Max's hand tightened around hers. She was grateful for his reassuring presence, his solid strength and warmth as he led her hastily forward. William stopped suddenly, causing the woman to roughly bump into him. They stood silently, straining to hear anything within the dark, damp space. They were only a hundred feet from the end of the tunnel, only a hundred feet from freedom, or certain death.
"We're going to have to move fast. Stay low and head straight for the woods. If we get separated for some reason we'll meet up again at the south edge of the lake," William instructed. "If we can't get to the south edge of the lake, we'll meet at the banquet tree."
The banquet tree was something she and William had discovered when they were children. It was simply an extremely large apple tree, but it had seemed massive and fantastic to them as they spent hours climbing its immense limbs, and gorging themselves on the apples they picked from it. For a couple weeks every year they'd had an ample supply of fruit, and aching bellies but it had always been worth it.
They were also the only ones who knew where the tree was. They had brought the fruit back to the camps, willingly sharing it with everyone, but they had never revealed its location, and now that she thought about it, she didn't think anyone had ever asked. It was as if they had all understood that she and William required a place of their own, and allowed them to keep it.
Aria's hand tightened around Max's. She understood that William was mostly concerned with her safety, but she couldn't lose Max. He had risked his life for hers; he had sacrificed himself for her. She would not take the chance that they were separated now. She thought that she should feel more guilt about possibly losing the others but she didn't, not when it came to her brother and her friend. Their world was cruel, brutal, and for most people it was every man for themselves, except for the few people that ran in somewhat larger circles like she did.
It was nice to have friends, and family that she could rely on, that she could trust with her life. The downfall of it all was the grief that would come with the loss of any one of them. She had been lucky so far.
William rushed forward, leading the way as they raced through the dark, up the slope, toward the unknown.
They plunged into the night. Aria inhaled large, greedy gulps of the fresh air, relieved to be free of the confining space of the caves. They were almost a hundred feet from the cave exit when the screaming pierced through the rapid beat of her heart in her ears. She froze, sadness coiling through her as she turned back around. They were higher up on the mountainside, staring down across the way. The lake was beneath them, gleaming in the moonlight that reflected off of it. Across the lake was the exit from the escape tunnel, hidden within a copse of trees.
The exit had been selected because it was the farthest point from the main entrance, and well concealed. It was also where the screams were coming from. Aria's mouth went dry; she took a step forward as revulsion and dread coursed through her. Across the lake she could see people scattering in every direction, fleeing as they tried to escape the monsters pursuing them.
Aria couldn't fully comprehend the carnage before her. They had to do something. Now! She darted forward, determined to get down there and help those people. Max seized hold of her arm, pulling her back. She strained against him as he started to pull her toward the woods.
"We have to help!" she protested.
He grabbed hold of her other arm, holding her before him as he shook her slightly. "There is nothing we can do Aria, we have to go! We have to go now!"
She tried to fight him, but he kept his stern hold. "We can't just leave them!"
His eyes were dark, sad, broken in the moonlight. "It's too late for them." Her gaze turned back to the spectacle below her, she couldn't abandon them. "It's how we were captured before Aria; you cannot heedlessly run in again."
His words froze her, she couldn't move as her heart labored to pump blood through her suddenly frigid body. It was how they had been captured before, it had been her fault that they had been taken, and she couldn't allow that to happen again. Her gaze wandered hopelessly over to William. He stood at the edge of the forest, waiting impatiently for them. The others had already fled into the darkness. If she went down there again, if she tried to interfere again, they would follow her, and they would be caught.
There was nothing that any of them could do to help the people being hunted now. There was no way to stop the massacre raging below them, no way to silence the screams. There was no one to save them if they were captured again; no one would come to rescue them as Jack had blown his cover amongst his family. The royal family knew Jack was a traitor now, and wouldn't welcome him back unless it was to torture and destroy him. They might not even be captured this time; they could just be slaughtered outright.
Max gently pulled her back and away from the scene before them. "Hurry!" William urged.
"It will be ok, Aria. It will be ok." Max wrapped his hand around the back of her head, pulling her close for a brief moment before tugging her toward the woods. They plunged into the darkness, moving speedily through the dense forest. William led the way, taking a zigzagging route that wound rapidly toward the banquet tree.
Aria felt numb, hollow. The screams of the tortured followed her even after they were out of earshot. She fell against the large tree, clinging to one of its branches as she wheezed for air that she couldn't quite get. Her legs buckled, she fell to her knees before their childhood tree. So many dreams and plans and hopes had grown from this spot.
Those dreams were gone now and in their place were bleak hopelessness and the echoing screams of the innocent. What once was a place of safety and shelter was now tainted by loss and suffering. Yet, beneath all of that there was something else, something new rising up to course through her, a feeling she couldn't identify amidst all of the agony and confusion tearing her apart. For a moment, she didn't know what it was that was consuming her. And then, she did.
It was hatred.
