Blood Genesis (3 page)

Jaegar nodded, even as he plastered a fabricated smile on his own face—Jadon was not the only one who could pretend to be pleasant while smoldering inside, and Jaegar was not about to give his twin the satisfaction of a reaction. Rather, he reclined on the bed, crossed his feet at the ankles, and linked his arms behind his head, sinking deep into the golden brocade pillow. And then he simply waited for his twin to continue.

“And last but not least,” Jadon said, ignoring the cheeky display, “it is useless at this point to grieve over the loss of our sisters, or our royal queen mother; after all, princes—
nay, future kings
—were born and bred to carry a heavy yoke, and ours has been heavier than most. But our cause remains—what is the word you like to use?—ah yes,
divine
.
” He paused, just long enough to draw a needed breath. “And we
will
reap our due harvest in the end.” Jadon extended his bow to the waist, as if he were a mere bard completing a performance for the king. “Did I leave anything out,
dear
brother
?”

Jaegar’s nostrils flared as he sucked in air in a flustered attempt to restrain his temper: Jadon had always possessed the most infuriating manner of wielding his tongue like a sword while keeping it sheathed in its scabbard. He could slice someone open without dampening his smile. He could injure with his tone without modulating his voice. He could cut one to the quick while still remaining agreeable. One way or another, Jadon always made his point.

“Indeed, you have left something out,” Jaegar replied, forcing his own voice to remain affable.

Jadon cocked his eyebrows. “And what would that be?”

“Brotherhood,” Jaegar said. “Loyalty and comradery.”

Despite his superior self-control, Jadon laughed.

“Do not jest,” Jaegar snapped. “’Tis not funny in the least.” He rose up on the bed, braced the bulk of his weight on his arms, and glared at his brother in challenge. And then he quit pretending—this was no longer a game. “You are my brother, Jadon Demir. Flesh of my flesh. Blood of my blood. We shared our mother’s womb for nine long months. And despite this unfathomable weakness, your compassion for all things beneath you—
for
all creatures that will never be your equal
—you are still one of the most intelligent, talented, and insightful men I know. You are a better strategist than myself; you are a better tactician than my generals; and you are the only male left in this kingdom who carries pure, royal blood in his veins, save our father, of course.
But
his time
has passed
.” He curled his lips into a defiant smirk, daring the prince to interrupt. “I would have you by my side, Jadon. And moreover, I would not see our kingdom torn in half, divided by civil war”—he sat fully upright then and leaned forward—“a war you cannot and
will not
win.” He narrowed his gaze, and this time, he regarded his brother with esteem, if not outright respect. “And if I know you—
and I believe I do
—you will not stand back and watch as all of your loyalists are slaughtered unnecessarily. You will not send them to their premature deaths by forcing them to wage a battle that has already been lost.
And f
o
r what gain
?
Jessenia Groza is the last. As you so eloquently put it, soon we will reap the harvest we have planted.” His voice grew thick with conviction. “Stand with me, brother. Let us bury our past grievances, even as we bury this last female…
together
. United, we will be the most powerful monarchy that ever lived. Soon we will be as great as the gods.”

Jadon took an unwitting step back.

It was almost as if his legs faltered beneath the loathsome weight of Jaegar’s words. He shook his head slowly—
sadly
—and then he opened his mouth to speak, promptly closed it, and tried again, this time clearing his throat.
“
Jaegar…”

Jaegar shrugged. “Yes?”

“Brother…”

Jaegar wanted to wring his neck.
“
What
?”

Jadon pressed his lips together and furrowed his brow. He clasped his hands behind his back and the held the pose for what seemed like an eternity. When, at last, he unlinked his fingers and held both hands up in a gesture of surrender, Jaegar’s ears perked up:
Could it be
—go
ds be merciful
—was
Jadon finally coming around?
He held his breath until he could no longer stand the suspense.
“Well?”

As if at a momentary loss for words, Jadon continued to shake his head. “If I cannot appeal to whatever is left of your conscience, if I cannot get through to your soul, then perhaps I might appeal to your pride—nay, to your reason—to your extraordinary instinct for self-preservation.”

