Knowing what the outcome of facing Caben must be. Or that I’m not ready to see that outcome through.
Either way, I move ahead.
? 5 ?
Caben
THE PALACE DOORS COME down with a crash. Dust kicks up off the marble entryway as the Otherworlders hustle across the busted doors to lock down the ground floor, the first wave of our invasion.
As I step through the doorway, the smell of my home wafts around me, carrying memories of my childhood and the last time I was here. Scenes of my father’s death cover my vision, followed by me being rushed to safety and out of my country soon afterward.
Closing my eyes for a moment, I allow the haunting images to surface and then fade, until they’re nothing more than a distant flicker of recognition. With a determined step over the fallen threshold, I open my eyes and enter my home.
Sounds from the battle flood the palace in every direction, and I quickly calculate my route. With the reserves far away, taking over the palace should be child’s play—but I know my council, Perinya’s leaders. And I know Kaliope. I’m not declaring victory so soon.
As the Otherworlders secures the ground level, I rush past the screams and the clang of weapons to the stairway ascending to the chapel. If I know anything, it’s that the women of Cavan look to their goddess above all else. I’m sure the empress is near there, guarding her relic. The shard in her proximity. I can feel the pull leading me—something reaching inside and guiding me.
I’m not sure if it’s Bale sensing the goddess relic or my own draw to Kal. But it’s strong. Only it’s in the opposite direction than I need to be going.
Hurriedly turning down the left hallway, away from the chapel, I grip my chest as a burning pain sears me from the inside. “Blast, woman—”
It’s there…
I press against my breastbone and growl. “I take care of my affairs first. That’s the deal.” Bale’s angered cry pierces my head, and I shake off the pain, imagining I can feel the drip of blood from my ears.
With a harsh curse, I change my course. If getting the damned relic and shard means ridding myself of the constant nagging and bickering…then so be it. One way or another, I’m getting everything I came here for. No matter which order. I just hate giving in to her whims. Hate the weakened state she puts me in.
The dark goddess quiets as I near the chapel. Everything becomes eerily silent the closer I get. Unsheathing my sword, I creep along the stone wall, led by an invisible, taut cord drawing me forward.
A shout rends the silence. The sound of blades trading blows. And then Kal’s voice bleeds into my ears. Her venom-laced words come to me, lifting the corners of my mouth into a smile, as she faces off with one of the Otherworlder mutants just around the wall.
Anticipation buzzes through my veins.
“Die, maggot!” she cries.
My feet swallow the distance around the corner, my heart pounding against my ribs. Then as Kal makes the killing strike, I find myself stopped and staring at my green-eyed beauty in all her battle-fueled glory.
Her chest rises and falls with her labored breaths. Her hair is loose, tumbling in heavy disarray around her shoulders, just co
ncealing her face as she stares down at her slain enemy. She knows I’m here—knows she must meet my eyes. But she’s refusing to look at me until the last moment. Maybe waiting for me to make the first move before she’s forced to acknowledge my presence.
Games. Oh, how I love them. And with Kaliope? It’s the ultimate sport. I become aroused just watching her, just waiting for the seconds to end my torture and she’s made to raise her sword against mine. It’s a human flaw, this yearning, I know. But it’s so much more than that.
Desire to own her, body and mind, consumes me. And I’m almost saddened that I must end her. Almost.
I step forward, upping our stand-off to the next level, and watch as her small, thin fingers curl tighter around the hilt of her sword. I lift my weapon, just enough to force her eyes to flick up.
When our gazes finally meet, my breath halts in my chest. Hers are not the cold and calculating eyes I expected to greet from the fierce Nactue leader. They’re laced with something deep and bothersome—regret. Anger ignites my blood.
I won’t have her pity.
“At last, my love.” Cocking my head, I let my gaze travel over her body, and gloat that it affects her. “I was beginning to think you were purposely avoiding me.”
As she rolls her shoulders back, lifting her chin higher, I marvel at her forced bravado. The only sign that she’s hesitant is the slight tremble in her limbs. “I’ve been waiting for you to work up the courage, Bale.” She smiles. It’s fake. “Figured you thought I was out for the night. Sorry to disappoint you.”
Taking another step closer to her, I say, “Bale is busy right now, love. Sorry to disappoint you, but it’s all man you’re dealing with here.” Lowering my sword, I make a show of flexing my bicep—I know how she so adores men. “Think you can handle that?”
I see the moment the truth hits her. The slight widening of her eyes, the parting of her mouth. She’s trying to find the lie in my words. Wishing them to be false. And I nearly regret correcting her. If her feelings for me hinder her—make her waver even for a second—I won’t be fighting the warrior I’ve been dreaming about destroying for months. I need her at her full ferocity. Anything less would be a true disappointment.