Change of Darkness (The Change Series Book 3) by Jacinta Jade (best new books to read txt) 📕

Siraay just raised one eyebrow imperiously as she stared coldly at the other. ‘Are you forgetting that you would be just a soldier now, one of many enslaved in the Xarcon army, if it weren’t for me?’

‘I would rather be there than have my body used by you,’ spat her former self. ‘Would rather be with my friends—die beside them, as part of that filthy army—than be the plaything of a Xarcon lord.’ Old Siray was almost trembling in her anger. Anger based on a fear of what the female stood to lose.

Siraay felt her smile curl wider. ‘Oh, I’m not playing with Chezran. Not yet, anyway.’

The lips of her other self curled upwards in a sneer. ‘You disgust me.’

‘Please—what would you be willing to do to survive?’ She let that comment float in the space before them for a moment. ‘And remember—I am part of you. I just happen to be the stronger part. The only part willing to do what is needed for us to become what we deserve to be.’

Old Siray just shook her head, but she didn’t seem to have any more words.

A long, wild cackle sounded from another direction, and both of them snapped their heads that way.

‘We’ll sort this out later,’ promised the old Siray in a glacial tone. ‘But for now, let’s deal with her.’

Siraay’s eyes focused on a lean, red-haired figure strolling out of the darkness. ‘Agreed.’

The third figure broke into a sprint, and both Siraay and her former self threw themselves sideways to avoid being rammed by the strong body that dived at them.

Tumbling over the ground, Siraay spun as she came up on one knee, eyes quickly finding the manic smile of the broken one as the female slowly straightened up and began chanting nonsense in a singsong voice.

‘One, two, three, play with me. Three, two, one, both undone …’

If Siraay thought that the third version of herself had moved fast before, it was nothing compared to the speed with which the female employed now, the discrete actions of the broken one’s limbs indistinguishable as she leapt across the space between them in an instant. A hand of incredible strength snapped up to grip Siraay’s throat and lifted her off the ground, choking Siraay as her airway was squeezed.

But then another shape barrelled into the broken one from the side, causing the viselike grip on Siraay’s throat to be released.

Siraay dropped to the ground wheezing, her legs collapsing beneath her, but then her watery eyes turned towards the scuffling pair. Staggering to her feet, Siraay made to take a step forwards to help her former self but then stopped mid-stride as a thought occurred to her.

They were both fighting. Both occupied. And if they were focused elsewhere …

Siraay closed her eyes, forcing herself to concentrate. Grunts and yells of pain intruded into her mind, so she squeezed her eyes tighter together, balling her hands into fists as she attempted to block out the sounds.

Out. She needed to get out. She was in control. She was the true owner of their body.

She felt her mind begin to drift and then felt a touch of something else … some other sense. Siraay grabbed on to it, and the sounds of fighting around her faded away as her mind rose up from the darkness …

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

SIRAAY’S MIND CONTINUED to rise, light growing around her, until, suddenly, she was standing in her room, looking out through her balcony doors at a view of a city in the middle of its afternoon routine. She sighed in relief, her shoulders sagging with fatigue and the realisation of how close she had come to losing everything. But she was okay. She had made it. She was the strongest. Or the smartest.

What did it matter, really?

Thinking that a relaxing bath was in order, Siraay shifted her head to call for Trelar, but instead gasped and spun on her heel, her body almost rocking backwards at the sight that met her eyes.

There seemed to be a crowd of people occupying her room.

‘What do you want?’ she demanded, rattled.

No one responded.

Siraay took a couple of steps towards them, drawing herself up and raising her chin imperiously in an effort to hide her unease. ‘I asked you all a question?’ she tried again, in a ringing voice.

Still no one looked at her. It was as if they hadn’t even heard her.

Then Siraay noticed that, while no one was looking in her direction, they were all looking at something off to her right. At something on her bed.

She frowned and moved towards the steps, annoyed and angered that no one had deigned to acknowledge her. As she strode across the room, her steps quickening with her irritation, Siraay realised that she recognised a few of the faces closest to the bed.

Archon Renhed, closely watching everything.

Archon Loce, looking concerned.

Her servant, Trelar, fidgeting nervously off to the side.

Drosni, standing stiffly on the other side of the bed at attention.

And standing closest to the bed itself, gazing downwards at the piled pillows, was Chezran. His voice boomed through the room. ‘When will we know?’

Shuffling steps sounded as a healer nervously edged towards the bed, eager to please his master. ‘In the next day or so, my lord. It appears she is fighting hard, but this effort cannot be sustained for much longer.’

Chezran’s face grew darker. ‘How will we know?’

Siraay didn’t understand that question, but the healer seemed to know what Chezran was asking.

‘When she opens her eyes, my lord. It will be evident the moment she awakes.’

‘And if she is … different?’

The healer’s head bowed. ‘Then she will not be controllable. No amount of tarzneum would be able to sway the mind that will emerge if the worst occurs.’

Chezran stepped backwards. ‘Guards.’ His voice was low but firm, and it carried easily.

The healer stiffened, eyeing Chezran with alarm as all heard two pairs of booted feet striding purposefully over the stone floor.

Chezran didn’t acknowledge the healer further as he pivoted and spoke to the