Eternal Darkness (A Novel of the Amagarians Book 1) (4 page)

“Denied.” Came the voice silky
with menace.

“Please…I am the Princess of Boreas. For your aid, I will honor you with several jars of my kingdom’s elixir,”
she countered.

“We will depart,” one of the assassins interjected. “But the princess leaves with us. We are Grand Generals from the great empire of Mevia sent to retrieve her. If you interfere, you risk death. If you think to offer her sanctuary against our emperor’s order, both of you will die. Is that understood, Darkan?”

The suddenness of their decision to kill her was so startling it rendered her speechless. They must have thought the Darkan would agree with her bargain, but why would Mevia murder her if they could not
take her?

A chuckle of amusement echoed from the dark before she was buffeted with feelings of such blood thirstiness she trembled. Without thinking, she expelled her energy to light up her surroundings to see where such a
chakra
came from.

She stared at the Darkan mesmerized, fascinated, yet repulsed. She was within touching distance of the most primal male she’d ever seen. He was darkness and sensuality. Black
chakra
pulsated around him with menace. He stood less than ten feet away and observed her with an awareness that had her instincts screaming at her
to run.

Her heart pounded, drowning out sounds, and the hand that held her dagger shook. His macabre beauty scared her—obsidian eyes, a sensual mouth that hinted at cruelty, the palest of skin, a frame lithe yet coiled with power. The raw carnality he reeked of caused something hot and unwelcomed to squeeze low in her stomach,
startling her.

It had the sharper taste of desire she’d normally felt
from others.

She clenched her fist tightly around her dagger, trying to hold his
penetrating gaze.

“Kill them.” A harsh order from one of
the Mevians.

They rushed in deadly unison at them and screamed out a sound of destruction. Her world tilted as she was moved with a speed that left
her dizzy.

The Darkan had actually lifted and moved with her, and she stood behind the Mevians. Their sound wave splintered trees in its path and rendered them to chips. If she had been caught in the attack, the pressure from the waves would have caused her to explode into
bloody pieces.

The assassins spun, and she blinked. Decapitated heads slid from lifeless bodies. Fear cramped her stomach. She’d not seen the Darkan kill them. Saieke sucked in a harsh breath as he appeared before her. An explosion of dread snaked through her, leaving her heart quivering and mouth dry. The light stood about two hundred feet behind her, but she would not
make it.

There was no cocooning darkness swirling around him anymore. Saieke did not know how it was possible, but she could not sense him at
all
. It seemed he had absolute control of his
chakra
. Her heart jerked, and her breath became shallow.
He had not responded to her offer. Instead, he killed the Mevians without hesitation. The blood drained from her face as he leaned in close to her, so their lips
almost brushed.

Cold chills of fear slithered through her as he calmly said, “
Bargain accepted.”

The Darkage
—kingdom of darkness
and shadows.

He was a barbarian, unkind, and certainly not deferential to her as the Princess of Boreas. Each step, every uneven gait, every stumble took Saieke closer to the heart of the Darkage with a man who had killed two people with an apparent total lack of remorse. Cold bit at her, and her fractured ribs ached. Healing had already started, but she felt every bruise made by the assassins. Every time it occurred to Saieke to draw on her mantle of royal arrogance and demand a carriage, the memory of the Darkan’s
chakra
acted as an effective deterrent. She consoled herself by remembering that the dark ones were reviled
by everyone.

Exhaustion and hunger pelted her, and not once did he query as to how she fared. The barbarian simply ordered her to follow. Saieke thought fleetingly about using the elixir around her neck, then dismissed the idea. She only needed food and rest. The healing elixir should only be used for
fatal wounds.

She had not thought her bargain through, reacting with instinct. She knew the power of her kingdom’s healing elixir and had offered it like a lifeline. But how would she even get the elixir to him? She promised jars, and she had no way honoring her promise unless she returned to her kingdom. She flinched from the thought. Her plans could not
be waylaid.

Had her Queen’s Blades escaped? She sent a swift prayer to the King of All that Kamu and Thyon lived. In their plans, they had prepared for the possibility of separation, but it was still hard
to accept.

Icy wind whistled, the thinness of her caftan offered her no protection. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders. After a few minutes of trudging faithfully behind the Darkan, her
chakra
glow petered, and Saieke was plunged into absolute blackness. Doubt jerked her to a stop.
Where in kings’ teeth
was he?

“I will go no more.” She made her voice firm. Saieke twitched as something brushed against
her face.

“You rescind
your bargain?”

His voice was so emotionless, Saieke shivered. “I do not, sir. You ordered me to follow. I do so without any knowledge if I travel to my death, imprisonment,
or torture.”

“You think us without honor? Did you not claim life for sanctuary?”
he growled.

