Chapter 32: 32

"Your first mistake, Orenthal, was believing that you could escape us."

Warrick's words were hoarse to my ears as I clung to Inala with my every breath.

She was my lifeline, and I wasn't letting go until she did.

"I wasn't trying to."

The rest of the Sirens and soldiers in the boat seemed to stop breathing with Oren's words.

The crew of the ship had abandoned hope of saving it but apparently my rescuers had gotten to work putting out the fires my power had unleashed upon it.

The sky above, blue in intensity and brilliance, was suddenly blocked out by new planks having been thrown over top of the hole my fire had burned through and water splashed down from the gaps the fire had created.

Drip drip drip, just like the blood of Briggs' blood from his nose, mouth, and eyes.

Just like the gush of my own from the stab in my chest that had miraculously healed over.

Someone draped a silk robe over my naked body while I tried not to glance in the direction of the god, the god that was taking up so much space it was almost comical that he could fit down there, the god dressed in an a shadowy black tunic that gaped open wide at the chest exposing a pale expanse of unmarred skin and striking muscles, though where they'd found pants long enough for his lofty height to match the tunic I'd had no idea.

No, I did not want to look at him, even as his gaze burned hotter than the flames of my power that had destroyed most of the ship we were all currently taking up space in, even as his power and unearthly presence dared me to peek even more than I already had.

But I didn't want to look at the man that had betrayed me, either, so my options were limited.

I stared at Briggs, then, the man who'd whipped me until the well of tears inside of me had dried up and my body began to shake from the ceaseless pain in my chest where he'd chosen to mark me.

Marks that hadn't healed like the stab in my chest, like his whip had been imbued with magical properties to keep me from doing so, as if in order to wring out as much torture as possible.

Marks that had cut open not just the center of my chest, but my breasts as well, leaving whelps and slices along my most sensitive of places—places that stood for my femininity, now suddenly depraved and grotesque and not mine anymore at all.

I pulled the robe around my body tighter as Inala stood and placed a hand out to me as if to help me stand.

All eyes were on me.

Erinna was in the back corner, pretending to keep it together though I could tell she was struggling as she wrung her hands in anxiety watching her lover subdue Oren.

Warrick still had a knee to Oren's back even as the collar he'd used on me was placed around his neck, and the irony of it was almost so potent that I could feel myself choking on it.

The three Elders were nowhere to be found, but I could sense their presence like a heavy coating of the winterbane on my tongue.

Soraya and Yuni stood stoically beside Erinna, though their part in my rescue was to be determined, though it seemed as if Yuni had been one of the archers who'd shot arrows at Amell if the bow on his back was anything to go on.

"You found our trail, right?  I was the reason you could.  I was the one leading you right to her."

I reached up to take Inala's hand while Warrick and Oren conversed, but I couldn't think of a world in which Oren, my betrayer, had turned his back on those he'd been loyal to and helped me instead.

Even if it led to me being killed.

Or...not, seeing as though I was still alive, though I wasn't quite sure how that was possible.

"You're the reason she was taken to begin with."

Warrick's voice held a venom I wasn't accustomed to.

Just as Inala's hand closed around my own, a shockwave of fatigue rippled through me and the boat lurched on choppy waters, sending me sprawling across the planks below me once more.

I looked up expecting to find Inala's face above me, but instead I locked eyes with a god.

Nicos, with his bright moonlight hair and eyes so blue it reminded me of the ice coating over the river waters in Laria.

Nicos, with an aura of pure power and towering presence of dominance, the lord of north wind and ice kneeled before me as if he had the capacity to move at such a high speed to be at my side only an instant after having been stood at my back.

His eyes caressed each and every part of my body, as if checking me over for injury, and each place his eyes traveled chills were left in their wake.

His attention was attraction and addiction; something that I could find myself not being able to have enough of.

His pull was magnetic and charged with the powers of lightning ricocheting off clouds and stars in the night sky.

He was a storm destined to make landfall upon me, and I wanted to open my arms to welcome the deluge.

