Born of Silence Read online

  The soldier closest to him cursed. "Are you sure?"

  "See for yourself. The blast left a huge hole in her. What a waste, too. We could have definitely had fun with her while we waited for payment."

  Unmitigated fury, agony, and grief tore through Darling's blackened soul.

  How could he ever face his mother and brother after this?

  How could he ever face himself?

  Why couldn't it have killed me, too?

  One of the soldiers kicked him in the ribs. "Stupid son of a whore! Damn you, for screwing this up." Aiming his blaster at Darling's head, he looked over to Clarion. "You want me to kill this one, too?"

  Snarling in anger, Clarion approached Darling. With the toe of his boot, he lifted Darling's face so that he could see his features. The moment he did, a wide smile curved his lips. "Oh no, Davon. This... this is much better than even the princess."

  "How so?"

  Clarion laughed again as he kicked Darling's head. "What we have here, gentlemen, is the lovely cock-sucking royal fag himself. Darling Cruel. Caronese heir to the throne and future governor of our worthless empire. We just hit the mother lode of good fortune." He clapped hands with Davon. "Get him on board before someone else sees him. He'll be worth ten times what the princess was."

  His heart broken by what he'd inadvertently set into motion, Darling had no choice except to lay there as they grabbed him and ruthlessly dragged him onto their ship.

  It would take at least four hours before the stun would wear off and he could move again, and tell them who he really was.

  If not longer. Until then, he was as helpless as an infant. Worse, he could hear, feel, and see everything they did to him. But he couldn't make a sound.

  Or make a single move to protect himself.

  It was just like being in the mental institutions all over again. One of the crueler regimens they'd used on him had been the paralytics that had kept him immobile and fully aware with elevated sensory drugs to heighten his senses while they "treated" him using various aversion therapies.

  Nausea swelled inside him as he remembered the weeks where the doctors had tortured him for his uncle, trying to make him docile and weak.

  Trying to break him.

  I can't do this again.

  I can't.

  Raw, unmitigated panic tore him apart. Another confinement like that would make him insane. It would.

  Determined to the core of his soul, he strained to move. To fight back. To do anything other than lay here as their victim.

  It was useless.

  He was completely at their "mercy." Goddamn me for being so fucking stupid...

  They dumped him in the cargo hold. Clarion and one of the others went to launch the small ship while the rest stayed in the back with him.

  Three more joined their group.

  A rebel on his right jerked his chin toward Darling. "Hey, Timmon, how much you think those boots are worth?"

  "About a year's pay from the looks of them." Timmon moved forward to snatch one off. "Oh yeah, that ain't silver on them. It's pladin and they're custom made. Anyone wear his size?" When he went to snatch the other one off, he hit the blade release in the heel and sliced open his hand.

  Cursing, he kicked Darling repeatedly in the ribs and face. "Bastard! What are you doing with an assassin's trick?"

  If Darling could move, he'd show him a lot more tricks than that. Including the one Nykyrian had taught him of snatching a human heart out of his target's chest before his target died.

  Another rebel came forward from the front of the ship to investigate him. He pulled his helmet off and Darling wished he could curse.

  It was Pip. A man whose life he'd saved just a few months back. Pip had been pinned down by Caronese troops after they'd made a medical drop to the free clinics his uncle had wanted closed because they'd refused to pay the exorbitant taxes he'd imposed on them.

  Darling still had the red mark on his side where he'd been shot while protecting Pip.

  Pip leaned down to jerk at the neck of his clothes. "Man, look at this. A fortune for his battlesuit, too." He backhanded Darling. "You rotten faggot. How many people starved to buy you that, huh?"

  None. He'd bought the battlesuit with the money he'd made through the Sentella. An organization dedicated to protecting the very people who were now attacking him for no reason other than a birthright he couldn't help. A birthright that had been filled with lessons from his father about protecting his people.

