4. ~Saryan Hart~

4

~Saryan Hart~

The agony had ceased.

They’d flushed the poison out of my system again.

Unfortunately, the lingering effects were utter physical weakness and immense thirst.

It was his way of taunting me, ensuring I was unable to break the Dark Fae metal he’d had his acolytes bind me with. Duariam, a metal from my own kingdom, a place in which I was a god among lesser men, wherein nothing was beyond my strength and power.

It had been deathly quiet and uneventful here for the last few hours, aside from the four acolytes stationed around the room watching me. I’d managed to discern that Constantine and his fools had returned from their assault as failures, Constantine even unconscious and injured, and the rest of his army having suffered the same fate too.

Aside from one being.

The one I was terming Faceless in my mind.

They had on a loose-fitting hooded black robe and their voice was distorted by magic and thereby not discernible, and their face was also blurred by magic.

Doing that made it clear to me that the individual was familiar, that I knew them, or knew of them at the very least. Why go to so much trouble otherwise? The acolytes didn’t hide their faces. They did wear crimson robes, but they weren’t hooded and they didn’t conceal their identities in any way. On the contrary, they were proud to be known as that maniacal psychopath’s accomplices. They believed they were catering to a god.

A god without a throne.

Impossible.

He was no god, just another egomaniacal fool driven mad by the pursuit of what could never be achieved—absolute, unchallenged power.

No power was truly absolute.

Not even mine.

There were always caveats.

It could always be taken.

It certainly wasn’t a given and it never would be.

You had to be willing to fight and put in the work to obtain it and to keep it.

I knew that better than most, having ruled the Dark Fae Realm as their King for centuries on end.

I always had enemies.

I always had detractors.

Because, the inescapable truth was, there was always a price to great power.

As for Faceless, keeping their identity hidden suggested they intended to keep me alive and release me from this place, or it wouldn’t matter whether I knew or not. Or did it suggest that if I knew their identity I would be able to sway their conviction and commitment to this worthless cause? Perhaps it was somebody I had power over?

Well, that didn’t exactly narrow it down.

Neither did it being somebody who’d defected from Exemplar’s Law.

They were numerous and they were growing ever larger as time went on.

Constantine had certainly gotten that aspect of his campaign right, because the Cataclysm had caused a decrease in faith among supernatural beings in Exemplar. He’d definitely succeeded there.

The rest of his campaign, though, this cause of his was several levels beyond foolish.

And he possessed a far too idealistic notion of what it would mean to rule the supernatural world.

I busied myself taking in the space again now that I was once again lucid enough to do so.

I had to keep my mind busy so as to remain alert for whatever was thrown my way next.

So far, they’d spent a great deal of time weakening me and demonstrating the agony that would continue to befall me if I didn’t cooperate when the time came.

I hadn’t been informed what that cooperation would entail yet.

They were biding their time, leaving me in the quiet and the dark, without any stimulation, likely an attempt to break me down.

I smiled inwardly. More foolishness.

I was bound to a large wooden chair made of oak, my wrists and ankles strapped to it with Duariam metal cuffs. They’d even bound around my back and torso to keep my wings from being unfurled. The only thing I could move was my head.

The room was five hundred square feet, an empty space with dark hardwood floors and unpainted walls, a new space in a brand-new mansion from what I’d been able to observe when they’d dragged me through the place upon arrival. Unfortunately, I’d been unconscious on the way here so I hadn’t been able to determine where the house was. The windows were covered with heavy blackout curtains too.

Commotion outside drew my attention and had the four guards stationed around the space unmoving in the dark pushing from their positions and walking out.

A moment later, Constantine strolled on in, a large glass of water in hand, appearing like he hadn’t a care in the world.

Actually, as he drew closer, it became apparent that he was overjoyed about something.

It wasn’t managing to capture the Dark Fae King. He’d already rubbed that in my face.

Using a Hellborn hadn’t been playing fair anyway. There was no winning for him in that scenario. He was kidding himself.

There would be punishment, though.

A great deal.

He’d killed my men.

He’d had the gall to take me hostage.

And, worse than all of that combined, he’d gone after my son.

He would never survive that.

I managed to swallow down the worry rolling through me that his good mood might mean he’d succeeded in harming Orpheus, or even taking him captive too.

“Saryan, I trust you’ve remained in good spirits while I was gone?”

“Very much so,” I responded evenly.

He grinned. “Good. My apologies for the delay, I was unconscious for a couple of hours thanks to my darling princess.”

This was the first time he was referring to a darling princess.

But given where he’d been and factoring in who had the ability to do him that much harm, only one person came to mind. “Alena Rose?”

“Excellent, despite the solution I had my people give you, you’re still on the ball. The extra ingredient I added worked then. You know, usually subjects will be drooling afterward and barely cognizant. You’re lucky you got this special batch.”

“Yes, I feel incredibly lucky,” I drawled.

“Luckier than you realize actually. Your son came at me.”

I tensed in spite of myself.

“He still lives and without any permanent damage too.” He came closer and cocked his head to the side, then drank the full glass of water in his hands right in front of me, taunting me, clearly aware of my thirst. He smirked, then banished the empty glass with a flick of his magic. “Look at you thinking I would’ve actually done him serious harm. Of course not. He’s important to me.”

“To what end?”

Instead of answering, he told me, “Just gave him a nasty taste of black magic. He’ll live and recover soon enough.”

He’d done what?

“You used black magic on my son?” I seethed, unable to keep it together with Orpheus in question. My boy, my heir, the only being on earth whom I actually cared for.

“Sure did. You think he’ll develop a taste for it now?”

“No.”

“Really? He was certainly exhibiting the signs when he came at me. Such hubris. On a power trip. Wanting to beat me for his own ego as much as anything else.”

“That’s merely him performing for an enemy.”

“Hmm, I think you’re lying.” He moved away, then went on conversationally, “Did you know he’s triple-teaming my princess with the phoenix and my hybrid?”

“I’m aware.”

“And how will that work when he takes the throne? His wife must be Dark Fae and he must produce a pure Dark Fae heir.”

“That’s not your concern.”

“I see, you’re actually going to alter centuries of tradition for him?”

Yes, I was.

Of course, I was.

My son’s happiness was paramount.

Years ago, I would have held tighter to tradition and insisted.

But since losing so much during the Cataclysm , things had changed. My outlook on things had changed.

“How I run my Kingdom is not your concern.”

“But your son is.”

“Again, I ask, to what end?”

“I need Dark Fae royal blood.”

“Take mine.”

“As easy as that would be, it has to be someone straddling the line between light and dark.”

“Then use Lenora.”

He did a double take. “You’d offer up your own wife as a sacrifice?”

“For my son, yes.”

“Just like that?”

“She’s no longer my wife. The bond has been severed.”

“Still, that’s cold.”

“Did you expect anything less from a being like me?”

“I guess your love for you son had me believing there was more there than just darkness. Clearly not.”

“You won’t harm Orpheus.”

“I will need to harm him for what I have planned, but I don’t need to kill him. Of course, I do enjoy it immensely, though. For me to forgo something so pleasurable, I’ll need a very good reason.”

“So the torture failed you.”

“Yes. I’ve been testing your mind while you’ve been under and it can’t be penetrated even through the agony and weakening the toxin has subjected you to.”

“Why not offer a deal in the first place when you know my son is my Achilles Heel?”

“Because I don’t want him dead. He’ll make a supreme commander in my coming army once I take Exemplar and the rest of the sycophants who follow them. But what I need from you transcends that, I’m afraid, and I will go that route if I don’t get what I desire.”

“Why do you need me to open my mind to you?”

“I need to know where you hid the Orb of Vorlav.”

I jolted. “No. Tell me that’s not your plan.”

He grinned from ear-to-ear. “Oh, it is, Your Majesty.” He crouched down in front of my chair. “And there are only two people who know where the Orb is located. You and Abigail. Both your minds are impossible to breach, but I have leverage over you. Unfortunately, I can’t do the same with her regarding Alena because that darling princess is set to become mine.”

“Why do you want her so intensely?”

“Celestial magic? Ever heard of it? She’s still moldable.”

“You seek to fashion yourself your own angel to do your bidding.”

He winked. “Well, to do a bit more than that. Abigail will hate that part and the satisfaction of knowing that is worth everything.”

Despicable.

“You’re too late. Alena is already attached deeply to my son and his cohorts.”

“A new bond is susceptible to severing. Especially among younglings such as they. Any manner of thing could get in the way and upset their closeness. Love can so easily turn to hate among the unlearned.”

Relief rolled through me.

He’d just made a mistake in a chief part of his strategy.

He’d underestimated them and their bond.

I knew my son.

He wouldn’t have even revealed his bond with Alena to me if it wasn’t already supremely serious, if she wasn’t already deep under his skin. It took a lot for him to get attached. Because with Orpheus, when he was passionate about something, he put his all into it, every little bit of himself.

And he didn’t let go.

“The only way I’ll reveal the location of the Orb is if we form a blood vow that you will not harm my son.”

“Beyond taking enough of his blood to fill it?”

I gritted my teeth. “Yes.”

“You have yourself a deal, Your Majesty.”

“You’ll need me to reveal the Orb. That can only be done by returning to the Dark Fae Realm.”

His lip curled up. “Is that so?”

“If you want the Orb, yes. It’s the only way.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do.”

I smiled inwardly.

He’d just signed his death sentence.