Page 35 of Taken By The Dark Three
Eventually, I decide fresh air might settle my restlessness. I step into the corridor, ignoring the guard’s startled look. “I need to walk,” I announce. He grunts but follows. I wander the estate halls, picking routes I haven’t explored. One corridor leads to a smaller library, lined with locked cabinets. Another to a lounge with cushioned chairs and a grand fireplace. Servants dart by, heads bowed. I offer no greeting.
Then I stumble upon a small training yard. Torches line the perimeter, casting flickering light on a polished stone floor. No one is here. Perfect. I gesture to the guard. “Stay at the entrance. I want to practice forms.” He hesitates, then obeys, positioninghimself near the arched entrance. As a courtesy, Orthani’s wards likely won’t object to some private drills. Good.
Stepping onto the yard’s center, I unsheathe the dagger Vaelith allowed me. The torchlight glints off the blade’s edge. My heart pounds with a craving for motion. I run through fluid forms, each slash and parry guided by the memory of battles I’ve survived. Soon, my breath comes in soft pants. I spin, dagger whistling through the warm night air, imagining I face an invisible foe—Zareth’s mental assault, Eryx’s cunning secrets, Vaelith’s watchful eyes. I lash out again and again, until my arms quiver from the exertion.
Something shifts at the entrance. My guard stands straighter, a shape looming behind him. Vaelith emerges from the shadows. My pulse jolts. He likely caught word that I’m practicing alone. Tension flares in my chest. Our gazes lock as he crosses into the torchlight, his posture carrying that military calm I know so well.
“You find hidden corners for training now?” he asks, voice low but unaccusing. More curious than angry. “You could’ve asked for the main yard.”
My chest heaves from exertion, a fine sheen of sweat on my skin. “I wanted quiet. Fewer eyes.”
He studies me, eyes trailing over my stance, the dagger in my grip. “You push yourself relentlessly. Why?”
I wipe a bead of sweat from my temple with the back of my hand. “Because your infiltration test tomorrow isn’t a joke. If I fail, you’ll never trust me outside these walls.” That’s the partial truth. The deeper reason is I need every advantage to outmaneuver Orthani, but I won’t say that.
His expression softens a fraction. “The test is demanding, yes. But you’re skilled. I’ve no doubt you can handle it.”
I exhale, letting the dagger’s tip lower. The yard’s torchlight flickers across his obsidian features, highlighting the war brand on his left arm. There’s something about him in these half-litmoments—driven, unwavering, yet harboring an undercurrent of tension that matches my own. Sparks flicker in the space between us, reminiscent of our sharper clashes.
He steps closer, leaving a mere breath between us. My pulse flutters. I sense that coiled attraction, the same that’s haunted each meeting. “You said earlier you’re doing this for yourself,” he murmurs. “Not Orthani. Mind telling me what you truly hope to gain?”
I swallow, heat swirling in my veins. “If I told you, you’d clamp me in irons.”
He smirks, a flash of unexpected humor. “Possibly. But I might also be curious enough to let you speak.”
The tension thickens. For a heartbeat, I want to challenge him further, press up against his defenses. But caution prevails. I half-turn away, blade dropping to my side. “Curiosity can be dangerous, Commander. Let’s keep some secrets. Or do you prefer to enforce absolute obedience?”
A flicker of something crosses his face, annoyance or hunger, maybe both. He lifts a hand, as though he might brush back a loose strand of my hair. Then he seems to think better of it, letting the hand fall. “Obedience is safer,” he admits quietly, “but you’ve never cared about safe.”
His words stir an ache in my chest. Safe? No, I rarely had that luxury. Even so, the raw honesty in his tone surprises me. I tilt my chin up. “I can’t be safe here, not truly. We stand on opposite sides of too many lines.” The look we share is fraught, the tension ripping open old wounds. A part of me wonders what it might feel like if we dropped these roles for a moment, but that’s a fleeting fantasy.
He dips his head, close enough that I catch the faint scent of steel and sweat. Torchlight gilds the curve of his jaw, the tight line of his mouth. My heart pounds in a painful staccato. The swirling energy that draws us is thick enough to taste, but it’slayered atop all we resent about each other. Then, as abruptly as it flares, he steps back, an almost trembling exhale escaping him.
