Blood Chained (Dark Siren Book 3) Read Online Free Page B

left his body weak, his mind damaged. The wolf was relentless, constantly lashing out, demanding its release. It wanted to finish what was started four centuries ago. It wanted revenge. It wanted blood.
Rhane thought of Warren and Jehsi. He focused on their faces and refused to sacrifice them to that bloodlust. There was another way. There had to be. He needed to talk to Jehsi.
Each visit to the chamber gave him a view of his father, sitting regally atop one of three thrones of the ruling Primes. Rhane saw his father almost every day. But not once in the past seven months had they spoken.
Jehsi held a front row view to his son’s penance. He saw anguish hidden behind the stoic emptiness in Rhane’s eyes. He saw hatred…and he saw his son breaking. His body was being crushed. His mind slowly buckling. And Jehsi was forced to watch. Forced to do nothing. All while showing no emotion, no weakness. If he was going to help his son, he could not be weak. 
Rhane had turned himself in on the heels of the boy’s capture and the promise of forgiveness. But his ruling brothers had betrayed that oath. Instead of granting mercy, they’d sentenced his son to a judgment entailing the harshest regime of torment reserved for the foulest of war criminals. Silas and Cale had deceived Jehsi and betrayed his trust. Now Jehsi needed to find out why.
For seven months he had worked tirelessly behind the scenes, lobbying for both Rhane and Warren’s freedom. Suspecting his brothers of corruption, the only place to receive that pardon was from the Mothers.
Mothers were dormant matriarchs of Warekin society. They represented the wisest and purest of bloodlines with reason and diplomacy rampant in their veins. Mothers were called upon only when the triumvirate of Primes could not reach unanimity in decisions determining the fate of their race.
Jehsi’s argument touched on issues deeper than Rhane’s imprisonment. Silas and Cale’s betrayal was caused by more than a desire for revenge. Something else was amiss in this realm. Jehsi had sensed it for some time now.
He presented the solid evidence he had—Warren’s survival and subsequent lapse of memory irretrievable even by force. The boy endured repeated interrogations concerning the day of the massacre and Ptolen’s death. He was even questioned about the siren and her current whereabouts. But the boy was not forthcoming with information even under extreme duress.
Jehsi also appealed to emotion. Instinct sensed an ally in the inscrutable Seppina, mother of Silas, a powerful healer, and the oldest and wisest of the Mothers. Jethra, Rhane’s grandmother, had loved Rhane as much as Jehsi, accepting the young pariah with open arms. She had loved and accepted Kalista. The third Mother was Coren, a cold and unbalanced wench. Indifferent to Jehsi’s appeals, he hoped she could be swayed by her ruling sisters.
For seven months, Jehsi had implored them for a sequestered hearing. Only now had they at last agreed to recess the sentence and hear Rhane speak. In two days’ time, the great Banewolf was to kneel before the Mothers and give voice to his actions four centuries ago and the time elapsed since then.
But when Jehsi turned the key to the cell door and stepped inside, he truly questioned whether his son would be ready.
Sleeping or unconscious, Rhane’s form was too still, too quiet. He barely breathed. His heart throbbed with only the faintest sign of life. Up close, the damage was far worse than Jehsi had surmised. He almost didn’t recognize the atrophied form of the most formidable warrior known to the Warekin. Cuts, bruises, open wounds, and deformities caused by unhealed bones covered every inch of Rhane’s body. He didn’t move as Jehsi entered, didn’t stir when Jehsi crouched beside him.
But when he whispered his son’s name, Rhane started like a frightened colt. Recognition filled his lovely eyes, and he relaxed. Neither of them said a word. He allowed Rhane to study him,