Ruined Kingdom Page 4

  Tye wasn't going to be easy to beat. From what he knew of the man, he'd started his career in the cages and retired to become a personal champion. It wasn't as grueling a job, but it did allow the Draconian more time for practice. Desmond felt the ever present sick feeling in his gut temporarily move from his wife to his sister. Everything was so much easier when the only women in his life were prostitutes. Now he had a wife, two sisters, and a stepmother, all of whom he deeply cared for. It felt like having a knife at his throat at all times.

  The three drum beats sounded and Gypsy moved in fast, swinging her sword into Tye, who crudely deflected it with his own. They briefly brawled in a flash of swords and fists. Gypsy was ferocious, hacking away at Tye's blade and armor as he struggled to keep up with her speed. But Desmond could tell she was using too much energy too early in the battle. I hope she knows what she's doing. If she tires before she can take him down, he'll kill her for sure.

  Keeping his attention on the fight, he decided to take another stab at talking to his wife. “Look, I'm not trying to be an asshole, Scarlet. I just don’t want this baby to bury you.”

  A soft thud against his upper arm pulled his gaze from the match. Scarlet had slumped over to the side with her eyes closed. When she didn’t respond to his nudge, he realized that she had fainted. Desperate with worry, Desmond picked her up like you would a baby, cradling her in his arms. Intent on getting her troublesome ass to the hospital before she could wake up, he jogged down the steps toward the exit as fast as he dared.

  * * * *

  Gypsy realized her mistakes too late to fix them. Tye was a hideous, slow brute, but what he lacked in speed and skill, he more than made up for in strength and endurance. The blows she delivered just weren’t hard enough to wear him down, nor her reach long enough to get through his defenses.

  Sometimes it really sucks being the smallest fighter in every battle. If only she could get close enough to him. Tye made several fast slices toward her head and Gypsy again found herself on the defensive. Retreating backward quickly, she lost her footing and fell on her butt. She rolled to her left and scrambled to her feet just as Tye’s boot would have crushed her skull.

  He smiled with dirty, broken teeth. “Why do they send a little girl to do a man’s business? Surrender and I will show you mercy.” He was closing on her again when he stopped. His watery, bloodshot eyes scanned past her to the bleachers. “Your pregnant sister is being carried out.”

  Even as she was turning to look, her subconscious told her not to. The blow came from her blind side and slammed into her chest so hard it knocked the breath from her lungs. Gypsy went airborne then slid along the sand for several feet before coming to rest far enough from her sword. Tye was already running toward her faster than any man his size had the right to. Unable to inhale, she pushed her hands into the black sand and pushed backward, knowing her mistake would probably be a fatal one. Fear exploded in her mind and all she could think of was Kharon. Hoping he'd let her into his thoughts, she reached out with her emotions. Please Kharon. I'm scared. I don't want to die alone.

  Then, a few seconds before Tye was on her, images flashed in her mind. One was a camp site not far from the Empire. It was Kharon. In that split second he dove into her thoughts, wading through her fears and sorrows. He paused on her memories of making love to Falken. Then calm rippled through her head as he examined the nature of her feelings. Tye was only three feet away. He raised his sword for a death blow.

  A sudden rush of air filled her lungs and the crushing pain in her chest dulled enough for her to throw herself forward. Gypsy ducked under his strike, literally crawling between his legs to escape. It might have been comical had this not turned so terribly bad for her. Before he could turn around she vaulted onto the Draconian’s back.

  Still without a weapon, she pulled from her many lessons with Augustus von Goth and thrust her fingers into the two most painful pressure points on the back of Tye’s exposed neck. His knees buckled and down he went, like a felled tree. Gypsy hung on tight and pushed as hard as she could. She gripped the middle finger of her glove with her teeth and pulled it off. In the next move she drove her finger nail into another nerve at the base of his skull. Blood poured down over her hand, but she kept up the pressure.

