Chapter Twenty-Six
Itapped an impatient rhythm on the table beside me. “If I’d known they’d be gone this long, I would have searched the damn council chamber myself.”
“Be calm, love.”
Eurok placed a reassuring hand on mine with a gentle, teasing smile, as if I were behaving like an overbearing mother.
“I’m calm when I put my mind to something,” I said with a bite.
His unbothered demeanor, his unwavering confidence that everything would work out, bothered me to no end. But then again, Eurok had always been more comfortable with delegation. I, on the other hand, preferred doing things myself, and sitting here hour after hour was as enjoyable as wearing a crown of thorns.
“I need some air.”
With an abrupt turn, I beelined toward the door to the gardens. If I got eyes on them, perhaps I could gauge whether there was enough time to search the council chamber myself.
Eurok fell in beside me. “We should let her be, Sidelle. Let her work—she’s got this.”
I gritted my teeth to keep from snapping at him. A wasted effort. “She’s not a trained warrior, Eurok. She’s a twenty-three-year-old woman and the reincarnation of the rightful leader of this kingdom. We have to protect her. I can’t sit here and wait to find out he’s…” My words died in the air, unable to bring myself to admit the fear that plagued me.
“You underestimate her.”
I scoffed. “That’s ridiculous. Yes, she’s skilled—it’s just… You know how these humans are with Atreus. They adore him.”
“You don’t trust her to stay aligned with our plan?”
“No, that’s not it.” I stopped near the large, bone-white stone archway leading to the gardens. “I don’t want her falling for his charm.”
“His charm.”
Eurok’s deadpan expression told me I’d done nothing to convince him of my faith in Mira. I was confident she was capable of this, especially after our interactions earlier. But still, a nagging, rearing ache jerked in my stomach. Had I failed to prepare her for what to expect from Atreus—the enigmatic, captivating man most of these humans experienced? Convincing the king that she didn’t possess mana meant opening her up to that version of him. And even more problematic were his, by human standards, charming good looks.
“Never mind,” I said, starting for the door.
“They’re not out there,” Balis called from behind Eurok.
His disheveled appearance suggested he also had a challenging night, evident from his untidy vest and tousled hair. His flushed face and sweat-beaded brow suggested the heat was getting to him, too.
“Where did they go?” I asked.
“I lost them when they ducked inside while I shifted,” he said, frowning. “Their scent leads to the second floor, but the guards won’t let me through.”
He slid his hands into his pockets and stared at the gray stone floors, purposefully avoiding eye contact. It was clear he was cautious about revealing too much, especially his deep concern for her, which was almost palpable.
“It seems he has no intention of bringing her to his council chamber,” I said. “So I’ll go.”
Eurok’s attention snapped to me. “Let me do it.”
“No.” I shook my head, casting a glance toward the shadows beneath the balcony. “I’m familiar with the room. If I’m caught, it will be easier to explain.”
His face fell, but he nodded.
“And you’re sure it’s in there?” Balis folded his arms over his lean, muscular chest.
“It will be in one of two places,” I said.
“And the other?” Eurok asked.
“Where I suspect he’s taken Mira.” I didn’t intend to, but I caught myself gazing at Balis. “His bedchamber.”
His face blanched and his fists clenched. For a moment, I thought the thin veil of control he had would shred into tattered ribbons. But he somehow gathered enough composure to straighten his shoulders and address his superior.
“Captain, I’d like to request you stay here in case Mira returns. I want to attempt getting past the guards in case she needs help.”
Eurok deflected to me with a raised brow. I nodded.
I crept behind the pillar just outside the council chamber, hiding within the heavy gold fabric that draped over it.
The mural on this column had been acid-washed to erase its shared history, yet I recalled it vividly. Two towering figures were depicted. The first figure was shapeless—the artist’s attempt to capture Erezos’ ever-changing forms throughout history, always embodying darkness and power. The other was a beacon of light. Aethier.
Each god was the backdrop to the two smaller focal points, infants bundled in blankets, each a mirror image of the other. Both bore the crest that adorned each guards’ armor and every flag that waved over the castle towers—one any Westryellian recognized. The only difference depicted was the material of the infant’s blankets.