She recoiled from the menace in the voice that whispered too close to her. “I meant no offense…I…” Fear tried to steal her thoughts. “Forgive me if I caused offense. I assure you it was unintentional. I am exhausted, hungry, and anxious about this situation. You have not shared any information as to where we travel,” she said with as much calm as she
could muster.

She regretted speaking. The silence pressed in on her, suffocating. She strained to see where he was. Saieke saw nothing. Worse, she heard nothing. The
insufferable barbarian.

“Say something, please,” she
whispered hoarsely.

***

Drac’s beast rumbled as another burst of fear leaped from the princess. He surmised it was the darkness. It could have that effect on the senses. He did not react as her hand caught his trousers and held on with a
tight grip.

It was imperative to alert Gidon of their bargain. When she uttered those words, something inside Drac had stilled. Their queen had died with hanging hopes that she would receive a swallow and it would heal her. And now, to be promised jars bordered on miraculous. It was a precious and valuable commodity the kingdom of Boreas possessed—the healing elixir. With it they had power, might, and a potent bargaining chip. It also made the kingdom susceptible to invasion in times
of war.

He had to capitalize on the opportunity her panicked offer presented. He did briefly wonder why she was being pursued by Mevia, and how it was that she was so far from home. He was not even sure if she was the Princess of Boreas, as he had never been to a court outside of his kingdom’s. They needed it established and an
oath drawn.

The only thing Drac was sure of was the immediacy with which she fascinated him. She was beautiful, but her scent intrigued him the most—wild wind with a hint of honey. He drank in her beauty, the arch of her neck as she strained to see him, and Drac felt the instinctive lunge again inside, and he tightened his gut against the rush
of feeling.

“Say something,” her gasp, husky with fear tugged at the beast buried
in him.

He shifted, and the princess stumbled into him and her breath hitched. It travelled through his body, a whisper in the dark, caressing against his skin like silk. He supposed he was not treating her like a princess. Gidon would roar in rage if she were to arrive in shambles. This was an opportunity to have a kingdom in their debt, and he would exploit it mercilessly to suit
their needs.

“It must be confirmed if you are the Princess of Boreas, and if you have authority to make such an
honor bargain.”

Her eyes widened, almost eclipsing her face. Drac tracked the tongue that darted out to wet her lips. His cock jerked in reaction, and he had to ruthlessly contain
a snarl.

“I am
the princess.”

Her voice shook with anxiety. There was nothing he could do about that, so Drac wasted no time offering soothing words. She slipped her hands into the hidden folds of her caftan and withdrew her armband. She held it up with a hand that trembled, before slipping it on to her right arm. It was a gold armband filled with precious gems and rubies with her insignia as the Princess. It signified her status and power, the intricate design showing she was the heir to
the throne.

Satisfaction settled in his gut. Possessing the elixir would give his people the opportunity to heal the crack in their psyche when their beasts took control. Gidon had always theorized how they could obtain one jar of the elixir. To now be promised several jars. A smile curved Drac’s lips at their fortune. It was long awaited. “I take you not to your death or torture, Princess, but to my king. If it is proven that you are the princess, you
are safe.”

He knew she could not see him in the dark, yet her eyes roamed his face as if she could. Her eyes were really the purest of blue—azure blended with sapphire, and the most enthralling he had ever seen. They narrowed and a hint of anger flavored
her
chakra
.

“And if your king determines I am not
the princess?”

He grunted, ignoring her question, then spun and
kept walking.

“And if your king determines I am not the princess?” her tone held
imperious command.

Drac smiled, pleased with the lessening of her fear. She stumbled again pressing into his back. He hissed at the feeling of her breasts. Her caftan contoured seamlessly to her body, and he could feel every sleek curve. Arousal stirred deep inside when she brushed against him again, and he could feel the outline of her nipples. He ruthlessly ignored her reaction and the whisper that slid against
his mind.

Take.
It taunted.

He would deliver her to Gidon, outline the terms of their bargain, and let him as the
Ricarkri
sort it out. Drac’s only need was to find the assassins of the fallen king. Drac glided around her and swung her in his arms, moving with speed to deliver her to
castle Kerberos.

***

Saieke’s gasp of fright broke off, the wind choking her breathing. She belatedly realized the Darkan held her in his arms, moving at a speed that defied comprehension. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly to prevent the dizziness from overcoming her. Her head spun and her empty stomach roiled. Interminable minutes passed before he came to a stop and she stumbled as he set
her down.

Saieke’s breath exploded on a hoarse gasp and it took precious seconds to gather her composure. She stood in a great hall of immense proportions. Dozens of great torches adorned the walls, lighting the castle. She twisted sharply and came face to face with her rescuer. Obsidian eyes, devoid of emotion, returned her regard unflinchingly, and Saieke felt as if she stared down the abyss of darkness. She sucked in an audible breath, and heat climbed her neck. He was so dark, yet pale. He was garbed in black trousers, silver undershirt and black waist coat. His hair, the color of midnight, was shorn close to his scalp, his skin so pale Saieke swore she could see a spidery network of veins, but it was his eyes that caused her heart to jerk in its erratic pattern—they gazed cold
and pitiless.