  Tye let out a scream like nothing Gypsy had ever heard before. His whole body went rigid, but she still didn’t release her grip on him. The enormous fighter twitched and bucked so powerfully that Gypsy was finally dislodged by his violent seizure. He stumbled back a few steps; his eyes looked vacant. Then he collapsed and didn’t move again. Gypsy was stunned.

  The arena audience had fallen into a terrified silence.

  A few dark purple bruises formed around the base of Tye’s skull. Dread seeped into Gypsy’s stomach. Holy fuck! I think I killed him.

  Medics ran into the area. They did a quick exam as the referee walked forward. One of the medics shook his head and they called for a stretcher. The referee called the match in Gypsy’s favor.

  For a long time it was quiet, then someone started clapping. It was slow and deliberate but built in volume. Gypsy searched the crowd, finding the source. It was Augustus. His mother Tannyth stood up next to him and began to clap as well. They were standing in their reserved section surrounded by many of the lower nobles. Afraid to cross either of them, the other nobles stood and began clapping with them.

  The audience didn’t to know what to do. Their fear was tangible. They’d never seen anything like what she’d just done and were horrified. But in the end they also feared Augustus’ wrath, so they climbed to their feet sounding more cheers and applause. Energy built quickly. The audience yelled and shouted their support. Many of them stomped their feet and chanted her name. They had come to terms with the death that fast. She was a heroine again. But she didn’t feel like one. She should have given Tye a chance to yield, but she’d been too caught up in her personal rage. Her truth was she’d wanted to hurt him.

  Guards lifted the stretcher, carrying the dead man out. It was only then that she realized how easily and how often Augustus could have killed her during their training sessions. He was far too skilled to kill her accidentally, but he was unpredictable enough to have done it on purpose.

  Gypsy walked across the sand to retrieve her sword. She searched the crowd again, finding the two faces she’d dreaded seeing the most: her mother, Harlan, and father, Gavin. They remained seated in a sea of shouting, standing well-wishers, their gaze never wavering from her. They were also the only two people not clapping.

  Chapter 5

  Bethara unlocked the heavy front door to Dragon Theron’s apartment. “Hello?”

  She tugged on the big iron handle, entered, and closed it behind her, intentionally letting it hit with a loud bang. As usual the only light in the whole place was what shone in through the windows. The furnishings were sparse, but there were certainly plenty of light fixtures.

  “I've brought you some food and your medication.” When he still didn't answer she went ahead and removed the small, black snap-closure pouch from her shoulder bag and placed it on the round wooden table next to the kitchen. Moving into the kitchen she pulled out a package of sliced meat and portioned some out onto a clean plate from his cupboard. The rest she resealed and put in the cooling unit. What if he's not here? Don't be ridiculous. Where the hell would he go?

  “Dragon?” she called out louder.

  Dragon emerged from the bedroom and trotted down the few steps into the den. He was shirtless, which gave him a wanton, sexual vibe. He was a tall, muscular male, like his older brother, General Gavin Theron, and equally as attractive. But Dragon’s looks definitely led off in a more sinister direction. She was pleased that he was looking healthier and putting on more muscle since she’d met him over four months ago.

  When he had first shown up at the medical clinic during the Serillian Fever outbreak, Bethara, like everyone else, had been terrified of him. His eyes, wild with madness, were an impossible bright green
with flecks of dull gold in them. He was gaunt and maniacal with sunken cheeks and large dark circles enshrouding his eyes. The mismatched garb he wore included pieces of an old uniform that hung on him like rags. Many of his nails were long, dirty, and broken, while others had been chewed or torn down to bloody nubs.

  With her brother, Trajan, being a bounty hunter, Bethara had met her share of strange characters, but she'd never encountered anyone or anything like Dragon. He was the stuff old mothers frightened their children with. Although he'd never harmed her or even said an unkind word, she was ashamed to admit that he was a monster that sickened her. Even after all the time she'd spent with him, he could still raise the hairs on the back of her neck. She had always considered herself a nice, open-minded woman, but the fact remained that Dragon scared the life out of her.