But those were his eyes on the place where the robe fell down to expose a piece of my chest.

And then I was reminded of where I was.

Reminded of the dead man beside me.

Of the traitor in front of me.

Of my sister's dead body in the other room.

Of my uncle, who'd escaped.

Of the fact that I had cheated death, and had sprayed fire from my eyes.

Of the fact that my newborn nephew was out there somewhere in the world, cold and alone and in the arms of a monster who could never love him.

"It's alright little Siren.  I'm here now."

My frantic and panicked eyes lifted up from where they'd been flitting around the room and met with his once more, just as an inky shadow flared behind his eyes and a pulse began to beat at my brow.

His voice was so familiar.  Bottomless and lulling, a haunting melody to the deepest warring desires flaring to life inside of me.

"It's you."

The words slipped out of me, foreboding and unbidden as the slyest of smiles pulled his lips apart and bright white teeth greeted me upon the opening of his mouth.

Sharp milky white fangs glimmered in the sun's glow in the open shafts of wood from the planks in the boat.

Stunned into immobility, my body was shock still as everyone below deck watched the scene unfurling in slow increments, time passing slower and slower as his finger reached out to move the robe aside, but what would happen if he touched my skin, if he saw the rest of the marks—

"What are you doing?  Do not touch her—"

"Inala!  You do not tell a god what to do!"

Velda's sharp words must've shocked the god into moving, because one moment he was on the ground kneeling before me with his hand just a hairs breadth away from my skin, and the next he was standing tall—taller than it seemed possible in this cramped space, and was flashing Oren's body a glare so deadly I was surprised it hadn't incinerated him on the spot.

"I'd like to take the traitor and question him myself, Elder."

Velda took in the scene with keen eyes, her expression only dimming as she raked a glance over me.

"Of course, my lord.  I only ask that we take Josepine away from here as quickly as possible.  I can only assume she'd want to be free of the horrors that happened here."

Nicos' eyes flitted my way and darkened as he looked upon me.

I didn't like the pity swimming in his gaze.

I did not want him—or anyone else—to pity me.

"I need to search for my uncle to kill him and find my nephew."

Somehow, in my weakened state and bloodless body, my feet were suddenly under me and I was standing tall, even without the help of Inala at my side.

Velda cut her sharp eyes to my form, perusing it as that same pity that had flashed in her features, but that didn't stop her next remark from slicing into me like my uncles bronze dagger.

"What are you talking about?  We took out your uncle's men.  There was no one with a baby with them."

"Did you find my uncle, then?"

Inala turned to look at Warrick, who shook his head in response, even as he was tying up Oren's hands.

"We must return to Hefeta.  We've been left vulnerable."

No.  Velda might've wanted to return home, but I wasn't quite ready yet.  There was rage and revenge battling for dominance in my throat, and I was ready to open it and unleash the song inside of me to get it.

For once in my life, I wasn't scared to use my gifts, but anticipating it.

"Left vulnerable whom?  We've just won the upper hand against Amell. He's the vulnerable one now."

Velda seemed shocked that I would question her, but she turned her nose up and answered haughtily, like any previous pity she might've felt for me was long gone.

"To the King of Valencia.  He was the one who sent Amell in the first place.  We need to be ready for his next attack."

"You did not defeat Amell, only the soldiers he enlisted.  He stole my blood; he will have bought more men soon enough.  Your best chance is to go after him now, while he's vulnerable and on the run.  The king might not even hear of his defeat for days now.  You will have time to take out my uncle and retrieve my nephew before he can assign someone else to attack, and by then you'll be back in Hefeta and ready for them."

"I'm sorry for what you've endured Josephine, but you don't understand how this works.  You are one of us, but while you might be the Heir, you do not make the decisions.  I do, and so do Olesia and Treasa, who are back home and staving off any more attempts on our people.  Your motivations for going after your uncle are selfish; you're wanting to save the life of one baby in the stead of the lives of your people."

"Elder, maybe Josephine has a point—"

"I won't hear anymore of this, especially not from you Erinna."

