Page 77 of Taken By The Dark Three
Eryx shifts, voice muffled by the sheets. “We’ll guide them, or tear down those who refuse. We’re unstoppable, remember?”
Zareth’s soft rumble: “Yes. Let them fight us if they dare.”
We drift into a contented silence, hearts beating in sync. In the quiet, I imagine the dawn of our new rule. With Selene as the pivotal figure, we’ll mend or break Orthani’s old caste laws, forging a city that doesn’t fear purna or enslave them. The vow we made, sealed by that public ceremony, cements my place at her side—and Eryx’s and Zareth’s in her life. Orthani stands on the brink, uncertain whether to celebrate or protest. But it’s too late for them to revert to blind cruelty. We hold the city’s future in our hands.
Sleep pulls at me. I let my eyes close, contentment washing away the day’s tension. In the hush, I sense Selene’s breathing slow, Eryx’s hand resting lightly on her hip, Zareth’s calm aura lulling us. We share a bed, share a vow, share a dream of a new Orthani. Let the city wonder, let them adapt. We have shaped a new reality from the ashes, standing united in defiance of every stale tradition.
And as I slip into slumber, I hold her close, vowing silently that I will never let Orthani’s fear crush what we’ve built. We’ll protect Ai, protect each other, and guide this battered city into the future Selene envisions. The old shadows fade, replaced by a bright dawn of our own making—purna and dark elf, forging a path that none dared dream before.
27
SELENE
Istand at the edge of Orthani’s western battlements, gazing out over the city that nearly tore itself apart. The morning sun sets the sky ablaze in gilded orange, a contrast to the lingering smell of scorched stone and singed flesh. I feel the breeze shifting against my skin, catching fragments of ash that still drift through the streets below. Even with our fragile victory—staving off the Red Purna’s rampage—the weight of this city’s devastation hangs in the air like a sentence not fully pronounced.
Vaelith said King Rython Vatoris wanted an immediate meeting once the dust settled. He’s Orthani’s ruler in name, cunning and ruthless in practice. With half the nobility in shock after the siege and the Red Purna temporarily scattered, I suppose he sees an opening to reassert control. But I’m not sure which side of me he intends to flatter or threaten: the purna who can fling psionic blasts and transformations, or the woman who just publicly bound herself to a dark elf commander while keeping two other men in my thrall.
Footsteps approach from behind. A faint rasp of steel along leather—Eryx’s scimitars. I turn. He halts at my side, his wrysmirk flashing. “You’re certain you don’t want me skulking in the shadows when you meet the King? I’m quite skilled at slicing throats if negotiations go sour.”
I press a hand lightly to his chest in playful admonishment. “We’re trying for a fragile peace, not more blood on these stones. Besides, Vaelith insists the King’s official envoy demanded a personal audience. No clandestine watchers. Zareth will be absent too.”
Eryx gives a careless shrug. “Zareth is likely prowling the council halls, ensuring none of them conspire in secret. Or sulking that he can’t break the King’s mind if the conversation goes sideways.”
I snort softly, a flicker of amusement. “He’ll do what must be done.” My gaze drifts down to Eryx’s bandaged arm. “Stay close by, though. If Rython tries anything underhanded, I want you within earshot.”
A spark of mischief lights his eyes. “A simple command, dear queen. Then afterwards, maybe we celebrate another day of not dying.” He leans closer, voice dropping. “I can think of ways to reward your cunning in a private suite.”
Warmth flutters in my belly at his suggestion. Memories of our last entangled night with the others pulse through me, but I push them aside. “Focus on the immediate threat, Eryx,” I murmur. Still, I can’t resist a brief grin. “We’ll see about that reward after I’ve faced the King.”
He inclines his head, stepping back. “I’ll linger not far. Good luck.”
I watch him meld into a side corridor, tension thrumming in my shoulders. Then I descend the stone staircase alone, heading for the keep’s antechamber where Rython insisted we meet. My footsteps echo in the gloom of half-broken corridors. Everywhere, signs of the Red Purna’s assault: walls scorched black, arches collapsed. Orthani survived, yes, but at a cost. Iwonder if the King acknowledges that cost or simply tries to reassert his throne.
Reaching the antechamber, I find Vaelith waiting by the heavy wooden doors. He stands tall in battered armor, the faint lines of fatigue around his eyes. When I approach, he nods in greeting. “The King is inside. I demanded to stand at your side as your spouse under Orthani’s vow, but he insisted only you. He’s playing politics.”
I exhale. “Let him. If he thinks I’m naive enough to come unprepared, he’s in for a surprise.” I trace a hand along Vaelith’s gauntleted forearm in a quick show of solidarity. “Stay near. We’ll see what the King truly wants.”
He dips his head, eyes flickering with concern. “I trust you. But be cautious.”
I push the doors open, stepping into a chamber that once boasted luxurious tapestries and shining candelabras. Now half the drapes are torn, and the gilded surfaces bear scorch marks. At the far end, King Rython Vatoris stands among a cluster of advisors. He’s tall, draped in regal dark robes, hair slicked back to emphasize pointed ears and a cunning gaze. His expression is carefully schooled, but tension radiates from him.
Steadying my breath, I stride forward, letting my posture claim the room. The King’s advisors part, wary of my presence. I notice fleeting hostility in some, curiosity in others. Rython’s gaze flicks over me, assessing. Then he waves a dismissive hand, and the advisors withdraw to the periphery, leaving us a measure of privacy.
“Selene Varess,” Rython drawls, voice oozing politeness with a sharp undercurrent. “The famed purna who saved Orthani from the Red Purna’s assault. You certainly know how to leave an impression.”
I offer a slight tilt of my head. “I prefer that to leaving a graveyard. Orthani nearly became rubble. I helped preserve it.”
He steps closer, the gleam in his eyes reminiscent of a viper. “Yes, in the process upending Orthani’s long-held traditions. Your public vow with Vaelith turned heads. Word spreads that you keep multiple dark elf consorts. I wonder what you truly want from my city, from me.”
I let a faint smile curve my lips. “Only what Orthani refused purna for centuries: a chance to exist without persecution. I have no desire to seize your throne or topple the monarchy. But I won’t watch your city continue to enslave purna or humans.”
His nostrils flare, but he keeps composure. “I see. You do not want the throne, yet your presence among Orthani’s surviving populace is… considerable. My nobles murmur you might become a shadow queen, controlling from behind the scenes.”
I arch a brow. “If you fear a purna controlling Orthani, perhaps reflect on how the city forced purna to the brink of extinction. I want a peaceful opening for purnas, a seat in your council to ensure we’re not hunted. I plan to form a local coven—a refuge for purnas who reject Prazh’s militant stance or can’t travel there.”
He studies me with cold interest, pacing a few steps. “You speak of forging purna enclaves within Orthani. That alone undermines centuries of dark elf dominion. But after the Red Purna’s devastation, many see you as a lesser evil compared to them.” He chuckles, the sound as smooth as poison. “Still, Orthani thrives on old traditions. Are you certain you can persuade them to accept purna as equals?”
I match his dangerous tone. “If they don’t, there will be more conflicts. Do you prefer another siege? Another wave of hatred fueling Red Purna vengeance? Opening Orthani to purna is your best path to avoid repeated bloodshed.”