One glittered like gold, reflecting Aethier’s brilliant light. The other resembled the winding black and burgundy branches of the Diablerie tree, which stood in the place Erezos first emerged in this variant. The same tree Atreus had burned soon after ordering Annorah’s head at his feet.
Further down the concealed pillar, where the acid failed to remove the pigment, an image showed a king kneeling in the foreground. His face, painted with artful joy, and arms raised in victory. I could still remember the uplift in the streets. Everyone within the kingdom rejoiced when the news spread that King Carlisle’s prayers for children had been answered. But now the memory was a wound that refused to heal—a dull ache where unrestrained joy once lived.
Atreus was a disease, a cancer to this land. One that, if left to fester, would surely be the death of us all.
I concealed myself in a veil of shadow. If not for the dim light beneath the balcony, it would have looked oddly out of place, but it did the trick to conceal me as I tip-toed to the door–
Secured with a lead lock.
Atreus had guarded against mana being used to enter. Of course.
I searched for something—anything to help me gain entry. Just beyond the balcony’s shadow, a magnificent spread ran the length of the room. Two guards stood posted on either side of the table, their view of the immense feast blocked by enormous potted flowers wilting in this hellish heat.
To avoid arousing suspicion, I straightened my shoulders and lifted my chin before approaching. No one seemed interested as I scanned the silver platters of various foods—stews, braised beef, and elaborate pasta dishes with fine cheeses—all still hot from the constantly revolving door of servers from the kitchen.
There, leaning on the edge of a half-eaten platter of braised beef, a carving fork. I checked for any stray glances, then grabbed it, sliding it up my sleeve. A heavily inebriated gentleman stumbled back. Tremors of rattling china echoed across the hall, drawing unwanted attention. The nearest guard rushed over, helping him to stand as onlookers gawked. I took quick advantage of the distraction and stepped into the shadows, concealing myself in a dark haze once more.
Over the centuries, I learned that honing my skill in a specific element allowed me to bend its effects to my advantage. This smoke, for example, could be called to my aid when needed. A young wielder like Mira would only have mastery over flame. While they could burn, they lacked the finesse to manipulate its smoke or heat as isolated constituents without extensive training or divine intervention, such as challengers received in the Aupex Proving Games.
I pulled the fork from my sleeve and, using the small crack between the door and the stone frame, snapped it in two. I jammed the broken end into the keyhole, fidgeting and prying on the lock.
After every botched attempt, I reined in my nerves. This had to work. I was out of options. If I failed, whatever Atreus was subjecting Mira to in his bedchamber would be for nothing. Balis’ pained expression upon learning her whereabouts shattered any resistance I had to their attraction. Perhaps I made the mistake of imposing my beliefs on them—the same that led me to deny my feelings for Eurok even after I bound my fate to his. I said the words, made the commitment, yet I stonewalled my first opportunity to be proud of it and lied to Mira.
I should have told Vitany to go fuck herself.
Mira was right—I didn’t deserve him.
Another fail, and I slammed my hand against the door with an audible grunt of frustration. A rhythmic pulse of footsteps and shifting metal sounded from around the corner. I threw a glance over my shoulder and jiggled the mangled carving fork at the pins and springs. From the sound, I could make out two guards, most likely on rounds, caught in a tired, wary conversation.
For now, the drapery and a massive vase filled with blood-red and white flowers obscured my position. But as soon as they rounded the corner, they’d have a full view. I tried again.
Click. Snap. Nothing.
Click. Snap. Click. Snap. I had time for one last attempt before…
Click.
The lock fell slack. I tossed it into the vase and darted inside. Bracing my weight against the weathered door, I held my breath as the echo of leather boots sounded off the stone walls outside. A few thunderous heartbeats later, once I was sure the guards moved on, I drew in a lungful and released my nails from the woodgrain, then opened my eyes.
Candelabras were lit, casting the space in an ambiance similar to what I enjoyed in my own study. It felt strange here at night, though. At the center, the large stone table with its carved map of Westryelle gave off a menacing vibe. The arches and divots of its landscape and movable figurines stretched long shadows over the polished surface.
I tried not to dwell on the nefarious dealings Atreus conducted from here. Perhaps it was my bitter penchant for always assuming everything about him had a darker side. In this light, the room felt distinctly different from my previous experiences—as though the walls held secrets, and the shadows longed to whisper them in my ear just to scare me. Unable to take it any longer, I funneled a small bit of moonlight to brighten the space.
Something glinted in the corner, drawing my eye to the towering bookcases along the back wall. I moved closer to inspect it, angling the light with my hand to aid my venture.
Another glint, half-obstructed by a large book I pulled out the thick leather-bound tome—then it slipped from my grasp. It slammed against the stone floor in a thud that ricocheted through the room.
There—it was small, no bigger than the palm of my hand—a moonstone.
No. A manastone.
I kept one foot of consciousness on the door, holding it closed with a steady pulse of my mana. It would provide a moment’s warning if someone tried to enter, not much, but it’d have to do.
The stone’s pulsating, familiar energy called out to me. I reached closer out of instinct rather than curiosity. I recognized it even before my touch slid against its hard, smoothly carved surface. My fingers grazed the stone’s coolness—I jerked back. It felt like the cold expanse of eternity. Power, unimaginable power.
Just as I thought.
Erezos.
My knees threatened to buckle, as if the floor beneath me was ripped away. How? How did the human king, a direct creation of his light god, possess a minute fraction of my god’s power?
My skin lit up with crackling spiderwebs of lightning. World spinning, I lowered my gaze, trying to compose myself. Mira.
This changed nothing. Gods berate me, of course it did. But not tonight. Not when Mira was up there with him. I had no idea how it was possible, but if Atreus was using Erezos’ power, there’s no telling what he planned to do with it.
She was in the lion’s den now. We all were.
Atreus led me through the upper level’s long winding halls while my plans seemed to slip through my fingers like sand from a tight fist. I couldn’t fight it. Doing so would only make things worse and raise suspicion. I kept playing along, hoping by some miracle I’d get another shot at that journal in the future.
But tonight had gone to complete shit. I pushed Balis away, told him to let me work, that he shouldn’t care. Then I failed, anyway. I had nothing to report back to Sidelle. Atreus hadn’t so much as mentioned a word of ash weapons or poachers, regardless of how well I convinced him I was of a similar mindset concerning the Vylandrians. And now he only had one thing on his mind.
Fair enough.
I had no idea where my companions were, and I was sure Balis couldn’t have followed us up here. A small part of me was glad about that. At least he wouldn’t have to watch the king try to fuck a failure.
“Where are you taking me?” Skepticism tied knots in my stomach, though I tried to keep it out of my voice.
His answer was a sultry smile.
We turned down what seemed to be a private hall, and at the end was a tall set of thick, sturdy wood doors. Atreus opened them, and I must’ve appeared awestruck because he gave a pleased chuckle, then pulled me inside. When he pushed the way shut again, to my relief, he didn’t lock it.
As if he read my mind, he held up his hands in surrender. “You’re not trapped here. You can leave whenever you like.”
The gesture improved my mood a bit, but the precariousness of the situation wasn’t lost on me. I was still alone in an isolated room with a dangerous man. And, save for a small dagger I stowed between my breasts, I was unarmed.
He sauntered toward the elaborate bar cart near the hearth and poured a drink. When he offered it to me, I grinned up at him in thanks.
“You seem nervous,” he said, tucking my hair behind my ear.
“Forgive me, Your Majesty–”
“Atreus.” His brows raised in a gentle yet imploring look.
“Atreus.” I smiled meekly. “I guess I’m so used to being the hunter that I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be the prey.”
With an attractive roll of his lips, he smirked. “And what a beautiful prize you would be.”
I swallowed hard, my body tensing as if I were prey, locked in a silent duel with my pursuer, waiting for his next move. His gaze dropped to my mouth and his touch cupped the side of my neck. His warm hands were surprisingly rough. Perhaps he was a skilled swordsman. He had the body of one—tall, lean waist and broad, strong shoulders. Did he train with his guards?
“But,” his tongue clicked against his teeth, “I have other plans for you.”
My chin dipped, my narrowed eyes conveying my silent question.
“Would you like to see something?” he asked.
A dash of excitement lifted the corners of his lips. I nodded, and he grabbed my hand, pulling me to his bookshelf. Again, that boyish human quality emanated from him.
Monster, I reminded myself.
We paused before what appeared to be sturdy shelves laden with books. However, with a gentle tug, he guided me through. An optical illusion. What I perceived as thick oak and endless tomes was actually the rear wall of a passageway veering right behind the fireplace. With my hand clutched tight in his grasp, he led me around another corner to the left, unveiling a hidden room nestled within his chambers.
A breathy gasp drew from my lungs. It was an enormous solarium filled with the most beautiful, lush, leafy plants, all cascaded in spectacular silver-blue moonlight. Above was a masterful illusion of deep blues, purples, and black. Starlight broke the dark hues in dancing, twinkling displays of light.
“There’s nothing like a desert night sky.” Atreus spoke with a sense of reverence.
When I faced him, I found his heady stare already taking me in. This time, when he grabbed my hand, my heart stuttered in a way that felt… wrong. Like I could be wrong about him.
I pushed the thought away. I’m not, and I can do this.
“Why do you have all of these?” My fingers traced the smooth, waxy surface of an enormous green leaf speckled with yellow dots.
“I’ve collected them from all over the world.” His posture straightened, conveying a sense of pride as he eyed his extensive assortment. “Plants have always fascinated me.”
He tipped his head, urging me along to the other side of the room. We stopped before a low-lying shrub, his excitement palpable. Something inside warmed when he pointed at the small, unimpressive foliage with its spiky leaves and pink pompom flower.
“This is a shameflower,” he said.
I snickered a faint laugh. “Why on earth would it be called that? Is it ashamed of its size?” I teased, then furrowed my brow in a dramatic pout. “Do the other plants pick on him?”
Atreus playfully flicked my bottom lip, smirking. The glint in his eyes stalled my mirth.
“I’m not sure why it’s named that,” he said, “but it is a powerful fever reducer.”
“You study them? These aren’t all just pretty little collections?” I hoped I didn’t sound as shocked as I was.
“No, not at all.”
My perceived interest elated him. But in reality, those knots were returning to my stomach. He collected plants and studied them for their uses—the ash.
“Do you use them?” I shot out the question a bit faster than I intended and did my best to backtrack, to cover my eagerness. “I—I mean, do all plants have uses?”
“Not all, but many do. I only use them when necessary.”
He was still lost in the excitement of sharing it all, that he didn’t notice my slight lapse in attention as he led me along.
“I’ve traveled all over the world studying them and how their properties are applied in different kingdoms.”
“What are they used for?”
I wasn’t completely oblivious to the employment of plants for medicinal purposes, but I was far from knowing if something grew that nullified mana.
“All sorts of things—medicine, sleep, poison.” He stopped and moved in my path, resting his palms on my waist. “They’re fascinating, aren’t they?”
“Very,” I said.
My captivation wasn’t entirely feigned. When he touched another delicate stem, his sturdy hands guided it toward the sky to avoid it tangling with the plant beside it. Something tugged at my resolve. The reverence with which he cared for them felt like a contradiction to my reasons for being here. It made my heart sink a little.
Again, I shook the sensation away. “What’s your favorite?” I asked. An innocent enough inquiry.
“Well,” he said, “that one there, behind you, is a powerful aphrodisiac.”
I turned, spotting the plant in question. Tiny curling vines peeked between its waxy leaves. When I faced him again, I found his roguish grin settled on my face.
“Come on, let’s get you back to the druids.”
A jolt of relief surged through my body, followed by a wave of confusion. The emotion must’ve made its way to my expression because his features pinched.
“Are you disappointed?” he asked.
“No,” I said, realizing the flaw in my mask. “You’re just–”
“Different than you expected.”
I stared at my hands, attempting to summon the confident, spiteful, awestruck girl I was supposed to portray. However, with the plan’s evident failure, embodying that character no longer felt as urgent or necessary. I peered up at his face, framed by melding shades of night and stars, and it struck me just how at ease I felt.
Not smitten. I wasn’t attracted to him in the way I’d been pretending, unlike most humans. Yet, I started to question if there could be some truth to this Annorah thing. If I was truly her reincarnation, what if my purpose wasn’t to end the king’s reign but to enhance it? What if I was destined to foster harmony among Westryelle’s warring races, to serve as a bridge across the divide that even Sidelle struggled to uphold?
A reverberating blast shook the room, rattling the floors. I started, and Atreus stumbled, but regained his footing quickly.
A deep, riotous voice added to the ground’s turbulence. “Where is she?!”
Balis.