"Fine," I began, surprised by Erinna's support of me but grateful for it nonetheless. "Then return to Hefeta.  I will be back as soon as I kill my uncle and find my nephew myself."

Velda's black hair was untouched, her clothing unruffled.

The slice across her inner forearms in order to summon Nicos had healed.

She had not been tortured for hours on end.

She had not been forced to witness the brutality, to live through the news that her sister had died in childbirth.  She had not been front row to the destruction of her hope and sanity.

If this revenge was the only thing keeping me standing, the only thing keeping the blood in my veins and the fire in my spirit then I would gladly allow it to take hold of me, because the alternative...the alternative would be for me to finally face the fight within me and lose.

And I refused to take Inala and my nephew down with me.

A loud thumping alerted us to Oren's body kicking and flailing around on the ground like a fish out of water.

Everyone's heads turned to Oren's body.

"Take the collar off him, it's not like his voice will do us any harm."

Warrick listened to me before Velda could say otherwise.

"I know.  Where Amell's going.  I know where he's taking your nephew, and your sister."

"Of course.  And how do we know that isn't a trap?"

Inala spoke before I could process what Oren had just said.

"What did you just say?"

"Your sister, she's alive.  She did not die in childbirth like he claimed."

"We still don't know if he's telling the truth or not," Inala pushed, but I moved forward on shaking legs as the others listened on intently.

"Maybe not.  But in the end, when he was ordered to collar me...he cut my binds.  He set me free."

"But he was still the one who kidnapped you to begin with!  Are you seriously going to listen to him?"

I turned to Inala, but it was clear she'd made up her mind.

"Where is Amell taking my sister and my nephew?"

My mind was racing, my heart a flighty bird singing a desperate song in my ribcage at the idea.

Could Marlisa still be alive?

"He's going to his stronghold, in Valencia.  To Farriah."

"That's a signed death warrant for any of us, especially you, Josephine."

"Maybe not, Inala.  I can...do things.  I don't know how, but if I can just—"

"You just got yourself kidnapped and almost killed.  How you survived is a mystery to me, but if one of them gets ahold of you and traps you, you could end up just like me.  Stolen away for years and years in a cave with no food and nothing else besides your slow descent into insanity."

"I won't be captured.  If I am, I'll simply roast them alive with this fire that seems to live inside of me."

"What?  You were the one who set the ship on fire?"

"She was.  She's more than just Siren, and you all knew it before, just like you know it now.  The bronze dagger with the blood of her kill through her heart didn't kill her.  She survived it."

"So that was what I was feeling through our bond—it was your death."

Inala turned away from me to stalk to Oren.

"You betrayed her, kidnapped her, had her tortured, and only freed her just so he could try to finish her off instead?"

"Inala, I—"

Her foot slammed into Oren's nose.

Something manic inside of me was glad to see blood drip down his face.

She brought up a booted foot once more before Soraya stood behind her and wrapped her arms around her, and even despite not being able to see, she was in the perfect place to catch her before she fell.

"Get off of me."

Inala threw Soraya off of her, but Soraya did not budge, and tugged her into her chest to whisper something the rest of us couldn't hear.

"—not worth it."

"I'd say he's definitely worth a broken toe or two to mess up that pretty face.  What, did Adira not want it to come true, then?  She make a deal with you to break your curse?  Is that why you were so protective of Josephine this whole time?  You didn't trust the god we summoned to break your curse, so you chose your mother instead?"

"She promised to break it if I delivered her to Amell to keep it from coming true, yes."

Snippets of conversations between Oren and Amell came flashing to life.

"To keep what from coming true?"

Inala's face flashed to me, something similar to regret flaring to life on her features, and then she was determined.  Determined to tell the truth, or to lie?  I couldn't be sure, but Erinna began speaking before Inala could.

"Legends were all our people had to go on for centuries, Josephine.  The gods and goddesses came down and influenced all kinds of things, but one thing they couldn't disrupt were the visions.  The Sirens had them constantly, and they were the only thing we could count on that would tell us the truth of our futures to come.  After Hefeta was brutalized by the attacks of the gods and had a child by one of them, she was comforted.  By the god Nicos."

