The Lost Siren: Rise of the Drakens Book 1, Raven Storm [surface ebook reader txt] 📗

Kieran dashed out of the room, dodging Benedict’s claws and fangs. I was quickly losing my battle with consciousness, but did register the bed dipping next to me, and a pair of strong arms wrapping around my chest.

“I still hate you,” he murmured. I drifted off and slept the entire night through.

FIFTEEN

Benedict was gone before I woke the next morning, though it was probably for the best. I had hoped maybe to get a moment to speak with him, but I knew it was unlikely. He clearly was still furious over Bair; not that I blamed him.

As I ate breakfast next to a watchful Ronan, I realized that the only way to get Benedict to trust me would be to prove myself in some way to him. What good was having important information if no one would believe you? I had to come up with a plan.

“Ronan? Could you get D’Arcy for me?”

His head shot up, pleased to be able to do something for me, but unhappy about my choice of draken.

“I suppose. Why?”

Honestly was the best policy, right?

“I need to talk to him about Benedict.” Ronan’s face went stony, but he huffed and walked through the stone passageway. I finished up my breakfast in relative silence, happy to finally have what I felt was a normal appetite. I finished my eggs, a potato, and a few slices of toast before Ronan returned, D’Arcy in tow.

“Is it alright if this is a private conversation?”

Ronan looked hurt for only a fraction of a second before he wiped it away.

“Of course.”

He left through the still opened passage, and D’Arcy imperiously sat himself on the best chair in the room. He helped himself to a cup of tea and crossed his legs. Only after he had taken a few sips did he finally turn his gaze to me. He wore a fur pelt that covered his shoulders, and to my disgust I saw the stuffed lykos head on his back. He was wearing this on purpose. His eyes challenged me, daring me to say something. I looked away.

“A private word with Wren. To what do I owe the honor?”

I tapped my fingers against the armrest of my chair, eyes narrowing.

“I’d like you to start the Games again. Specifically, something that tests loyalty.” D’Arcy’s face brightened in interest.

“May I ask why—"

“You may not,” I cut in, “besides, what is wrong with me making sure the king’s subjects are completely loyal?”

D’Arcy’s entire demeanor changed to one of extreme caution. It would have been humorous had the situation not been so serious. I nonchalantly picked up another sugar cube and added it to my tea, stirring vigorously. He shifted and opened his mouth.

“I can assure you all drakens have the utmost loyalty to our king, unlike a few humans I know.”

I smiled, but it was a brittle and dangerous thing.

“Then arranging such a challenge will be of no trouble to you. If I die during it, all the better, right?”

D’Arcy sat back in his chair, considering me in a new light.

“You plan to compete? Benedict may hate you, but he still won’t let you die. Draken instincts are so utterly predictable at times. Going through the trouble of making it possible would be dreadfully difficult.”

“But for my death you’d do it, wouldn’t you?”

I kept my face calm, but my palms began to sweat. His eyes were calculating.

“And what could you do for me in the meantime? If I go to such trouble, I want it to be worth my investment.”

His finger trailed lasciviously around the edge of his teacup; his eyes boring into mine. His voice was a dark whisper in the air.

“I think you know what I’d like.”

I forced myself to relax, as if I were considering it. He smirked, so different from Benedict’s that I felt ill. Benedict’s smirk was the confidence of a leader, whereas D’Arcy’s was simply arrogant. He had no idea what I was planning.

“I know. How about you simply come when I call, like the pet you are,” he replied, unbothered. I caught the greedy glint in his eyes and swallowed heavily. Every instinct inside of me screamed, but I needed him.

“Fine.”

I stood, letting him know our meeting was over.

“The task will be tomorrow then?

He held up one finger, shaking it delicately at me.

“And ruin my fun before it’s begun? I think not.”

D’Arcy rose from his chair, his eyes running up and down the length of my body. I made sure to wear one of the sheer dresses today, making sure only the barest essentials were covered beneath the flimsy gauze. I wasn’t proud of it, but I would do what was needed. He found what he was looking for, a cruel grinning tweaking the corners of his mouth.

“Three days.”

I turned to dismiss him, but he was quicker. One hand shot up and grabbed my jaw in a vice grip, forcing my face to his. I tried to relax, or at the very least not fight him. It was difficult; images of Bair bleeding out flashing before my eyes. He pulled my bottom lip with his teeth, his fangs too close for comfort. He drew away quickly as someone growled from behind me.

“Am I interrupting?”

I went white as Benedict’s frame filled the passageway. D’Arcy beamed at him, and I wanted to smack the smirk from his face.

D’Arcy gave a mild bow. “Not at all. Just negotiating for the next round of the Games.”

He dropped me and strode past Benedict as though he were the king. Benedict slammed the passageway shut behind him. I looked away as we stood in front of each other, the tension thick and heavy.

“Kieran guilted me into spending time with you, but I see it appears to be unnecessary. Therefore, this will be quick, and I certainly won’t enjoy it. My kingdom won’t suffer because I’m not physically at my best.”

“What—”

He