  "Remember, son, you are a servant of the Caronese. Your job isn't to rule them so much as it is to protect and provide for their well-being. The strength of your reign will be judged by the strength of our people. Their happiness is your happiness. Love flows both ways. Never abuse your power or your people. There is no glory in cruelty. Only shame." His father's words haunted him now.

  That sense of noblesse oblige was why he'd joined and funded the Resistance as Kere.

  Unlike his father, Arturo saw the people as tools to be used and destroyed when they no longer served his needs.

  Pip kicked him again. "Get his cards and anything else he has of value. We can sell it."

  "Yeah," Timmon laughed. "I have many needs."

  Shocked and horrified by their ruthless animal behavior, Darling lay helpless as they stripped him completely bare. While they pilfered his belongings, they found Zarya's ring on his pinkie where he'd placed it last night so that he could keep that small part of her with him.

  Don't steal it.

  It was all she had left of her dead mother... Her only inheritance.

  His throat tightened as he remembered her giving it to him six months ago. "I can't take this, Zarya. I know what it means to you."

  "Please take it. My father used to say that it would protect me from harm. See..."--she'd pointed to the side of the stone--" it has the face of Tearsa on it." Tearsa was the goddess of healing and protection. "I've never been wounded while wearing it. And I want her to protect you, too. Please, Kere. You're everything to me. I have to know that you're safe at all times."

  He'd allowed Zarya to put it on his pinkie and had sworn to her that he'd protect it with his life.

  It was a vow he intended to keep.

  Even though Darling was paralyzed, he focused the mental powers he had as hard as he could. They weren't going to take her ring without a fight. Touching the part of his mind that functioned on a higher level, he managed to clench his fist shut to keep them from removing the ring.

  They tightened their grip on his hand as they attempted to pry it open.

  Darling used everything he had to keep his fist tight and to protect that ring like he'd promised.

  Pip cursed him for it, then pulled out a knife and sliced his finger off.

  Pain ripped through him as tears dulled his sight and his head swam. He felt so sick.

  Jeering in triumph, Pip danced his severed finger in front of Darling's eyes as he slid the ring off it. "Bonus round. Now we have proof to send to the governor that we have him." He tossed the bloody ring into the air and caught it. "And I have something I can use to buy my wife a new dress and pay some bills. Thanks, Highness. Tim, stop the bleeding. We don't want His Royal Faggotry dying on us like his bitch sister did."

  Appalled, disgusted, and heartbroken, Darling let the agony and horror of everything that had happened in the last few minutes wash over him. But worse than that was the fear of what would happen to his mother and Drake after they killed him.

  And they would.

  There was no way in hell his uncle would ever spend a single cred to get him back. Not after Arturo had already sent an assassin to kill him. And he knew that for a fact. He had given the contract that Arturo had signed listing him as the target to Hauk for safekeeping until tonight when Darling had planned to use it to call Arturo out at the CDS.

  Little did the Resistance know, they'd done his uncle a huge favor today. For once, Arturo wouldn't have to fabricate a story as to why his "obstacle" had died by an a
ssassin's hand. Arturo would dance for joy that his enemies had killed his nephew for him.

  And the men around him were going to get what they deserved. Arturo as their permanent governor. An uncontested leader who hated them as much as they hated him. One who would take the same amount of pity on them as they'd shown Darling and his sister.

  None whatsoever.

  May the gods help them now that he wouldn't be there to protect them from Arturo's wrath.

  Yeah, fate was a bitch, but she always had a wicked sense of humor. Today, he was her punch line.

  Tomorrow, she'd be laughing at them.

  Darling's thoughts turned to Zarya. He wanted to believe she had nothing to do with this. That she'd never sanction such cruelty from her men.

  But he knew better.

  Clarion had the very weapon he'd designed for her. A weapon she'd worn on her body just last night, and had promised she wouldn't take off no matter what. The only way for Clarion to have it was for her to have given it to him.

  I'm such a fool.

  He'd let his love for her blind him to her true nature. She was just like everyone else. Selfish. Heartless.

  Cruel.

  Don't doubt her. Maybe he stole it.