His gaze flicks to the dagger in my hand. “Train as you will,” he says hoarsely. “Don’t exhaust yourself. Tomorrow demands your best.”
I nod, throat tight. “Understood.”
With a last lingering look, he strides away. The guard follows him, leaving me alone once more in the flickering torchlight. My breath shakes, and I curse inwardly at how easily Vaelith stirs me. I never asked for this undercurrent of desire, or for the way my body responds when he stands so close. It complicates everything.
Still, tomorrow’s infiltration test looms, and I’ll need my full focus. Putting aside these tangled thoughts, I resume my practice, repeating fluid sequences, each slash a vow to remain in control of my path. Orthani’s war council may think they own me, but I’ll use their arrogance for my own ends. Let Vaelith harbor whatever curious pull he feels. Let Zareth circle with hungry psionic eyes. Let Eryx roam in the city’s shadows. I stand at the center of their ambitions, forging my own destiny.
By the time I finish, my limbs tremble from exertion, sweat dripping along my brow. The torch flame has nearly burned to a sputtering stub. I tuck the dagger away, stepping back inside the corridor. A late hour hush blankets the estate. My guard reappears, escorting me to my room with minimal fuss. My bed beckons in the gloom, a meager comfort, but I drop onto it. Sleep remains elusive. I stare at the low-burning lamp, mind replaying the war council, my sly sabotage, the orchard solitude, the tense exchange with Vaelith in the training yard. My heart thrums with anticipation for tomorrow.
In that half-dark, half-sleepless state, I let a soft chuckle escape me. I’m slipping deeper into Orthani’s labyrinth, weaving trust with a city I despise, luring them into believing I might betamed. But a caged viper is still a viper. The question remains whether I’ll poison them from within or become entangled in these men’s conflicting demands. For Ai’s sake, for my own liberation, I must stay two steps ahead.
Exhaustion drags me under. Tomorrow awaits, with infiltration tests, subterfuge, and more encounters with Vaelith that threaten to spark a wildfire I’m not sure either of us can contain. I close my eyes, allowing the swirl of my plans to lull me. My last conscious thought is a silent promise that I won’t be broken by Orthani’s chain. No matter how seductive or fierce the men in my orbit, I will carve a path to freedom—one cunning step at a time.
12
ERYX
Imelt into the thick shadows lining Orthani’s side streets, my pulse thrumming with predatory anticipation. The city’s eternal gloom welcomes me, swallowing my movements with ease. My boots make almost no sound on the uneven cobblestones. At times, a faint torchlight glimmers around a corner, but I slip away before the guards can register my presence. This route is etched into my memory by now—an abandoned corridor that skirts Vaelith’s estate, threading past collapsed walls and disused archways.
In the distance, the estate’s high towers loom, washed in wavering torchlight. Dark silhouettes of guards pace along the upper walls, scanning the perimeter for intruders. They never seem to spot me. Good. I’ve prepared for weeks, testing each guard’s routine and coaxing some into letting me slip by unnoticed. My blood quickens at the challenge of infiltration. If there’s anything I love more than outsmarting Orthani’s watch, it’s cornering the purna who’s caught in their snare.
I cross a narrow footbridge spanning a half-dried canal. The reek of stagnant water clings to the air. Past the canal, Vaelith’s estate gardens begin, a sprawl of manicured hedges andcunningly shaped trees. At night, the place looks haunted, lit by discrete mage-lamps that cast pale glows along winding paths. A figure in black leathers guards the rear gate. I exhale, letting the faint hum of my chaos-laced magic swirl around me. A gentle push to his mind—like a whisper saying, “look away”—and he straightens, gazing into empty space. Perfect. I slip past him, rounding a thick hedge, my heart pounding in savage triumph.
Selene must be inside. Perhaps she’s forced to stay in her assigned chamber, or maybe Vaelith has her training at all hours. Every rumor I hear suggests she’s grown in skill, using that lethal mind of hers to outwit his officers. My lips curl at the thought. If she’s indeed thrived despite Orthani’s attempts to tame her, that proves she’s worth my time. We have unfinished business. She needs to know I have more to offer than illusions of safety. If she wants freedom, I can deliver it. If she craves vengeance, I can feed that hunger until we reduce Orthani’s council to rubble.