My head turned to the god in question who hadn't moved a single muscle since our conversation began, his entire being wholly focused on Oren as he laid on the ground.

"She was so grateful for him, and everything he'd done for her, that she promised him something.  Something so valuable and precious to her that she couldn't have imagined giving to anyone else.  The hand of her child, or her child's child, or so on and so forth, until Nicos was ready to take a consort or wife."

One of Hefeta's grandchildren was promised to be married to Nicos, the god of north wind and ice.

And I was one of her grandchildren.

"So...Amell didn't want Nicos to marry one of Hefeta's grandchildren, so he kidnapped me and tried to kill me?"

"Exactly."

"Why?"

I turned to the god in question, who still hadn't moved.

The god who'd invaded my dreams and somehow posed as someone else.

Who somehow had shadowy powers, who looked nothing at all like the man before me, except...

His voice was the same.

His temperament, his body...

"And what about Kyan?  The God of shadow and death?"

The god turned his head to look at me.  So slowly, so calmly, it was almost like he was already planning my demise in his head, only when he glanced at my face, his features weren't full of rage and hatred, but of something I'd only glimpsed once on Peter's face.

Something so similar to adoration it made my heart ache worse than when a dagger had been plunged into it.

"What of him, Josephine?"

Oren's question was guarded and suspicious, like he was worried I'd overheard the conversation between my uncle and him. I had, but I wasn't sure what it meant.

"Oren and Amell were talking about him right before you all arrived.  I don't remember everything, but—me.  They said something about him wanting me."

There was a rush of cool air against my cheeks before a voice startled me in the quiet of the suddenly still early morning.

Though there were no shadows left inside of me, some interconnected piece of me knew that his power had been used. The shadow man's—although I knew his real name.

If I wasn't too scared to admit it to myself, I'd have called him by his name then and there.

"Oh Josephine, love.  I really wish you hadn't said that."

Inala was turned toward him, but was frozen on the spot.

Warrick did not move, and Oren was frozen as well, with his head half turned toward us while the rest of him was forced down to the ground still with Warrick towering over his body.

I glanced around in question at everyone—Erinna, who hadn't spoken up since showing her support of me, Velda, with her eyebrows raised in silent judgement, Soraya who was still at Inala's side unmoving, Yuni who had been leaning over to another guard to most likely whisper something inappropriate in his ear—frozen.

Each and every single one of them.

Even a stray drop of water trying to wedge itself through the cracks of the planks above our heads had stopped in its tracks completely.

"What's going on?  What just happened?"

But Nicos was not in the spot where he had once stood.

No, instead, he was right behind me, his breath on my ear.

That kiss of death on my forehead pounded so powerfully it almost hurt, the glow burning my skin where it came to live beneath it.

Shadows burst forth from behind me and slithered along my skin, not burning, not killing, simply...touching.  Feeling.

Around my legs and in my hair like soft, cold fingers.  The sensitive flesh of my throat.  The fabric covered swell of my chest—

"Stop it."

All at once the shadows dropped, though one stayed wrapped around my palm, like it wanted to hold my hand and was hesitant to let go, but soon enough that was yanked away as well.

"Come with me, Josephine.  I'll take you to kill your uncle, and save your sister and her child.  Even her husband.  All you have to do is ask."

His voice was pure sin stretching across my taut being, everything inside my head screaming that this was so wrong, but my heart was screaming louder, screeching at me to push back against him, to let his shadows wrap around me and caress me until nothing hurt anymore, until he could find my family and deliver them back to me.

But...

"You're not Nicos, are you?"

I knew the answer, but I couldn't help but ask regardless. I had to.

"No, love.  I'm something much, much worse."

***

Author's Note:

What did you think of this chapter?

Any ideas for the final chapter before the epilogue?

Thoughts on where the story is headed?

What do you want to see happen next?

Until next time my lovely readers,

Kristen :)

***

The World of Irena: