Chapter Eighteen

L iana refused to open her eyes. Refused to rise into the waking world where she would have to face the grief and shame of everything that happened. Grace and the others were dead. Innocents murdered because she didn't fall into the trap the rebels set. Dead because of whatever curse the Goddess placed upon her. Flashes of the battle greeted her after a void of nothingness. The dart from her neck that miraculously got through her shield. The dagger that pierced through her protection charm and into Damien's back.

She flinched, rolling onto her side as she watched that same dagger plunge toward his chest. It couldn't be real. Damien couldn't be dead. There was that gold flash. She must have saved him somehow. But her magic had been cut off, there was nothing she could have done.

Prayers to the gods and goddesses left her lips to ensure Damien's safety. She paid no regard to the hard, cold ground she lay upon now. Nor did she focus on her lack of power or the shackles around her wrists.

Someone gripped her face roughly, her eyes springing open as the last of her prayers died upon her lips.

"Oi, don't waste your breath on prayers, mage." Putrid breath assaulted her nose as he bent closer, the dirt and grime covering his face making it near impossible to make out any features. "No one can help you now. Not even the gods," he said with a laugh.

Shoving her face into the ground, he walked away, leaving her alone once again.

Liana took a moment to survey her situation. She was indeed shackled and without power. That deep well inside of her was there but unreachable, likely because of a magic blocking spell on the cuffs. The bond that linked her to Damien lay undetectable as well. She told herself this was due to the cuffs. He was alive and well. She had to believe that.

The forest around her was already changing in response to the coming fall. The leaves were starting to change, a mix of wilting green with vibrant reds, yellow and oranges while the air held far more of a chill than in Sancta Valles. Liana loved fall. Loved the cooler temperatures and vibrant colors before winter arrived. In this situation now though, she couldn't appreciate the season.

They were likely heading north and had traveled far in the time she'd been out. The sun hadn't yet reached its peak in the sky, and she hoped she'd only been out for the morning.

Sitting up, she found a small camp of males, mostly vampires and two mage sitting around a fire. They ate and drank, none of them sparing her a look or something to eat. She'd attempt to run if it weren't for the shackles and the vampires. She wouldn't make it more than two steps before they brought her back.

The clatter of multiple carriages in the distance drew her attention away from her captors. When they came into view, three carriages pulled by two horses each arrived. No insignia or house crests marked them, the wood bare and not likely her rescuers.

Only one person exited the carriages, and they walked straight to Liana. Her jaw ground together, betrayal hitting her deep, but not entirely a surprise either. Standing above her was a face she never expected to see outside the court. Lord Bastian Kent, one of two mage councilmen on the King's Council.

"Traitor!" she spat before he could say anything. His wife had been an annoying, gossipmonger, and while Lord Kent was a bit pompous, he had never truly earned her ire. That all changed now. The traitor would pay for this.

Frowning, he kneeled in front of her. "It is you that is the traitor, Savior. Your power was meant to free the mage. It was meant to free us all from vampire rule."

Liana wished that damn prophecy had never been made. Wished that people hadn't twisted it for their own gain. All they knew of the prophecy is that she was meant to save Triaedian. There was nothing specific and certainly nothing telling her that she was meant to free mage from vampire rule.

The vampires had been fair rulers since the inception of their kingdom. Vampires didn't dominate over the other breeds. They didn't hold themselves in higher regard. Aside from being somewhat separated, all breeds were equal. Perhaps not in the minds of some, but to the majority, they were equal. Different but powerful in their own right. It is only the spark of the rebels that have started the fear and mistrust of each other.

It was all thanks to the vampire royal line, the Ashwood royal line, that Triaedian was such a peaceful kingdom up to this point. Why the mage were so set on being freed from a tyrant that didn't exist, she had no clue.

"Why would you do this? How could you betray Damien like this? He is a great king. Triaedian has thrived under the Ashwood name for a thousand years," she implored.

He ignored her, directing his attention to the vampires. "Get her locked up in the cage. We need to move."

The camp dismantled quickly, and two vampires hauled her to the first carriage which held a small, iron-barred cage in the back and a single bench near the front. Thrown into the cage, Liana slammed her eyes shut and forced herself to breathe deeply as memories of a similar situation tried to overwhelm her mind. She wouldn't let memories of the past take over. She'd been locked up like this once before. That was in the past though. She was stronger now and far older. She could deal with this without losing her mind.

With just enough room to sit up, Liana leaned back against the iron bars taking slow, deep breaths to calm her racing heart. An empty pit opened in her chest where her magic usually welled within her, where it would be writhing in anger and ready to come to her aid. Nothing came to her now. Not even a flicker. The worst of it was the hollow ache that rested in her chest instead of the bond to Damien. There was nothing to reach out to. Nothing she could grab to send a message through. All of her magic remained blocked and with it, her ability to sense Damien. To sense if he still lived or not.

That dagger had been so close to his heart that first time. It wouldn't have killed him if he was healed quickly, but that rebel went back for seconds. She wracked her brain, trying to force herself to remember the scene, analyzing to see if perhaps he escaped. But there was nothing. She'd blacked out before seeing anything else after that gold flash.

The carriage lurched forward, her thoughts still trailing after Damien. She prayed a thousand times over that he was safe, that he was alive.

They rode through into the late evening with only one break for the horses before stopping at a small village. Someone let her out of the cage to finally relieve herself behind the stables. She hadn't been given any water or food either, leaving her body weak from hunger and thirst.

Unfortunately, she was thrown back into the cage while Lord Kent entered a small inn after ordering the rest of the crew to find places to sleep inside the stables. Liana curled into herself trying her best to get comfortable and get some sleep. Maybe she could sleep away this nightmare. Or at least the hunger.

Neither goal was achieved though, her sleep plagued by nightmares and her stomach begged for food. When she woke from terrors, she also woke to her entire body shivering. Fall had certainly reached the north.

A small morsel of bread and meat with a cup of water was pushed through the bars early in the morning before they set on the road for another long day of travel. It went on like this for five more days.

On the afternoon of the fifth day the carriages pulled to a stop on the outskirts of a town. They'd turned down a private road to a manor home that had seen better days. The style was outdated, the shutters hung haphazardly, and vines grew freely over what would have been a beautiful brick design. She could imagine how magnificent the manor had been in its prime. Now, it needed a thorough cleaning and many repairs.

Yanked out of the cage yet again, Liana was dragged toward the entrance. The pristine and ornate wooden door stood out among the abandoned home but what truly took her by surprise was who opened it.

Liana gasped, her entire body frozen in place. Her mind couldn't make sense of what she saw. Couldn't make sense of who stood there.

"Charlotte?"

Vampires tugged Liana to get her moving again.

"Charlotte?" Liana asked again as she stumbled up the front stairs.

A vacant smile filled her sister's gaunt face. "Welcome, Liana. We've been expecting you." A shell of her once bright and cunning sister stood before her now.

"Charlotte, what is going on?" Liana tripped over the doorway. The vampires picked her up, not appreciating the delay. Liana lost sight of her sister as she was carried into a sitting room off to the right. Standing in front of the roaring brick-red fireplace with a glass in one hand and the other supporting him on the mantle, the picture of pure male righteousness, was Ranville.

He didn't look at her when they entered. Not even when they shoved her onto the sofa. He finished his glass then set it upon the dark wooden mantle. Dressed in his formal Council attire, the mage moved calmly and unhurried as if civil war had not just broken out among their kingdom.

"What is going on, Ranville?" she demanded through gritted teeth. Liana had a pretty good idea of the state of things, but she'd been wrong in the past. She'd hate to accuse someone of treason, especially her sister's husband, because not only would Damien kill first and ask questions later, but Liana considered the very same thing now that he'd dragged her sister into this.

"Master Ranville, I will leave you with the prisoner. I must get back before my absence is noted. It was chaos when I left, as I'm sure it still is with the destruction caused. Still, it would be best if I returned quickly," Lord Kent stated, then nodded an informal bow to the man.

Ranville waved him on, not bothering to see him out.

Liana watched him go, almost begging for any information on Damien. She couldn't trust any of these people though and couldn't trust any answer he'd give. So, she watched the traitor scurry away.

Ranville cleared his throat then moved to sit in the chair opposite her. Charlotte stood over his right shoulder, the silent and dutiful wife. Liana tried to catch her eye, to mouth the question if she was alright, and although Charlotte gazed blankly at Liana, there was no response from her sister.

Finally, Ranville looked at her, his previous mask of indifference gone. Now she could see the hatred in his eyes so clearly. The same hatred she once saw in his father's eyes. She glared back at him, anger simmering beneath the surface for whatever he'd done to Charlotte. Anger at the loss of her magic which should have been roiling in her veins.

"You've been gifted a great power, Liana," he began, his voice steady despite the ire flaming from his eyes.

"That's Queen Liana to you," she spat, not that she cared much for titles. In this moment, titles didn't hold as much power as they did when she wasn't shackled.

He scoffed. "Queen Liana Ashwood." The name sounded bitter on his tongue, nothing like the sweet caress when Damien said it. "You should have been King of the mage. King of a new world we created upon the ashes of Triaedian." He sat back as if they were old friends catching up. "Unfortunately for the mage, our savior was born female. Furthermore, that female was you; a defiant, uncouth, rebel whore that fell in love with a vampire."

