C. Bryant - Broken

Come home, my son. We will find another way.

Octavion sighed. He knew his father would plead with him to return, so he closed his mind, keeping his thoughts to himself.

“Kira!” he roared to the heavens. But the sinking feeling in his chest told him it was no use. The many prayers to his gods had gone unanswered.

Grasping the dagger with both hands, Octavion brought the tip of the blade to the middle of his chest, the rapid beat of his heart vibrating through to his fingertips. He had no hope of a cure for Kira. No magic to bring her life. But in Lor, they could be together-their spirits would live in peace for eternity. If he died first, he could be there to welcome her, to hold her in his arms. To love her. She would never be alone again. Never feel the pain of abandonment.

He threw back his head, the two crescent moons barely visible between the gaps in the trees above him. Every fiber of his soul rejected his intention to take his own life, but he was numb and felt nothing for himself or those he would leave behind. Putting more pressure to the blade, he closed his eyes and uttered one last plea to his god.

“Zi’ah, throw open Thy gates. . and receive my spirit.”

Strong hands clamped around Octavion’s wrists, pulling the knife away from his chest, but not before the tip tore through his tunic, pierced his flesh and drew blood. He opened his eyes to find Luka crouched in front of him.

“You are not strong enough to fight me.” Octavion pulled against the knife, twisting it so the tip grazed his cousin’s neck. “How did you find me?”

“I have orders from your father not to let you out of my sight.” Luka leaned away from the blade, releasing his hold. “And you are a fool if you think this will get you through the gates of Lor. Zi’ah will cast you out. Is that what you want, to spend eternity with the evil one?”

“Why is it your concern? Xantara has been without its prince for years. They will not mourn my death.”

“Do you not see the pain in your father’s eyes? And what of Lydia?”

Octavion had lowered his hands when Luka released them, but now brought the blade back to Luka’s throat. “You dare utter her name. My father will have your head for treason.”

“We are in the B’Kari forest. Who would venture within its depths to hear your sister’s name?”

A deep growl filtered through the trees-and then another. Both men cautiously turned their focus to the dark shadows surrounding them. Octavion peered over Luka’s shoulder as a single set of red eyes appeared. Another growl brought several more. Jraks! I count five , he told Luka, being careful not to move or alert the creatures. The vicious rodents were no bigger than a small dog, but they hunted in packs-with their speed and rows of razor sharp teeth they were more like land-bound piranhas. They could take a large man down to the bone before his heart knew not to beat.

Four more at your back . Luka inched his hands up to grasp Octavion by the shoulders. Pull the knife away from my neck slowly and clear your mind, cousin. One false move and we will both be their meal.

Lowering the blade, Octavion breathed deeply. On three. One. . two. . three. The next moment seemed to last an eternity as Luka’s attempt to leap back to Xantara drew the entire pack to their wake. They managed to shake all but one of the deadly little creatures before landing hard on the cobblestone floor of the castle courtyard. The surviving Jrak latched onto Luka’s boot before snapping its jaws at his leg. Octavion grabbed the back of the animal’s neck and slit its throat, but not before its teeth broke through Luka’s leather pants.

“Did he bite you?” Octavion asked, tossing the beast aside.

Luka stuck his little finger through one of the holes, letting the tip of it wiggle out another. “No, but he ruined my favorite trousers.” He stood, brushed off his seat and gave a full body shiver. “I hate Jraks.”

Octavion still knelt on the ground when a commotion erupted behind him. He clumsily stood-still not completely recovered from Darion’s magic-and turned to see two men run across the drawbridge. They stopped when their eyes locked on Octavion.

“Forgive us, Prince Octavion,” the younger of the two said. They both bowed. “We have captured an unfamiliar Royal trying to enter at the main gate. He insists on seeing you, but will not give his name or hint at which kingdom he represents.”

Luka straightened. “One of Shandira's spies,” he muttered under his breath. “Where is he?”

“In the guard station, near the gate,” the other man said.

Before the last word rolled off the man’s tongue, Octavion stood in front of the small stone structure. Two blazing torches flanked the doorway, giving enough light to see the man's face clearly. Dark skin. Bald. The fine lines of an intricate tattoo snaked around his neck.

Octavion yanked the Royal through the doorway and shoved him against the exterior wall. He wrapped his fingers around the stranger’s neck. “Who sent you?” Octavion’s transformation progressed rapidly with the thought of one of Shandira's men getting this close.

Luka appeared an instant later, clamping a hand onto Octavion’s shoulder. “If you kill him, we will never know who sent him or why he is here.”

Pushing a thumb even deeper into the man’s windpipe, Octavion gave no heed to his cousin’s words. “Who sent you?”

With his hand still on Octavion’s shoulder, Luka pulled him back with a jerk, breaking his concentration. Octavion turned to meet his eyes.

“Do not kill him,” Luka said.

Octavion loosened his grip enough to allow the Royal to breathe. “Did Shandira send you?”

The stranger cleared his raspy throat. “I have orders to speak only to the prince of Xantara.”

“And what message would you have for the prince?” Octavion asked.

The man answered with a lift of his brow and a smirk, then gestured to where Octavion still held his neck.

He released the man from his grasp. “I am Prince Octavion. What is your message?”

The man pushed away from the wall, adjusted the collar of his tunic and cleared his throat again. “I am Rowin, nephew to King Ramla. He sends his apologies for the way you were treated at the gate. He had not yet sent word of your arrival.”

Octavion took a step back, crossing his arms over his chest. “And will he see me now?”

“At first light-”

Octavion dropped his arms to his sides and curled his fingers into fists. “It will be too late. She will surely die before then.”

“Which explains my presence. I am to bring you and your female back to Panthera. Our physicians will examine her while others prepare you to see the king.”

Octavion stiffened. “What do you mean prepare me?”

Rowin looked Octavion up and down, then let out a huff of air. “Surely you do not expect the mighty king of Panthera to grant you audience wearing that . And you will have to be cleansed as well. After all, you have recently returned from another world.”

Luka chuckled, earning a glare from his cousin.

“Fine,” Octavion said after turning back to face Rowin. “I will do whatever it takes.”

Within the hour, Ussay had gathered fresh clothing and whatever else she and Kira would need for the trip. Even though Rowin insisted Panthera could provide a complete staff of maids to see to Kira's every need, Octavion wanted Ussay to accompany them. He knew there would be times when he couldn't be with her-when she needed dressed or bathed-and he didn't want to leave her alone with strangers. Luka agreed to stay behind in case King Belesgar needed help with Lydia-though her condition remained unchanged.