It was pure and simple hate. She hated this world of cruelty, hated the monsters that had created it. She hated it with everything that she had and was. And she hated the monster that had done this to her, the creature that had stomped all over her heart, making her weaker, making her a broken shell of the person she had once been. And now, well now that shell was filling up again. That shell was infuriated and twisted and so hate filled that she could barely breathe through its fiery consumption.
The prince, she hated the prince, she realized.
There would be no more grieving for him, there would be no more wondering and heartache. What had passed between them was the past. It was over. She would forget it, she would move on, and if their paths ever happened to cross again. She would kill him.
- CHAPTER 3 -
"There was a raid."
Braith silently pondered Caleb's words as the tailor moved deliberately around him. The man finally had stopped mumbling to himself, and although he continued to work, Braith knew he was listening raptly to the conversation. "And?" Braith prodded.
"She was not amongst the captured."
"The dead?"
"No. The soldiers know that she is to be brought back here alive, if she's caught. That they all are."
Braith shrugged, disliking the feel of the coat he wore. "No matter the orders, there are always casualties in war," he murmured. He expected Caleb to leave after delivering the news. Even twisted, brutal Caleb didn't like to be around him for any length of time anymore. No one did. Braith's temper had become volatile, his fury and paths of destruction were well known, and feared, amongst the residents of the palace.
A lot of blood had stained his hands over the past two months; he had consumed more blood in the past eight weeks than he had in the past eight years. But it was not enough; it would never be enough to bury the hatred festering inside of him. His murderous rampage had died down, but only because he had calmed enough to realize that the deaths of innocent people didn't ease his rage and didn't make him forget as much as he had hoped
it would. Now he just consumed mass quantities of blood, but most of the time the people survived it now.
"Is there more?" he demanded impatiently of his brother.
Caleb cleared his throat. "She was not amongst the dead, and she was not amongst the captured, but she was there."
Braith's head slowly came up as he turned toward his brother. He couldn't see Caleb, darkness ruled his life once more, but he could smell the faint hint of excitement that rolled off of him. He stood for a protracted moment, stunned by Caleb's words. There had been no sign of her since she'd left here, and though he could have found her at any time, he refused to lower himself by going after her, by making her think that he desired her back, because he didn't. She had betrayed him after all; he wanted nothing more to do with the traitorous bitch.
And yet he felt a moment of apprehension rock through him. While he would like her punished for her treachery, would like her to suffer for what she had done to him, did he truly want her dead? Did he want her back here where she would be tortured and punished for her treachery? He had believed so, he had wanted it to be so, but now that his troops had stumbled across her, now that they were hot on her heels, he didn't know what he would do if she was recaptured. She would be tortured, beaten, and eventually killed. She would be branded a traitor, and she would be dealt with as such. It would be a brutal punishment.
If he really wanted her back, then he would have gone after her himself and brought her back here by now. But even though he hated her, even though she had sliced him deeply, and he would like for her to suffer as badly as he had upon first discovering her gone, he had to admit that he didn't want her dead.
In all the time since she'd been gone, it was the first time that he actually realized this fact. He coveted her blood, he yearned to taste her and see her again, and he was going to be the one that made her pay for her deceitfulness, not his brother or his father. His jaw clenched as he grasped the lapels on the jacket he wore. The hated jacket. The tailor made a faint sound of protest as he stepped down from the dais he had been standing upon, ignoring the annoying gnat of a man.
"How do you know she was there?" he growled.
"One of our people spotted her; it was why they went in when they did. They were hoping to capture her."
"Went in?"
"They were in a group of caves, apparently well engineered caves with a series of tunnels and gates throughout them. The caves were discovered last week, but they were going to wait until they knew where all of the exits were before raiding them. Our guards got a little overexcited when they spotted her and jumped the gun."
Caves, she was living in caves. She had spoken about her woods, and her forest, with such reverence that he had assumed she'd return directly to them as soon as she was free. Instead, she was living in caves, hidden beneath the earth, trapped beneath mounds of dirt and rock. It made no sense to him, but what made even less sense was the fact that he even remotely cared where she was living or what she was doing.
He had moved on with his life, he now owned several blood slaves, and though none of them were her, he found he did enjoy them. They made him forget for a little bit, they made it not so difficult to get through the days. Unlike Arianna, these slaves were far more pliant, and far less defiant. He was getting married in a matter of months, granted he couldn't stand the woman, but he need only have a male heir with her and then he wouldn't have to have anything to do with her again. He hadn't planned on marrying the woman, no matter what his father had arranged, but he was resigned to it now. For once, he hadn't intended to do his duty as the eldest son. Not until Arianna had abandoned him, running away with his brother and another blood slave.
After that, all he had longed for was to forget. There were even times during the day when he almost did forget, brief moments when he found a little reprieve from his memories in the copious amounts of blood. Those moments never lasted though, and there was a part of him that hated himself for what he was doing, but he knew that with enough blood, and enough time, he would eventually forget her. Eventually Arianna would die, she was human, and she lived a perilous life. It was only a matter of time before it happened, he would know when that time came, and he had thought that he would feel relief when it did.