The air left Jaegar’s body, and he released it with a snarl. “Do tell, brother.”

“You say that soon we will reap the harvest we have planted, and I agree.”

Jaegar cocked his eyebrows and waited.

“But not in the way that you think.” He gestured insistently with his hands, his voice growing hoarse with conviction. “Jaegar, prince of these Carpathian Mountains, ruler of our beloved homeland; you have complimented my intelligence and my insight, so do me the favor of hearing me now.
Listen to my words
. I swear to you by all that is holy—
b
rother
—I have a terrible feeling about this sacrifice, an ominous foreboding about the next few days. I am filled with an overwhelming sense of dread.”

Jaegar simpered with disgust.
Not this.
Not again. “Of course you are.”

“No!” Jadon’s fevered voice echoed through the chamber like a bolt of lightning, rattling the chandelier. “Do not dismiss me. I am deathly serious, brother.”

Jaegar threw up both hands, but he listened…carefully.

“One by one, our women have died at the hands of their fathers, their brothers, and their sons, slain by those who should have been their protectors. And yet, there has been no reprisal. Piece by piece, the monarchy has been decimated, until you and I are all that remain of a once great kingdom,
us
and our broken, conquered father. Yet and still, the heavens have remained silent.
And now
this
?
” He pointed in the direction of the eastern battlements, signifying the hill beyond the walls, the sacrificial stone. “Yesterday, you discovered that there is yet one female living, and tomorrow, you would end her life in a sacrifice to the gods—you still seek to perform one final offering, to break the last fragile link in a long chain already stained with blood. But I tell you, brother, the fates will not remain silent forever. So much carnage cannot remain unnoticed. Such sinister crimes cannot remain unanswered, unchallenged—
unavenged
—forever. By all that is still holy—and all that ever was—I implore you: Do not do this thing, Jaegar. Let Jessenia live.” He took several steps forward, stopping just shy of the bottom stair on the dais. “She is still young. She may yet have children, perhaps many daughters. And those children may have daughters of their own. Men can father sons well into old age—we may yet reclaim our civilization.” He paused to take a labored breath. “And even if we don’t, even if she can’t, we may yet reclaim our humanity. Jaegar, please listen to reason. There is nothing more to be gained by slaughtering this innocent one—if the gods were going to exalt us, they would have done so already. I fear that what is to come is an abomination, the physical manifestation of a spiritual perversion. Let her live, Jaegar. Restore Father to the throne, and I will bury whatever ill-regard remains between us. I will unite my house with yours in an effort to move the kingdom forward.” He shook his head in regret, his deep, contemplative eyes darkening with sorrow. “And if our future generations are to be sired with human women, those not begotten of gods and men, then so be it. At least we will retain our souls. And Jessenia will preserve our legacy.”

Jaegar stared at Jadon in stunned stupefaction, silent for what felt like ages. And then he broke out in raucous laughter. “Oh, Jadon. You truly never give up, do you?’ He stood up abruptly, watched as his twin took three judicious steps back, and then bounded down the stairs, strolling within inches of his rival. He clasped him by both shoulders. “Brother, you think too much.” His voice hardened. “You fear too much. There is nothing on this planet to challenge us, nothing to be afraid of. Don’t you get it?
T
here is nothing g
reater than
us
.” He bent over and placed a familial kiss on Jadon’s right cheek. “Tomorrow is a new beginning. You have tonight to decide where you stand. Either way, we will meet back at the castle at dusk, following the execution, where you and I will convene in the great stone hall before the hearth of our ancestors.” He relaxed his grip and softened his voice. “We will forge a new covenant then. Whilst our men gather together in the courtyard…
at last
, our kingdom will become unified. All-powerful.
D
ivine
.” He savored the last word on his tongue. “And as for the future, the direction we will take going forward, you and I will decide this
together
,
then.” He smiled, feeling suddenly light of heart. “Oh, Jadon, just wait. This time tomorrow we will be as gods—I swear it.”

As if Jaegar’s hands were burning Jadon’s flesh, the prince brushed them off his shoulders and slowly backed away. “Then that’s it?” he said, his voice clearly despondent. “There’s nothing I can say?”