He stood lean and sleek with coiled muscles like the great cats in her courtyard. He should be beautiful, but impossible for him to be described so. The blades of his face were sharp, and there was a slant to his lips that screamed viciousness. The black mark that ran from his temple and curved down to stop at his cheekbone was in stark contrast against his
pale skin.

Predator.
No doubt existed in Saieke’s mind. She inhaled to steady her nerves and the pounding of her heart. For it was a war drum in her ears. He had to hear it with the reputed enhanced hearing of Darkans. She prayed that was a rumor. At the gentle clearing of a throat, she spun around and nearly fainted. In front of her stood another Darkan. Her heart rate doubled as trepidation sank in and
built steadily.

“Drac, report,” the
man commanded.

His name
was Drac
.

“Princess and heir to the Borean throne was pursued by the Mevia Empire into our territory, and she bargained
for sanctuary.”

“Bargained?” the newcomer silver eyes blazed as he asked
the question.

“Sanctuary for several jars of her kingdom’s elixir, and I accepted.” The inflection in her rescuer’s voice indicated
deep satisfaction.

Saieke schooled her expression as the Darkan stepped forward and executed a sharp bow. His eyes flicked to her armband and over her in a quick, but thorough, assessment. She hated the stab of dread his quick
appraisal wrought.

“Princess Saieke El Shyokara of Boreas, welcome to our kingdom,” he greeted. “I am Gidon Al Shra, King and
Ricarkri
of the Darkage.” Eyes the color of liquid mercury captured hers and the power that emanated from the king slapped
at her.

Saieke dipped into a curtsy, her stomach knotting in hard cramps of fear because he knew her name and title, enough to greet her, yet she had not known the Darkage had a king. “Thank you for your greetings and sanctuary, King Gidon Al Shra. My kingdom thanks you for
your generosity.”

She straightened in time to see a hard smile slash his lips. He would have felt her fear. At least she thought so. Rumors be damned. Her ignorance of their true nature increased her heart rate
in bounds.

“Follow me, Princess. We will see to your comfort and speak more on this bargain.” He walked away down the hall, no he undulated, grace and power rolled in
one package.

A soft sigh escaped her lips as she followed the king, refusing to look behind her to see if her rescuer followed. She was relieved that the king accorded her the honor befitting her rank. The stories she had grown up on had led her to believe Darkans were huge hulking beasts with black eyes and fangs, and they lived in caves and holes in
the ground.

The appearance of the castle also profoundly shocked her. Several torches illuminated the interior, throwing its beauty into stark relief. Its graceful arches and doorways were certainly impressive. Beautiful tapestries graced the stone walls, their colors magnificent, and the cloth rich and vibrant, unlike anything she had ever seen. A hulking sculpture of a three headed monster, without a doubt the sigil of the house, glared with malevolent intent. Despite that, the castle’s elegance and beauty
were undeniable.

Despite his apparent civilized appearance and accommodations, she was sure the king would not understand she had no current way of fulfilling her promise. Her mind hazed over from exhaustion. She needed a bath to remove the filth and grime from her battle, food, and possibly sleep, before she could even begin to work out a solution to her predicament. They entered an antechamber where the king gestured for her to sit, with her rescuer positioning himself at
the door.

“Now let’s iron out our bargain,” the
king said.

Kings’ teeth
, Saieke swore, so much for honoring her rank and first seeing to her comfort. “I…certainly.”

Shadows seemed to dance in the room, alive from the one great torch that blazed in the room. The chamber was quite large, with a raised dais, several chairs and a throne made from bones? A banquet lay in the center of the room filled with lemon tarts, fruited bread with cheese, roasted duck stuffed with almonds and apples, and ruby red liquid which she hoped was wine. Her nerves
needed fortifying.

“Be seated princess. Eat and drink
your fill.”

She sat in the great chair facing the entrance, burying all anxiety as she faced King Al Shra. Her stomach was knotted by too many nerves to eat now, but desperate to appear unflappable, she reached for a sweet and delicately bit into a lemon tart. Sweetness with a harsh tang of citrus burst over her tongue, and her stomach did an embarrassing rumble
of appreciation.

Her rescuer lounged at the door, his gaze tracing her lips and neck. Unbidden interest rushed through her, and the low tug in her womb had nothing to do with fear. She cleared her throat. “I thank you for your kindness King al Shra. My journey has been an exhausting one, and I welcome the respite.” She stared at him in what she hoped was a
steady fashion.