Chapter 34: A Long Story

Oleksander's anger is nothing versus my silence and he eventually sends me from him after only a short time. When he called for me after Sage was taken down to the cells, I went willingly. But I chose not to allow my grandfather's disappointment and judgment stop me from my path.

I must save Sage.

I leave the throne room as silently as I entered and head for the hall on the other side of the main staircase. Werewolves avoid my eyes, my witch and vampire friends now gone. I have no support here, it seems, my people no longer trusting me. Let them believe what they like. Let them believe Caine or Andre Dumont. They can all burn in hell for all I care.

Have I really written off my entire race for the love of one normal man?

Yes. Yes, I have.

I'm stopped at the bottom of the narrow staircase leading to the dungeons. I've been here many times before, as a child to be shown the error of disobeying, often left in a cage for days at a time with no food or water, only my werewolf strength and resiliency to keep me alive. And again, when I returned after the breaking of my bond to Syd, once again under the cruel hand of the Czar and his sorcerers.

But this is the first time I've ventured down here as a free werewolf. And I like it even less. There is something about it that makes me feel powerless, so when Roman appears at the base of the stairs and holds up one hand, I pause without thinking to do otherwise.

"You're not permitted here." His teeth flash in the light, tattoos traveling up his neck toward the dark stubble on his face making him appear like an ancient, carved idol.

But he's not alone, and when Maksym's face joins his, heavy hand pulling Roman back, I start my final descent, reaching the cold stone floor as the pair face off.

"Who says?" Maks bristles. I believe his guilt over being involved in this mess is making him aggressive.

Roman just snarls as though unaccustomed to being questioned.

"Since when were you made a wereguard?" Please, Grandfather. Oh, please.

"The king has welcomed our pack," Roman says with a flat smile. "Sorry you missed it."

That's it. Oleksander is either senile or he's so clever I can't see his end game. But I can't worry about my grandfather right now, or the werenation, or anything else. Not when my heart hurts behind bars just a few feet away.

"Out of the way, both of you." I push them aside with measured power, taking in Roman's hate and Maks's sadness at my harsh treatment of him. "Or call for my grandfather. Pick one."

Neither moves so I step past them and deeper into the hallway. The first cell is occupied, I don't have to go far to stand before the bars and look in on Sage.

He's awake, sitting on the edge of the narrow wooden bunk creaking under his weight, the chains holding it to the wall swaying slightly. My hand rises and grips the bars, whitening, bones jutting outward as my only physical display of distress appears through my grasp on that iron bar.

Sage looks up, bleary eyed, but clear and aware. He stands and comes to me, wary at first. But he must see something in my eyes that pulls him closer because he gives up his suspicion and ends up with one of his own hands holding the same bar I do, just below mine. I look down at his strong fingers, his big hand and just managed to suppress a shudder.

"Charlie." He whispers my name. "What the hell?"

"I have a long story to tell you," I whisper back. "And you're not going to believe or even understand most of it. But you have the right to know what's happening to you."

I gesture for him to sit, but he won't leave my proximity, leaning forward until his forehead is pressed to the space between the bars. "I can handle it," he says. "If it explains how I ended up in a dungeon with a wolf bite and a death sentence."

He's so calm, I almost weep for him. How can he be so composed at a time like this? But that is Sage and I'm grateful he's willing to listen instead of flying off into a rage.

I tell him, explaining as carefully as I can about werewolves and magic and witches. He listens, face blank, though occasionally his green eyes widen and one brow arches before settling again.

Neither of us moves as I walk him through my history, some of the past years I've spent with Syd and who she really is. Maybe it's not my place to share that information, but Sage has to know everything if what I'm going to attempt has a chance of working.

When I finally tell him of the revenants, he nods once.

"So I'm going to turn into a slavering psychopath without a soul, hell bent on converting everyone I can get my hands on into being just like me?" Sage's hand slips upward, skin touching mine.

"Something like that," I say. "Unless."

He stays still. "Unless?"

"We can find a cure." I catch Roman listening from my peripheral vision. "Syd and the others are still working on it."

"But if there was hope, I would still be upstairs," Sage says, "and not down here."

I don't comment. I can't, not with Caine's spy hovering, watching my every move.