  As a favor, Doctor Harlan Theron had asked her to care for him. There was nothing she wouldn't do for Harlan, especially after her husband, General Theron, had convinced Megolyth to release her from his harem. She didn’t really care for the General though. He often treated her like an idiot servant or an annoying child. It didn’t, however, take her long to realize he treated everyone with the same rudeness. Well, everyone but his wife, and even with her he pushed those boundaries.

  Fortunately, the medication Dragon received brought about an amazing change. Bethara thought it might not be so bad caring for this deranged male as long as he kept getting better. To everyone’s surprise but Harlan’s, the longer he was on the medication, the more normal he became. Well maybe not “normal” normal, but definitely more manageable.

  The change in him had started slowly. At first he ignored her and any attempts she made to assist him. Then he began to let her do some little things. The first of which was to cut and clean his nails. They were filthy, with some so long they curled under like some kind of wild animal's claws. Gross. Another night not too long after that, he agreed to let her give him a bath. Previously his idea of a bath was to stand under a cold shower...no soap, no scrubbing. There was so much old dirt and grime on him she had to drain and refill the tub three times. During her scrubbing assault he had been sedate. He might have even enjoyed it.

  Bethara was glad his life was getting better, especially after Harlan had chronicled his sad history. But one thing did puzzle her more than it should have: no matter how many times she interacted or touched him while he was naked, he never seemed to be physically aroused by her. She supposed she should be glad for it. It only struck her as odd because she had been fending off advances from all types of males her entire life. Knowing her looks were considered exotic by many, she'd always considered them more of a curse than an asset. For the first time in her life she was acquainted with a male who didn't appear to have the solitary mission of trying to sleep with her. It both comforted and confused her.

  As usual, Dragon avoided eye contact. Looking down at the plate of meat hungrily, he took a seat at the table. There was always a shy and self-conscious element hovering about when he was near her. Although she might have been put off by it in most males, it was kind of endearing in him. It was really the only thing she found unthreatening.

  Bethara grabbed the water pitcher off of the metal countertop and poured him a mug of fresh water. Then she sat across from him. Without a word she immediately went to work preparing his injection. Still eating, he offered his bare arm and waited. Even though Bethara had done this over a hundred times, her hands still trembled a bit when she injected him. After all, she wasn't a nurse or even a medic. Gently, she pierced his skin with the needle and pushed the plunger. He kept eating as though she weren't there.

  She put the empty glass syringe back in the medical kit, slipping it under the flap and back into her shoulder bag. “I don’t know if I will be able to come back by tonight. I have a few things to do for my parents. I've brought you plenty of food so you can make yourself something to eat later.”

  He wolfed down a few more bites, not bothering to chew. His attention stayed on his lunch. “Don’t worry about me.”

  Even though she was done, Bethara stayed seated. She never left while he was eating. It seemed rude, like he was a pet she was caring for instead of a person. He never spoke much, but she knew he must be lonely. No one came to see him but her and Harlan. He didn't have a job or friends and thus he really didn't have any place to go. Harlan was financially caring for him. She gave him some money in case he wanted to go out and eat, or to a brothel. Bethara doubted he was that confident.

  She rubbed her sweaty palms on her pant legs. “I heard some news about your father.”

  Dragon didn’t look up while stuffing another strip of meat into his mouth, “Oh really? Did you hear he was dead?”

  “No.”

  “That is unfortunate.”

  She frowned. “Well he has recovered enough to return home. The Serillian Fever really took a toll and—”

  Dragon looked up. His green eyes sliced right through her. “What? You mean he's been here the whole time? Why the fuck would Harlan help him?”

  Bethara blinked. His tense posture and aggressive demeanor was starting to scare her. “From what I've come to understand, Harlan offered to try and cure his Fever in exchange for your freedom. Your father agreed.”

  He leaned his head back, stared at the ceiling, and shook it, smiling. “I can't believe she made a deal with him. Harlan should've known better. That demon will never keep his word. When are they releasing him?”

  Bethara was taken aback for a moment. For someone who hated his father so much he sure seemed interested in this news. She couldn't understand his distress.