Jaegar stiffened and met his brother’s reproving gaze. “There is one thing.” He scowled with disappointment. “You can answer one question…
correctly
.” He leaned forward. “Will you and your loyalists be at the execution tomorrow? Will you take part in this one final sacrifice?”

Jadon nearly recoiled. “No.” His voice brooked no argument. “You know that we will not.”

Jaegar dropped his head into his hands. He brushed his thick, wavy hair out of his eyes and yanked the ends in frustration. And then he virtually exploded with anger. He punched Jadon in the jaw, rotated his wrist for good measure, and clipped him with his elbow on retreat. When the prince staggered backward, he lunged forward once again and struck him with a crisp, punitive uppercut, right beneath the chin.

Jadon’s head snapped back; his teeth visibly rattled, and it sounded like he may have lost a molar. He stumbled to the side, spit out a glob of blood, and braced his jaw in a trembling, angry hand. And then he stepped forward
and
smiled
—a wicked, mischievous grin. He dipped his hand beneath his royal cloak and palmed the hilt of his dagger.

Jaegar took a cautious step back. “So it comes to this, dear brother?” He laughed out loud, all the while eyeing the jewel-inlayed shaft of Jadon’s blade. “Mm, I see. Well, at least this is the twin I remember.” Without hesitation, he brought his hand to his hip, reached into his own leather scabbard, and brandished his private stiletto, stroking the golden tip like a long-lost lover. “Just say the word,
my prince
, and may the best man win.”

Jadon stood there like a grain of sand, caught between two halves of a broken hourglass—he couldn’t go forward, and he couldn’t go back.

“Tick tock; tick tock.” Jaegar clucked the sounds with his tongue, wondering what Jadon was thinking: Was he counting his loyal followers, considering the lives of his men? Or was he thinking about their father and the thin little strand, wrapped around Jaegar’s finger, that sustained the king’s fragile life? Was he calculating the future, evaluating an outcome he was helpless to change, or was he just now realizing he would never leave the castle alive, should he manage to harm the dark prince? Did he even care at this point? “Well, dear brother? I believe we are waiting on you.”

Before Jaegar could goad him any further, something ominous and distant passed through Jadon’s eyes; he stood up straight and removed his hand from his blade. “I will
not
attend the sacrifice, and neither will my men.” He practically growled the words. “But I
will
give you this one last concession:
This day
, I will not carve your heart from your body.”

His voice was much too tranquil.

His eyes were much too opaque.

And his manner was far,
far
too self-assured.

Jaegar took another tentative step back, regarding his twin warily.
What
the
hell
was that
?
Feeling more than a little uneasy, he tucked his own dagger back into its sheath and cleared his suddenly rusty throat. “Is that right?” He had to find a way to save face. “Then I shall give you one last concession as well:
This day
, I will not hold your insolence against you. I will pardon both you and your vagabonds a day in advance for failing to attend the sacrifice.” He held up his hand to silence his brother, lest the prince say something else stupid. “But know this, brother: You—and all of your loyalists—will be back at this castle by nightfall tomorrow for our reconvening, for our celebration. Fail to show up, and I will set the whole of our father’s army—
my army
—against you, and I
will
strike down each of your warriors, to the last man, including your beloved king.”

Jadon didn’t blink.

He didn’t move.

And he didn’t react.

And there was something so shadowed, so deep and determined in his eyes that it gave Jaegar another moment’s pause. Truly, Jadon must have been harboring a secret. He stared at the recalcitrant prince awhile longer, trying to discern what the great mystery was, before he shuddered and looked away.

Jadon Demir was not a weak man, not by a long shot. And he was not a leader to be trifled with—he had simply been outnumbered, outmaneuvered, and utterly caught off guard by the audacity of Jaegar’s movement, by the tenacity of Jaegar’s men. Still, the noble prince would willingly die for what he believed in; fortunately, he would not recklessly send others to their deaths for the same. He would not needlessly sacrifice the lives of his followers.

Still, with such strong provocation, he should have drawn his dagger.