Sage must sense my reticence, because he doesn't press me. "So now what?"

"We wait for you to turn the first time," I say. "They can't kill you until it happens. Pack law."

He barks a laugh, making me jump. "How kind of them." His anger shows for the first time as he pulls free of the bar and spins, going to his bunk. Sage stands there, head down, shoulders bowed as I try to find something to say.

All I can think of is how different the revenant in the woods felt. How Sage doesn't have the dark scent I associate with the bodies in the morgue. And my mind drifts to our healing, to the salvation of my race. To Syd and our freedom.

Could shedding the sorcery that contained us have changed the way revenants emerge? I gasp softly to myself. No, I won't allow hope. I must, instead, embrace determination and my willingness to give up everything. If the time comes I can explore such an idea, I will take it. Maybe hand it over to Syd or Femke to look into.

I have a more important job to do.

Sharlotta. Oleksander's mental voice is dark and heavy, but he doesn't have the same anger in him he did earlier. Your vampire friends are returned.

Coming. I hate to leave Sage, but it won't be for long. "I have to go."

He doesn't turn, just nods. I want to tell him not to be afraid, that I'll be back for him, very soon. But I can't. And it's better if he doesn't know what I have planned.

The throne room feels as oppressive as his cell as I enter to find Sebastian and Alison talking with my grandfather. Sebastian looks up as I come in, smiling softly at me.

"I have an idea," he says before Oleksander can speak. "If Sage will be willing."

"If it will save his life," I say.

"It may." Sebastian nods to his silent companion. "It was Alison's idea and I must say I'm embarrassed I didn't think of it."

She blushes past her paleness and bobs a nod to me. "I was thinking, we could make him a vampire."

I gape at her and then at Sebastian, echoing his sentiment. Why didn't I consider such a possibility myself?

"There are no promises it will work," the handsome vampire tells me and my grandfather. Am I wrong or does Oleksander look more eager about this offering of assistance than I thought he would? "But we can certainly make the effort if it will mean his life."

"You're offering him an out?" What is Caine doing here? I turn to snarl at him, but he ignores me, injecting himself, unwelcome, into our conversation as I remember Roman's words. Wereguards. Members of our court, now, officially. Why did Oleksander keep this from me?

Because he knew I'd fight him on it.

Caine's heavy disapproval settles on my grandfather. "Haven't you already given enough time and energy to this normal than is required by pack law?"

Oleksander looks like he wants to argue, but he simply shrugs. "What is one more attempt to save this boy?"

Caine snorts, crossing his arms over his chest. "I understand now the weakness in our race," he says, full of spite and scorn. "Being led by a werewolf who won't follow through with his own laws to appease other races."

I pounce on him, but Oleksander is quicker, pulling me back, snarling in my ear. I stand down, though Caine's grin and wink almost does me in.

"Our days of being controlled and led by others are over," Oleksander says to Caine. "And that includes being bullied by other weres. I may have welcomed you and your pack to join the wereguard, but that does not give you the right to challenge my word. Unless you plan to fight me for the throne." Caine doesn't comment. My grandfather lets me go and turns to Sebastian with a grim expression. "But Caine is correct about one thing. The boy is a revenant and, according to our law, must pay the price for his infection." I gape at him while he goes on. "While there was a chance the witches might heal him, that option is no longer on the table. And by creating a vampire out of him, we have no idea what kind of new race we could be giving form to if he has both werewolf revenant and vampire abilities." I hadn't thought of that, but it seemed a terrible excuse to let Sage die. "For that reason alone, though your offer is kind, I must refuse."

Sebastian bows to my grandfather, though his blue eyes never leave mine. "Understood, Your Majesty."

I jerk my arm free from Oleksander's grip. "Excuses and platitudes," I snap, forgetting we're in public, that others are there to witness me speak out against my king. "You just want this to go away."

My grandfather roars at me, the air vibrating with the volume of his voice. "And had you done your duty," he bellows, "we wouldn't be standing here. You, Sharlotta, have brought this on us. And you will bear the guilt of that boy's death for the rest of your life."

I turn and storm out, his words echoing in my head, hating him for reminding me this is all my fault.



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