  Darling ruthlessly held on to that single hope until they landed and the men roughly dragged him off the ship. Like his palace guards, they took pleasure in causing him as much pain as possible.

  They were halfway through the hangar he knew as well as his own when he heard Zarya's voice off in the distance.

  "What's going on here?" she demanded as she closed the distance between them.

  Pip answered. "We captured the effing heir, Darling Cruel. Can you believe it? How lucky are we? Bastard fell right into our hands."

  Darling couldn't lift his head to see Zarya, but he prayed she would recognize him and stop this madness. Surely, she would know his body.

  His scars.

  True she'd never seen them in any kind of light, but she'd felt every inch of his body with her hands and tongue enough that she should know it by now. Couldn't she sense it?

  If nothing else, she should recognize the tattoo on his shoulder blade that marked him as a Sentella soldier and an assassin. While it was custom designed, it still bore enough semblance to the Sentella's emblem that she'd have to know it. Surely... Not to mention the wound in the middle of his tattoo that she'd castigated him over just two nights ago.

  Please, Z. Please see me...

  He'd never needed her more than he did right now.

  "Why is he naked?" she asked.

  "His clothes fell off." Pip laughed. "Don't worry, though. We'll get some beggar's best for His Highness."

  She lifted Darling's head off his chest so that they stared at each other. As it always did from years of his training it, his long hair fell over the left side of his face, hiding his scar from her view.

  Even so, couldn't she recognize the lips that had kissed and pleased her for countless hours?

  Zarya, please help me. Please...

  I love you so much.

  How could she not see it in his eye?

  But there was no love in her gaze. No recognition whatsoever. Only hatred and contempt.

  She sneered at him. "Bastard royal scum. You're all lying hypocrites. I hope all of you get what you deserve." She spat in his face and released his head to fall forward again.

  Darling swore his heart shattered. Surely that was the only thing that could explain the utter misery and agony he felt.

  The total desolation. He'd been abandoned before in his life by people he loved, but never had it hurt as much as this did.

  She can't stand the sight of the real me... She wasn't able to see past his birthright anymore than the others.

  So much for all her brave assertions that his looks didn't matter.

  Why had he ever expected better from her? Even if everything had gone as planned, she would have never accepted Darling Cruel as the man she loved. He would have sickened her as much as he did his uncle and mother.

  No matter how he mapped it, all roads led to her slapping his face and leaving him out in the cold.

  He heard Maris's bitter voice in his head. "Everyone lies. Everyone betrays, Darling. The world is eat up with selfishness and cruelty. You need to learn to accept it like the rest of us have."

  Zarya stepped back. "Clarion, report to my office."

  "What about our prisoner?"

  "Take him to a holding cell. You and I need to talk. Now."

  Pip replaced Clarion who'd been holding Darling's left arm. "You want us to wait for you?"

  "Nah. Make sure His Highness"--Clarion sneered those words--"is well appointed. After I talk to Zarya, I'll inform his uncle of our demands."

  "Will do." Pip dragged Darling down the hallway Darling had walked a hundred times while joking with him, Clarion, and dozens of others who were here now.

  None of them spoke up on his behalf. Not a one tried to help him or tell the others that what they were doing to him, a fellow human being, was wrong and beneath them.

  A million regrets and condemnations tore through him. Never had he felt more betrayed by anyone.

  Not until Pip chained him to the wall.

  Pip raked a repugnant glare over Darling's naked, exposed body that was covered with bruises, wounds, and scars. Some from his uncle's hatred, the rest from his efforts to keep the Resistance safe and viable. "I never thought an aristo would look like you." He pulled Darling's shoulder away from the wall to examine the tattoo on his back. "You're even marked. Anyone recognize this?"

  One by one they shook their heads negatively.

  "It kind of looks like an assassin's mark," Pip said with a frown.

  "Yeah, right," one of the others laughed. "Given its location, you can tell who's been biting the pillows when he gets screwed. I'm sure he had it done to look tough for all of his boyfriends. Make them think they were drilling a real man when they were on top of him and not some limp-stick fag."