  “This afternoon I think.”

  He stood, almost knocking the table over, his meal now forgotten. “I need to ride out to his castle.”

  “What? Why? I...I don't understand. What’s wrong?”

  The intensity of his look faded, but she knew he was forcing himself to calm down for her benefit. Despite her fear and revulsion toward Dragon, she knew him better than anyone. He was trying to act casual, but she wasn't fooled.

  “I need to pick up some things before he gets home,” he said. “I'll be in and out quickly. We need to hurry. I don’t want to run into him.”

  “I don’t know, Dragon, that’s a long ride. I already told you I have some stuff I have to do tonight. If you have belongings there, why not just ask him for them? Besides, what could possibly be so important that you can't just buy more? I'm sure Harlan would help you purchase more clothes, weapons, and a mount and—”

  “No, I need your hyperia. I’ll go without you if necessary and return your mount when I'm finished. You probably shouldn't come anyway. It's not safe.”

  Bethara stood up. Although she was grateful for his concern about her welfare, there was no way he was riding off to Titan's lair alone. She didn't know the entire history, but she knew that Harlan would be very upset if Dragon went back to his father's castle.

  Squaring her shoulders, she stood rigid for what was to be an inevitable confrontation. “Oh no you don’t. Harlan was very specific. If you go anywhere, I am to go with you. So if you are concerned with my well-being, as you claim, then I suggest you not go.”

  Dragon moved up very close. The tension radiating from him frightened her even more. He gripped both her wrists tightly then let his hands slide down over hers so she couldn’t’t retreat. The warmth of his hands stunned her. All of their previous contact had been within the confines of her duty to his care. Never once had he touched her. Looking down at his hands curiously, the sudden sound of his voice broke her gaze from them.

  “Bethara, I have to go now. I don’t expect you to understand and I don't have time to argue. You can either come with me, or I’ll just take your mount without your consent.”

  Now she was pissed. She had to go with him knowing they weren’t going to make it back on time for her to meet with her parents. What could she do? How do you argue with a crazy person?

  “Very well, Dragon. At least do me the
courtesy of waiting a moment so I can get a message to my parents,” she said, allowing herself to sound more annoyed with him than ever before.

  She followed him outside and shut the door. There she prepared a short note. Thankfully when she looked up she saw a messenger riding down the street and waved him over.

  Dragon was already mounted, waiting. Before she even had time to properly pay for the message delivery, he trotted over and pulled her up behind him. The hyperia hissed and pranced as he reined it around. Leaning down, she tossed the coins at the messenger and gave him an apologetic smile. Then they were off at a full gallop.

  * * * *

  A few hours later they had crossed into the dead-lands, arriving just prior to the twin suns setting. Bethara was exhausted but didn’t bother to complain. It wouldn’t have done any good. She was unlikely to find any mercy in Dragon’s hardened features.

  Even with a fading trace of daylight, their destination was a dark, dismal place. Titan’s castle was large and black with several tall spires that stood backlit by the dimming sky. The structure rested on a large flat of land encircled by a bottomless chasm. The only access was a narrow, arched land bridge with no walls or railings.

  I am going to end up dead. I should have just let him come alone.

  This was by far the second dumbest choice she had ever made, the first being when she innocently flirted with the Emperor at a party. That had cost her two years of her life as his captive. If it hadn't been for General Theron and his wife, she had no doubt that she would still be lingering there waiting for him to lose interest and cast her out to a brothel. As much as she loathed her current situation, it was certainly much better than her previous one. At least now she had her freedom and could see her family. The General had even negotiated with the Emperor to place her under her father's protection so no slimy males could lay claim to her. No matter how inconvenient and tiring this was, she was acutely aware that it could always be worse.

  Some degree of caution would have been warranted in such a treacherous place, but not for Dragon. Obviously he was very familiar with these surroundings. Her hyperia twitched nervously as it pranced up the steps leading to the front doors. Dragon dismounted, flung the doors inward, and confidently strode inside.