Stars & Ashes

Chapter 5: Changes

Kia dreamed she was half asleep on warm sand, basking in the sun, the air soft on her skin, and the gentle swish of waves a soothing melody in her ears.

"How much longer does she need?"

The voice was familiar, but she couldn't place it. She tried to speak but something in her mouth prevented her vocal chords from responding. She wanted to open her eyes but her eyelids were sealed shut and refused to obey. I'm not on the beach, I'm in the water, she thought, as she understood she was floating and struggled to move her arms and legs. Panic rose as she realized she wasn't swimming on the surface—she was underwater and drowning.

"She's waking," the voice said. "More seds. Quick, before she damages herself."

When she next awoke, she was lying on a bed under clean white sheets. She attempted to sit up, couldn't and found her wrists and ankles restrained. She lay back, and for a few blessed minutes, she remembered nothing. The past was blank and as white and clean and empty as the room. She relaxed in the peaceful nothingness of the present, then memory snarled its way through the barrier she'd erected along with her dead. Her mother's face surrounded by the same white blonde hair she'd inherited, the looks of love she gave her children, even when they'd disappointed her, tore at her heart. At least she hadn't had to watch them die as she had her father. The sea she'd been drowning in retreated, but a faint throbbing at the base of her skull anchored her in the present, and one thing was clear: she was still a prisoner.

What about Jared? Was he alive? Would she ever see her brother again? She sought to contain her emotions, as she'd done for the past months, but something inside had shifted, and she surrendered, crying until she fell asleep exhausted by grief.

The door sliding open woke her, and she stared in shock as the Heir followed by the man who'd stolen her medallion walked in behind him. She turned away as chaotic memories of the Heir cutting their wrists and mixing his blood with hers surfaced.

"Still sulking at her good fortune," the thief commented.

What good fortune? She closed her eyes as if that would somehow make them disappear. She jerked her head around as the Heir sat down on the bed. Heat colored her cheeks, and she met his gaze, tasting bitterness.

"A moment, Nagavi." The man left, and the Heir's green eyes glinted as he moved forward and placed his fingers over her carotid artery.

Startled, her heartbeat raced.

"Shh, little bird," he said, moving his hand around to the sore spot at the base of her skull, carefully probing the area with his fingertips. "This, unfortunately, is necessary." He sat back and considered her, his eyes narrowing. "I need you to promise me something."

She swallowed. "What?" she croaked. How long had she been unconscious? "I don't understand."

"You must promise me you will tell nobody what happened between us on Jahanamu."

"Why?"

"That is not your concern, but your life is worth nothing if the emperor hears of it, and if you speak of it to anyone, anyone at all, Teyrn will hear of it."

She had a vague memory of what he'd done to her and didn't want to dredge up the details—yet she certainly had no ambition to become an object of interest to the Emperor Teyrn. Whatever was said about the Heir, his father was a thousand times worse. If she had to choose, and it seemed she did, she would pick the son. "Okay."

"Say it," he commanded.

Her instincts spiked in alarm. Why the Heir had any interest in her at all was beyond her comprehension, but she was at his mercy. "I promise not to tell anyone you gave me your blood. That is what you're talking about, right?" She couldn't quite quash the urge to be cheeky. "Satisfied?"