Flame (Fireborn) (35 page)

His whole body tightens
with her words. Images of what he's done enter his head like angry
bees. Pictures of death flash like a never-ending story.

One in particular
stands out.

A battlefield. A girl,
starved and dying. He'd been the one to find her. The King had deemed
her death as his prize. Young and foolish, he did what he was told.
He destroyed her with his hands until her body was unrecognizable.
Until her body was as flat as the field they stood on, covered with
human debris and dirt.

He pushes the memory
out of his mind, clenching his teeth to do it.

"It's all the
people know," he answers softly. "It's what we've done for
thousands of years."

It's what he's done for
a century which is why he, more than anyone, knows what they're
risking if Malachi found out what he and Lenora were really doing.
He's delivered revenge in the name of the King many times. It always
ends with death.

But that's the easy
part.

It's what happens
before
death that scares people. Torture. Pain. Annihilation
of everyone you love.

He risks it all. Even
now, he refuses to think about failure. Too much is at stake. Earth.
The universe.

Life.

"It's hard to
change something when you've never seen anything different."

"
We
are.
We're
changing it, Rhys," Lenora points out softly.

He allows a trace of a
smile to touch his lips. "Yes."

"Truitt will
arrive tomorrow. He's been able to round up more men," she
informs excitedly.

He's alarmed. Damn
Truitt and his hot- headed ways. Did he want them all to get killed?
"How does he know we can trust these men?"

"They've all been
wronged by the King. They want their revenge."

He shakes his head.
"This isn't about revenge. It's about what's right and wrong."

"I know."

He's sure she
does
know. He's just not sure about the rest.

"Truitt says they
can be trusted."

He doesn't look at
Lenora. "Trust is a fickle thing."

Lenora bites her lips.

He sighs, standing up.
He gives her his back, rubbing his temples. He isn't ready for this.
Even after a hundred years he's still not ready for this. Dethrone
the King? There was a time when he couldn't have even imagined it,
and now it's in every move they plan and every word they speak.

Treason.

"There's so much
at stake," he says, "Truitt can't just--"

A loud knock interrupts
them. They're motionless.

"Sir. The orders
have changed." The voice is muffled, but he can hear the urgency
in it. "We leave tonight."

Lenora stiffens. "No,"
she whispers, shocked.

His heart starts to
race, accelerating with each passing second.

"Sir?"

"Yes," he
calls out harshly. "Get my uniform ready."

Lenora's eyes are wide.
"You aren't thinking of really--"

"I need to buy us
more time," he interrupts. "They can't suspect me. We need
more time."

His hands clench at his
sides, trying to control the tension and anger coursing through his
body. Kenna's face tumbles into his mind, followed by every creature
that's ever come before him. Their lives depended on him.

Everything depends on
him.

Suddenly, he can't take
it anymore. He turns around swinging, and punches the wall. He
doesn't stop when he goes through the plaster and into the metal
beams. His fists leaves a dent. The pain isn't enough, but the sounds
are loud enough to drown out his pounding heart. There's silence when
he's done.

Looking at his raw
hands, he's shocked.
A warrior is never driven by his emotions.
Malachi's words drift into his mind, a chant from his childhood.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."
Her voice is soft. "I've seen worse."

Silence.

"I told myself I'd
never be like my father," he confesses quietly.

"You're not."

He thinks about every
evil thing he's done.
I'm not so sure.

When he doesn't
respond, Lenora says, "I will pray."

A muscle ticks in his
jaw. "It's too late for that."

The war is beginning.

Saguinox Encampment

He wished she hated
him.

It'd be so much easier
if she could.

Most people would hate
someone who imprisons them, and leaves them at the mercy of an alien
race. Deep in his heart, he always knew she wouldn't.

