

No one but Celissia and me saw her. One hand was clenched around something small, shining with a glittering blue.

But with the other, she unbuttoned a panel in the waist of her dress and removed a delicate triple-bladed dagger.

And with the guards’ eyes all on me, with everyone’s attention trained on my blood seeping across the floor and their cries masking her movements, Vale sprang to her feet.

And she didn’t hesitate as she sank that dagger into Titus’s neck.