  Pip joined his laugher. "No kidding, right? The only thing he ever trained was his finger to press a button so that he could order someone else to come wipe his ass for him." Pip hit him right where he was wounded.

  Had Darling been able to move or speak, he would have laughed at their arrogant ignorance. That tattoo was the mark of the Sentella and an assassin's emblem. A long knife going through the center of a skull with a snake crawling out of its right eye socket. The tail of the snake came out from the mandible and coiled around the bottom part of the blade.

  It was a grim promise. Da nullam clementiam--"Give no mercy." As his father had taught him and as the Resistance had proven to him by their actions--" Never be afraid to kill or destroy your enemies. They would not hesitate to kill or destroy you."

  And with what they'd done today, they had just made it to the top of his kill list.

  All of them.

  Pip grabbed his jaw and slammed his head back into the wall as hard as he could.

  Unmitigated pain exploded through his skull, blurring his vision. Gah, that hurt.

  Pip tightened his hold, making sure his fingers bit deeply into Darling's cheeks. "You better be glad we need you whole for the ransom, rich boy. If we didn't..." He held Darling's severed finger up for him to see. "This would be the least of your injuries."

  Darling tried to spit at him, but all it did was come out as a low burst of breath.

  Pip glanced over his shoulder at another rebel. "Grab a quarter muzzle for our guest. Last thing we want is to hear his royal complaints when the stun blast wears off."

  Darling's stomach shrank at his words. A quarter muzzle was an old Caronese torture device that had once been used for traitors. It had a spiked ball that was put beneath the tongue, then two thin barbed straps that were shoved down the throat. Anytime the wearer swallowed or tried to speak, the spikes sliced into their throat and the underside of their tongue.

  Though brutal, it was probably some kind of karmic justice since it'd been
invented by one of Darling's ancestors and coldly used to punish his enemies. It, along with many other such vicious acts, was why his family had been given the Cruel surname by their people centuries ago.

  So this is how I die.

  Not peacefully in old aged sleep like he'd hoped. Or under his uncle's fist or a lucky shot taken at him by his enemies as he'd expected.

  No. He would die betrayed and tortured by the very people he'd risked his own life to help.

  And when they shoved the muzzle into his mouth and tightened its thin strap around his head until he tasted nothing but his own blood, a new fire burned through him.

  I won't let you kill me. I will survive this.

  Somehow. Someway. And when he did...

  He was going to kill every one of them.

  Slowly. Painfully.

  And with relish.

  "Why are you so pissed?"

  Stunned by the sheer stupidity of that question, Zarya stared at her second in command. Was he out of his mind? How could he not understand her anger? "We are not kidnappers. My God, Clarion, that's a member of the royal family you just dragged in here. Have you any idea what the League would do to us if they found out?"

  He scoffed derisively. "They don't care, and you know it. Relax. We're just holding him long enough to get the ransom, then we'll release him."

  "He's seen our faces."

  "So? We're all off grid. Even when they know who we are, they can't find us now. They won't find us later. Besides, he's an aristo. He can't brush his own teeth without his valet doing it for him, never mind swear vengeance and hunt us down. All he'll do is send others after us and they won't do shit but milk his trust fund until it's gone or they get bored. It's not like the Sentella or the Tavali are going to take his contract against us. They don't work for the aristos unless it's against the League, and you know it."

  Still, Zarya had a bad feeling about this. She didn't like cruelty against anyone, and the last thing she wanted was to incur the wrath of any aristo.

  Look on the bright side, at least they didn't kidnap Drakari Cruel. Rumor had it he was even more brutal than his uncle. And he was battle trained by some of the best instructors in the elevated circles.

  Darling...

  By all accounts she'd ever read, seen, or heard, he was weak, passive, and extremely effeminate. No backbone whatsoever. It was said that even his own bodyguards ignored his orders and snatched him around like a helpless child. Most of the aristocracy hated him. Unless his uncle commanded it for state functions, his own mother refused to be in his presence or even say his name.