He pulls the crystal
shard from his skin, winching when blood rushes out. Carelessly, he
flips the white stone onto a table. It makes a loud clinking sound as
it lands. If Malachi ever saw him do that, Malachi would probably
stab him with it. Malachi "honored" him with a piece of the
precious crystal many years ago. Its powers allow them to communicate
with each other in their minds. It's especially useful during
battles, and it's most certainly meant to be taken care of, not
thrown carelessly about.

It's also not meant to
be used with the enemy. A picture of Kenna flickers in his mind, and
his chest tightens. The consequences be damned. It was all worth it.

The pain's more
excruciating than usual this time, and he grips his arm, trying to
numb the sensations. Somehow, that only makes it worse and he falls
back on the bed, shutting his eyes. Even with them closed, he can
still visualize the scabs and wound marks littering both his arms.
The crystal is a vault of energy, and with the right magic it can be
used for many things.

But, like everything,
its energy comes at a price.

The marks on his arms
won't heal for a while. And even when they do, there will always be
reminders on his skin, and especially on his soul.

There's a light knock
on the door, and he knows who it is even before it opens. He lets her
knock until she's finished.

"Yes, Lenora?"

Her big eyes peek over
the door. "How'd you know it was me?"

He sighs. "Most
people don't knock on a door to the rhythm of 'Mary had a little
lamb'."

She beams. "It's
the first song I learned in English!" She closes the door behind
her. The other Saguinox think they're mating, and he knows it hurts
her when the other warriors stare at her with a smirk. She accepts
this, though. It's safer if they think she belongs to him.

He sees her eyes go to
the bloody gash on his arm. She bites her lips in worry. "Maybe
you shouldn't communicate with her so much, Rhys," she advises
softly. "The crystal's going to kill you."

He can't tell her he
doesn't really have a choice. Kenna calls to him. "I'm fine,"
he answers, sounding more tired than he wants to.

He doesn't want to
admit it, but Lenora's right. He shouldn't be communicating with
Kenna. She'd said he was "hot and cold". She was right.
Everytime he felt a pull pushing them closer, reality would seep in,
and he'd be reminded of what he was, what he'd done, and what he
needed to do still. He should've never gotten close. He didn't have
to talk to Kenna to kidnap her. That hadn't been the plan. It had
always been Lenora who was supposed to get close; Lenora who had such
a fascination with all things human. Somehow he'd ended up with a
locker near hers, and the rest as they say, is history.

Rhys's eyes are closed,
but he knows Lenora's looking at him. She has a soft heart, and is
the biggest humanist he's ever met. She loves everything about
humans. She would even risk her life for what she believes in. That's
why she's one of the few he trusts.

"Maybe we
shouldn't have left her in there," Lenora begins again, worried.

"It's the only way
to keep her safe. You know what's happening right now."

"Maybe if we just
told her--"

"No. I already
told you what the King plans to do. She won't be able to escape Armin
again. You know I had to poison his powers to make him weaker. The
King is suspicious and will have Touchers on us next time."
Realizing how he sounds, he softens his tone. "She won't escape
again. Armin's too powerful, and now he feels like he's got something
to prove."

There's a long moment
of silence. "It's just ironic that to protect her we have to put
her right in the center of it all."

"It's been done
before," he answers, gritting his teeth. The cut from the
crystal is burning and aching at the same time. "They won't
think to look for her there."

"Were you able to
talk to them?" she asks. She doesn't say their name. She doesn't
need to.

"Yes. I've leaked
the codes and a blueprint of the building to them. They've already
sent someone in. He's in the compound as we speak."

"I wish we could
go get her. She probably hates us," Lenora says, almost
tearfully.

"Not quite."

"Maybe not
you
,"
she accuses. "But definitely me."

"Lenora," he
comforts her for the thousandth time. "One person not liking you
in the grand scheme of things isn't so bad."

"I know, but I
really liked her. I really like them
all
. I wish… I wish I
hadn't been born Saguinox," she confesses softly. "I hate
the violence, the way we kill people. The way we conquer."

His whole body tightens
with her words. Images of what he's done enter his head like angry
bees. Pictures of death flash like a never-ending story.

