Dark as the Cursed Abyss (The Nostos #2.75)

Chapter One

Farah

With careful conversation and tactics she’d honed over the years as a spy for this very isle, she would deceive them. If they sailed to Hespali, only one person would make it out alive, and she was gods-damned sure who it would be.

Blood trickled from under Farah’s nails, landing on the driftwood table before her.

Light filtered in through large glass windows where crystal skies revealed the vast expanse of the sea.

The glittering water and sunlight refracting off small gemstone contraptions hanging from the ceiling was a stark contrast to the chaos that filled her mind as she waited.

She was used to this—the apprehension that a desperate king hoped to stir up in ordering your immediate summons, only to not be present themselves.

One would think that meant they were in grave danger.

In some cases, that may be true; Farah was always worse off when her father would arrive late.

But somehow, sitting in Nikolaos’s office alone was nerve wracking for one reason and one reason only.

Her blood.

And what it could do if mixed.

From her earlier conversations with the leader of the katáskopoi, her handler, Ajax, she did not think the Nexians knew why she was such a formidable bargaining chip, though you could never be too sure with their kind.

The story of her father’s involvement with the queen’s sister, Avra, was…

complicated. More complicated than she cared to admit at the moment, especially to the people in this castle.

Secrets carried greater weight than money in the isles and she had more locked in her head like tiny writhing snakes than any coffer in Mykandria.

“Fates, Farah, is it possible to stop bleeding all over my desk?” The King of Nexos strode into the room with a whoosh of his navy gilded cloak.

The man was terrifying in a way so vastly different from her father.

With Khalid, she was afraid her father might harm her, toss her in the dungeons, or send her to her lessons that taught dignity with force.

With Nikolaos, however, Farah was only frightened because before her sat a man who held immense power and yet chose to keep it in careful reserve.

Why did he keep such power in check?

Did the other Grechi not fear what he could become? What all the gods could become?

“Apologies, Nikolaos,” she deadpanned, wiping away the scratches that clawed her nail beds to scraps. “Am I correct in assuming that you summoned me here to discuss my father?”

He slid behind his desk, taking up the full frame of the windows, shadow casting over the desk and blocking the light from her.

His head tilted to one side and with his breath, small tendrils of black extended out from him.

They formed inky hands, casting their way toward her.

Was this to be her end, then? The final day as a trusted katáskopos.

The shadowed hand cupped beneath her chin, lifting a reluctant smile from her lips. “I care not for the history of your father, but unfortunately my wife does. She has lived his very wrath and the repercussions of his actions.”

Farah’s brow arched, matching the scowl that now curled her lips. “I am well aware of the wrath and repercussions of my father, Nikolaos, as well as your wife’s involvement in why he is that way.”

“My wife did what was best for her family and that of Odessia. If your father had access to that kind of power—”

“Avra’s power was heightened by completing the Mysteries with another god. My father is no god, even if he thinks himself above the mortals of these isles,” Farah snapped. She had no patience left today, not if she was to sail to her impending death at the hands of a god scorned.

A chilled breeze whipped through the room, peppering goosebumps up Farah’s back. It twisted in her hair, sending tendrils of curled locks flying in her face. Creaking sounded from behind, the hinges of the door the only sign that someone entered the study.

“My sister’s power is not a concern,” Giselle’s sweet but deadly voice cut through the thickened air, loud enough that Farah stiffened in her chair.

Fucking wolves. Always sneaking in places.

“I was wondering if you would show, Giselle.” Farah turned in her chair. “Your sister’s power should be a concern, especially if you are so willing to throw your daughter in her line of fire.”

Nikolaos snickered, pulling his shadows back. In their place came Giselle’s spindly fingers tilting Farah’s chin up toward her, grazing her claw-like nails along skin. “My dearest daughter can hold her own.”

“But she should not have to. Do you know what it is like to be a child sacrificed to gain an army?” The brand on Farah’s stomach burned at the words, but not nearly as much as the idea of who she might have to marry if she was ever forced back to her home.

Giselle’s eyes turned from an icy shade of blue to the warming tone of the sea on a sunny day.

Her canines shrunk back into her mouth and her nails appeared blunter than moments before.

“I would never sacrifice my own daughter for an army, Farah. The Fates have spoken, and even as a parent I cannot interfere in their will. The two of you will go. It is imperative that both of you are there together.”

Perhaps the elder wolf did know more than she let on.

Farah’s hand went to the small vile of blood she’d procured from Chloe.

It would be enough on her travels if she could make the sail unscathed, but if the ship encountered any turbulence, if the vial broke, she might as well have stayed on these shores.

Which is why she understood the need to have Chloe present on what should be her mission alone.

Her father left something behind all those years ago in Hespali. Farah would find it. She would find it and with Chloe’s blood she would finally be able to kill him.

Icicles crackled along the windows in the corridor leading toward Farah’s chambers, spilling out their intricate patterns along the stained glass.

A breeze circled around her, twirling about her ankles and causing her to halt in her place.

Farah went to lift her foot, though it was frozen, unable to even turn to see what caused the inconvenience.

“I would like to speak to you alone.” Giselle’s haunting voice trailed down the hallway, echoing off the alabaster walls. Those same goosebumps from before trailed Farah’s entire body this time, causing her blood to chill like stepping into a winter’s night uncloaked.

The Nexian queen stepped soundlessly beside her, shoulder barely brushing against Farah, but enough that she could sense the apprehension radiating off Giselle’s body.

“If you wish to speak to me alone”—Farah struggled to move her legs once more—“it might help to release me from whatever hold this is.”

Giselle’s lip curled up in a snarl, revealing one of her sharp canines. It was not shaven like her father’s monstrous teeth, but rather a natural, elongated ivory spike. “Are you so frightened of being near my kind, spy?”

“I fear no gods, Grechi or Olympi.” Farah’s neck twitched and she flinched slightly away from the woman, but not enough to be noticeable.

“I am not talking about the gods, dear girl, although you should fear them. Your father never did and now look where that has gotten him—beholden to the most vile of us all. A slave to power and retribution at the sacrifice of his own free will.”

The hold on Farah’s feet loosed and she turned to stare down the Goddess of the Moon.

“My father dug himself that grave. Power was always the diamond he coveted, whether it was with your sister, or the Olympi he aids in resurrection. I, however, am not so easily swayed. Nor do I cower before those that think they can control me.”

“I do not wish to control you, or persuade you like my daughter one day might. I only wish to warn you of the true history between my sister and your father.” Giselle handed Farah a worn out piece of parchment, creased so deeply from time.

Farah tried to stop her with her hand. “I don’t need proof of the history between Avra and my father.

I know it well. They were lovers, set to complete the Mysteries before you interfered.

They never finished the trials and in Hespali that is a bound law—no marriage should be blessed if those who wish to bind themselves do not prove their right to do so.

He fled, met my mother, had two children, became a wretch—or possibly always was one.

Your sister never forgave you for it and now you wish your daughter and the daughter of her former lover to smooth things over for the sake of our lands. Am I missing something?”

Eyes dilating, Giselle cocked her head to the side in a slow and daunting manner. “Yes, my dear girl, you are missing the most important part of all.”

Wolves—they never got to the point did they? “And what might that be?” Farah questioned, reluctant to hear whatever ghastly thing Giselle might spew.

“That there was a child. A child that without the blessing of the Mysteries, was sacrificed to the Fates. A child’s death that Avra always blamed your father for.”

A child.

Khalid and Avra had a child.

This changed everything.