King of Swords (Stormcloud Academy 1)

Had I overstepped? I couldn’t let on about my suspicions. It was absolutely possible the Kings could have someone killed. Zephyr and I both knew that. He shook his head like a disappointed parent.

“It’s time you grew up, Biba Quinn.”

“Meaning what?”

“You’re one of us, now.”

Squinting, I studied his face to see if he was joking. “One of who?”

“The Kings, of course. You think you know all about us. It’s time you learned the truth. Follow me.”

Reaching out a hand, he led me out of the portico and into the gathering night. Did I want to learn the “truth” he was promising? Maybe I did, and maybe I didn’t. Either way, I wouldn’t admit it. I’d rather wait and see what was entailed.

“I’ll tell you one thing I know,” I said as we walked. “I know you’ve engineered me into this position. What will it take to save my life?”

“You give me too much credit.”

He lit a cigarette as we moved, blowing small circles of smoke into the cool mountain air. Turning away from me, his hand pulled us closer to a precipice, beyond which was a harrowing drop. My heart started racing, but Zephyr held my hand tightly. I had no choice but to do as he requested.

He yanked me to his side. His arm wound around me, turning me to face him, and with the other hand, he flicked the cigarette over the edge. I watched it over my shoulder for a brief second as the embers drifted more slowly in their death fall.

There is a sort of strange peace in standing in the embrace of your enemy. The evasion is over, and you are facing your fate, whatever it is to be. I knew he felt it, too. His posture loosened, his body bending to conform to my own in a possessive, supportive way. One hand held me in the small of my back, pressing me to him. The other pushed my hair out of my face, lifted my chin, and then he bent to kiss me. He kissed hard, and it stung. When he pulled away, my fingers went to my lips in reaction, and there was blood on them as I pulled them back. I frowned, but Zephyr put his lips on my forehead and coaxed them smooth.

“Don’t worry. You’ve done the right thing. Be glad you came to me.”

He pulled me to the edge of the overhang. It caused me to stiffen and pull back. He turned with a sly grin.

“Do you think I would kill you now that I finally have you where I want you?” There was something sincere in his eyes if such a thing was possible.

I fell for it and followed him. Once at the edge, his knees bent, and he jumped. I gasped but heard his feet hit another surface. “Come down with me, Biba. You won’t fall. I promise.”

Was it possible to trust him? I leaned as far as I dared over the edge but only saw his outstretched hand. “Are you sure?”

“Of course, I am. You think I want to kill myself?”

He had a point. “Well, since you’re sure. Here I come in three. One-two-three!” I jumped, careful not to scrape my back on the outcropping or to over-jump and be catapulted into the valley below. A strong arm grabbed me, and suddenly I was standing beside Zephyr. He pointed behind us, and I turned to see a completely unexpected scene.

Sheltered beneath the outcropping was a wooden, arched door. The chinked stone archway that held it into the mountain was covered with ivy. The door had been painted bright red. The window was an ornate presentation of stained glass. An iron grid held the glass firmly in place. Zephyr gave me a short, mocking bow.

“Welcome to the Kings’ Club,” he said, sweeping his arm toward the iron latch of the door.

“I never dreamed there could be anything like this here!” I marveled. “Has it been here all this time?”

“And then some… We believe about three hundred years, judging by the fixtures and swords mounted to inside walls. But then, you’ll see all the treasures it holds. I hope you brought your courage.”

With that, he inserted a key into the iron lock of the door. It popped open. Zephyr took me by the hand and led me inside. The door slammed shut behind us, the hinges creaking with an ancient groan. I put my hand out to open it, but there was no handle on the inside.

I was trapped. I looked to Zephyr, whose eyes had turned black in the dim flickering of the flaming sconces mounted on the stone walls.

Zephyr took my hand again, this time pulling me deeper into the cavern. On the other side of the doorway lay a huge room with a vaulted ceiling and matching torches. The center of the room featured a pool of sorts, roughly bordered by stacked rocks. Here and there were clusters of antique weaponry hanging from the rock walls: halberds, battle axes, morning stars, and claymores, all glinting malevolent in the firelight.