One in particular
stands out.

A battlefield. A girl,
starved and dying. He'd been the one to find her. The King had deemed
her death as his prize. Young and foolish, he did what he was told.
He destroyed her with his hands until her body was unrecognizable.
Until her body was as flat as the field they stood on, covered with
human debris and dirt.

He pushes the memory
out of his mind, clenching his teeth to do it.

"It's all the
people know," he answers softly. "It's what we've done for
thousands of years."

It's what he's done for
a century which is why he, more than anyone, knows what they're
risking if Malachi found out what he and Lenora were really doing.
He's delivered revenge in the name of the King many times. It always
ends with death.

But that's the easy
part.

It's what happens
before
death that scares people. Torture. Pain. Annihilation
of everyone you love.

He risks it all. Even
now, he refuses to think about failure. Too much is at stake. Earth.
The universe.

Life.

"It's hard to
change something when you've never seen anything different."

"
We
are.
We're
changing it, Rhys," Lenora points out softly.

He allows a trace of a
smile to touch his lips. "Yes."

"Truitt will
arrive tomorrow. He's been able to round up more men," she
informs excitedly.

He's alarmed. Damn
Truitt and his hot- headed ways. Did he want them all to get killed?
"How does he know we can trust these men?"

"They've all been
wronged by the King. They want their revenge."

He shakes his head.
"This isn't about revenge. It's about what's right and wrong."

"I know."

He's sure she
does
know. He's just not sure about the rest.

"Truitt says they
can be trusted."

He doesn't look at
Lenora. "Trust is a fickle thing."

Lenora bites her lips.

He sighs, standing up.
He gives her his back, rubbing his temples. He isn't ready for this.
Even after a hundred years he's still not ready for this. Dethrone
the King? There was a time when he couldn't have even imagined it,
and now it's in every move they plan and every word they speak.

Treason.

"There's so much
at stake," he says, "Truitt can't just--"

A loud knock interrupts
them. They're motionless.

"Sir. The orders
have changed." The voice is muffled, but he can hear the urgency
in it. "We leave tonight."

Lenora stiffens. "No,"
she whispers, shocked.

His heart starts to
race, accelerating with each passing second.

"Sir?"

"Yes," he
calls out harshly. "Get my uniform ready."

Lenora's eyes are wide.
"You aren't thinking of really--"

"I need to buy us
more time," he interrupts. "They can't suspect me. We need
more time."

His hands clench at his
sides, trying to control the tension and anger coursing through his
body. Kenna's face tumbles into his mind, followed by every creature
that's ever come before him. Their lives depended on him.

Everything depends on
him.

Suddenly, he can't take
it anymore. He turns around swinging, and punches the wall. He
doesn't stop when he goes through the plaster and into the metal
beams. His fists leaves a dent. The pain isn't enough, but the sounds
are loud enough to drown out his pounding heart. There's silence when
he's done.

Looking at his raw
hands, he's shocked.
A warrior is never driven by his emotions.
Malachi's words drift into his mind, a chant from his childhood.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."
Her voice is soft. "I've seen worse."

Silence.

"I told myself I'd
never be like my father," he confesses quietly.

"You're not."

He thinks about every
evil thing he's done.
I'm not so sure.

When he doesn't
respond, Lenora says, "I will pray."

A muscle ticks in his
jaw. "It's too late for that."

The war is beginning.

The door slams, jolting
me awake. I jerk, and my head hits the cement wall behind me. "Ow!"

My eyes are groggy, and
I blink a few times before I can see the shadow standing in front of
me. Instantly, I know he's a guard. His eyes glow fiercely in the dim
light. I shrink back, using my dress to cover as much of my body as I
can. He stares at me for a moment, and I can't see what he's
thinking. Inside my chest, my heart is hammering with fear. Swiftly,
he closes the door behind him, and when I hear a soft
click
I
let out a shriek.