Broken

Octavion released a deep, throaty growl. “I refuse to believe that. And if I have to beg the King of Panthera to save the woman I love, I will do it.”

“You are not thinking straight. King Ramla will give nothing without demanding much in return.”

“Whatever he asks of me, I shall give it,” Octavion said. “Whatever it takes to save her, I will do without hesitation.”

“And what if he asks your allegiance? Will you give up your crown and your kingdom?”

Octavion cursed his thoughtlessness-for a moment he’d forgotten the king of Panthera was not a kind and gracious ruler like his father. He’d heard Ramla had built his kingdom by granting favors and requesting allegiance in return. Octavion knew the answer that lay in his heart, but confessing it to his father would be difficult. He took in a deep breath and straightened to his full stature. “If it means saving her-yes. Even my life would be given freely if it meant she would live.”

His father took a step back, clearly shaken by this revelation. “She means that much to you?”

“I am blood bound to her, Father. There is none other for me. But even if I had not made that choice, I would make this one now.”

The king’s usual pompous demeanor melted away. His shoulders slumped as he averted his eyes, his exaggerated sigh proclaiming his disappointment. “Blood bound?” he asked, in a ragged whisper. “When?”

“I was badly injured. She healed me and our blood mixed in the process. I chose it. She has no idea of the bond between us, nor the consequences it would bring upon my head if she died at the hand of another.”

The king straightened, pulling his nobility around him like a cloak and discarding the visage of father. “Very well, then. I will contact King Ramla’s royal ministry and request an audience.” He motioned to the mourning attire Octavion still wore. “You should change. King Ramla will not accept you unless you are dressed appropriately.”

Octavion put his hand on his father’s shoulder. “Thank you, Father. We must hurry. Fever has set in and I fear Kira does not have long to live.”

Chapter Two

By the time Octavion changed into suitable clothing, his father had made the arrangements. King Ramla would grant the prince of Xantara a brief audience, but only if he arrived before sunset. Opening the palace and accepting visitors after dark was far too dangerous and since the request had been made in urgency, foul play was certain to be expected.

Octavion glanced out his father’s window to find less than half the sun visible above the distant tree line. He was out of time. “Pray to the Gods, Father. I need their guidance.”

“I would do no less. Be safe.”

Within two heartbeats, Octavion appeared outside the gates of Panthera. He’d only been there once when he was a boy. His father had requested he take lessons from a seasoned Jayde and the best lived in Panthera. Actually, the best was King Ramla himself, but he would never stoop to tutor a young boy from another kingdom, let alone heir.

As Octavion approached the towering iron gates, two guards stepped from the shadows and drew their swords. Octavion held his empty hands before him so they saw he meant no harm. “I am Octavion, son of Belesgar, King of Xantara. I am expected.”

The larger of the two men moved closer, both hands gripping his sword. He raised it up in front of him. “We have sealed the gates for the night. No one may enter.”

Octavion dropped his hands to his sides and tried to remain calm. “My father has gained permission from King Ramla himself. He is expecting me. If you refuse to open the gates I will gain entry of my own accord.”

“We have our orders. Leave now or we will call for reinforcements.”

Octavion felt his Royal blood heating within him as the muscles across his shoulders and back swelled. “It is urgent. Open the gates and stand aside.” Octavion took a step toward the gate, but stopped short as three Royals appeared in front of him.

The one in the center wore black ceremonial garments adorned with the insignia of a powerful Jayde. The small scar on his left brow identified him as Darion, Octavion’s old tutor.

“You dare threaten to enter Panthera without permission?” Darion asked. “The punishment is death.”

“I have been granted permission by King Ramla. I arrived before sunset as requested. My reason for seeing him will not wait-a life is at stake. Please, Darion. I must see him now.” Octavion lowered his eyes and bowed his head in a show of respect for his mentor.

Darion’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know my name?”

Octavion straightened, meeting the older man’s curious eyes. “I am your student, Octavion of Xantara.”

“And you assume this information will bring you favor with me or the king? Be gone with you.” Darion waved his hand in the air, dismissing Octavion, then turned to address the guards.

Regardless of the unforgivable insult to a Jayde of such power, Octavion closed the distance between them and clamped his hand on Darion’s shoulder. Touching his garment could bring instant imprisonment to the offender and Octavion had done much more than that-he’d shown force.

Darion moved without hesitation. He spun around, clamped his fingers around Octavion’s neck and delivered a debilitating blow that sent Octavion to his knees. The next moment, they were in the middle of the B’Kari mountains surrounded by towering black pines and thickets of berry bushes, the thorns of which could kill with a mere prick. “You dare touch me? Do you remember nothing of what I taught you?”

Even moving his jaw was painful and almost impossible, but Octavion forced out an answer. “You have denied me the only chance I have to save the woman to whom I am blood bound. Do with me as you wish. Death? I welcome it.”

Darion released his grip on Octavion’s neck, letting him fall to the ground in a heap. “You are a fool. Step one foot in Panthera without invitation and evil will rain unrestrained upon Xantara.” Without reaching down, he summoned Octavion’s dagger from its sheath and flipped it in the air with a flick of his wrist, driving the blade into the soil inches from Octavion’s face. “Death will have to come at your own hand.” A dark laugh escaped from deep inside his chest before he vanished.

Octavion lay motionless for several seconds, fighting against the pain surging through his veins. He’d never felt such power-it had stripped him of every ounce of energy he had. Another moment and he could finally roll to one elbow. He slowly pushed to his knees, then leaned back on his heels. With a trembling hand he reached for his dagger and pulled it from the ground, but he couldn’t lift it. Not yet. Instead, he let it rest loosely in his palm, the cool forest floor grounding him. Father, I have failed.

Come home, my son. We will find another way.

Octavion sighed. He knew his father would plead with him to return, so he closed his mind, keeping his thoughts to himself.

“Kira!” he roared to the heavens. But the sinking feeling in his chest told him it was no use. The many prayers to his gods had gone unanswered.

Grasping the dagger with both hands, Octavion brought the tip of the blade to the middle of his chest, the rapid beat of his heart vibrating through to his fingertips. He had no hope of a cure for Kira. No magic to bring her life. But in Lor, they could be together-their spirits would live in peace for eternity. If he died first, he could be there to welcome her, to hold her in his arms. To love her. She would never be alone again. Never feel the pain of abandonment.

He threw back his head, the two crescent moons barely visible between the gaps in the trees above him. Every fiber of his soul rejected his intention to take his own life, but he was numb and felt nothing for himself or those he would leave behind. Putting more pressure to the blade, he closed his eyes and uttered one last plea to his god.

“Zi’ah, throw open Thy gates. . and receive my spirit.”