He wasn't so sure now.
"Was there any sign of Jericho?"
Resentment boiled through him at the mention of his youngest brother, the sibling he had trusted and liked the most, and the one that had betrayed him the deepest. The one that had taken Arianna from him. Though he doubted she had put up any fight. In fact, he was fairly certain that despite her vows of love, and her promises to never leave him, she had run eagerly through the tunnel once it had been revealed to her. She was a fickle bitch after all, or at least that's what he had come to believe. Why else would she vow to love him forever and then leave him the very next morning?
And Jericho had become enemy number one now. Braith may not personally destroy Arianna, but he thought he would have a try at Jericho.
"They didn't see Jericho there, but I'm sure he was nearby. After all, he betrayed us for her, she must mean something to him."
Jericho had said that he was here to rescue Arianna because her father was the leader of the rebels. Jericho had come here for her because he was one of the few that could get her free. That's what he'd claimed, but Braith had a tough time believing anything that had come out of his brother's mouth during those days. His brother had also said that he wouldn't do anything without consulting Braith first, and then he had disappeared the next day.
In fact, he thought that Caleb was right, that Jericho did feel more for Arianna than just friendship and loyalty, why else would he have taken her like he had? Braith had never revealed to Caleb, or his father, Arianna's true history. There was no point in doing so, she was gone now, and there was no way to use her against her family anymore.
"There was a different man with her."
Braith's mouth curved in a sneer. "Was there," he said sardonically. How many men did the little bitch have? He speculated angrily. First there had been the blood slave, Max, then his brother, and now some other mystery man. His fingers twitched into a fist, he fought against the surge of bloodlust that tore through him. He was desperate to bury his fangs in something in order to try and forget the anger raging through him.
"Yes. They have no idea who it was, but it wasn't Jericho and it wasn't the other blood slave."
A muscle in his cheek began to twitch in aggravation; he felt his temper starting to unravel. He had thought Arianna a sweet innocent who had brought light back into his life. He was beginning to learn that nothing could be farther from the truth.
"I see." But he didn't see, and he wondered why he didn't go after her and drag her back here kicking and screaming. Why he didn't go after her, destroy her family, smash her rebel cause, and hunt down his treasonous brother and make them all pay. Pacing away, he tore the jacket off, suddenly feeling claustrophobic within the material. The tailor made a strangled sound of despair as the material ripped, but Braith didn't care. "Have they brought any blood slaves back?" he demanded.
"Yes, they are leading them onto the stage now."
Braith nodded, he grabbed his cane and hefted it into his hands. Keegan, his ever faithful wolf and seeing dog, yawned before rising to his feet. His claws clicked against the wood floor as he walked beside Braith. "Let's go."
Caleb hesitated for only moment before falling into step beside him. Braith was used to the darkness, used to navigating it; he didn't require any assistance as he moved through the hallways of the palace. The cane clicked off the floor, but it was Keegan that always alerted him to any new obstacle that may have been placed in the way. With a subtle pressure against his leg Keegan could steer him easily one way or the other.
Braith swiftly made his way down to the stage that held the future blood slaves. Though he was before the stage his vision didn't come back to him as it had the day that Arianna had been on the auction block. He'd been
unable to move at the sight of her, unable to believe that he could actually see anything again, let alone this frightened, dirty, bedraggled girl that was everything he disliked about a woman.
She was not round, she was not voluptuous, she smelled far from decent, and yet he had seen her. She was the first thing he had witnessed in over a hundred years. And slowly, over the time he spent with her, she had become infinitely beautiful to him. Yes she was defiant, harsh, far too skinny for his taste, and not beautiful in the classical sense, but she was also strong, sweet, innocent, and unbelievably breathtaking. He had come to care greatly for her, until he had realized that it was all a lie. That she was in fact none of those things, and was instead a cunning, manipulative shrew.
He stared in the direction of the stage once more, but still nothing popped out at him. No other women appeared to him, no one else gave him vision again. "Is there anyone up there that could be her family?"
Caleb was silent for a few moments. "Not that I can see. I'm going to grab a few of them, I'm sure they'll eventually tell us more. And if they don't," Braith heard Caleb's shrug of indifference. "I will enjoy trying to make them talk."
Braith stood silently, listening as blood slaves were brought forth and auctioned off. Caleb claimed four of them. Braith briefly contemplated taking a few more of his own, but decided against it. He had enough, for now.
He turned away, if there was anything to learn, Caleb would do it. He made his way back toward the palace, wondering where Jericho had been during the raid, wondering who it was that she had been with. Another man? Just how many damn men did she have in her life? He tried to tell himself that he didn't care about the answer to that question, but he knew he did. He could not deny it. The bitch had betrayed him, and now she was running free, wrapping even more men around her devious little finger. He hated her for making him one of those men.