She clenched her jaw to keep it from hanging open. Never before had she been so thoroughly insulted to her face. Nor had it been so far from the truth in her own opinion. Usually, the gossip surrounding her was at least somewhat true. Liana disagreed with his evaluation aside from the defiant part.

"I am not your savior," she corrected, choosing to ignore the rest of his insults. She had to keep her head in this situation. Giving into anger would give him exactly what he wanted.

"Not yet, but in time, you will fulfill the destiny you were born into." He waved at Charlotte who instantly moved to retrieve him a pipe.

She gave a rough shake of her head. Perhaps she could play the ignorance game to see what happened. She needed to know more. Needed to know what Ranville's plans were. "No. I was born a mage like everyone else. I am not your savior."

A cruel smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. "Don't play the fool, Liana. We both know you are the Savior from the prophecy. I have felt your power first-hand many times. You are more powerful than any alive in the history of Triaedian and you will become what we need you to."

She tugged at the cuffs again, already knowing it would do no good. Her goddess-blessed power must not have been as powerful as she thought if these cuffs were enough to trap her.

"And what is it that you need me to become?" she snarled.

His smirk turned cruel. "A weapon. A weapon for us to wield in order to finally take out the Ashwood line and divide Triaedian amongst the breeds, as it should have always been."

Her heart stuttered in her chest. "I will never help you. I will not harm any of the Ashwoods." Especially her husband. She couldn't even fathom it. A life without Damien was too much to bear, let alone being the one to kill him herself. No, she would never. No matter what Ranville planned.

"You will. Whether you want to or not. I'll make sure of it." Charlotte returned with the smoking pipe, the scent of spiced tobacco filling the room. Ranville puffed on it a few times, taking his time as he savored the drags. "There are certainly obstacles to your cooperation. It would have been much simpler if you were born male. We would have found you eventually when you tried to become a Master. The Brotherhood would have found you and trained you to become the Savior."

"Is that what you call the rebellion? The Brotherhood?" she spat, interrupting his monologue.

"The Brotherhood of the Savior is comprised of the mage that believe in the prophecy and will fight to protect that future."

Now it was her turn to scoff. "So, the treasonous male mage in Triaedian. What of the shifters and vampires? What do they call themselves?"

He shrugged. "As far as I am aware, they do not have titles. Rebels or separatists work just fine for them." He took another drag, the smoke creating a haze in the room. "As I was saying, it would have been easy if you were a male. We could have dealt with a female though too. She'd be pliant, meek. Easy to control. But that is not what happened."

He snapped his fingers and Charlotte brought him another glass of amber liquid. Liana's eyes narrowed on her sister, now personal servant to her wretched husband. "When my father first discovered you at such a young age, we thought for sure we'd be able to mold you into the weapon destiny intended, but then you killed him and escaped."

Liana's hands fisted at the mention of her kidnapping. So, Ranville did know who she was all along. He knew who she was and that she'd killed his father. She'd been so naive in thinking that the young Ranville didn't know about her. He would have been plenty old enough for his father to start confiding in him, teaching him the separatist ways.

"If you knew who I was all along, why did you not try to court me instead of Charlotte?"

"I considered it at first." He took another puff, as calm and relaxed as ever. "After you killed my father and escaped, I kept an eye on you. It wasn't hard to do considering the entire city watched you as well. Your stupid father was always so proud to boast about you as well. Such a smart and talented daughter he had. The fool would never shut his mouth much to your demise. Although he was irritating, I figured you hadn't told anyone what happened, and the Brotherhood was safe for the moment. Over the years, the more we interacted, it was clear you didn't recall the events either or you assumed I didn't know. Either way, it worked in my favor. But your personality left much to be desired. I knew you'd be difficult to control with that magic as well so instead of courting you, I went for your sister. As soon as she was under my control, you would follow."

Blood drained from her face. Tears gathered in her eyes when she glanced at the immobile Charlotte. "You've got her under your control," Liana breathed out in shock. Such magic was forbidden. The most unlawful of magic and punishable by death to whoever wielded it.

"Yes. And by proxy, you as well." He jumped to his feet, a spring in his step like she'd never seen from him before, the usually reserved Councilman. Passing off his pipe and drink to Charlotte, she accepted them with a demure smile before disappearing. He opened the door and gestured in her guards once more. "For now, rest and recover from your journey. Tomorrow our plans continue."

He was gone before she could say or ask anything more.

The guards dragged her once more through the manor to the kitchens where they descended a narrow spiral staircase. With a sinking gut, Liana did not look forward to what her accommodations would be. All she could hope for was that it wasn't too small of a cell.