2. Chapter Two
Chapter Two
Ariella
W hen did my skin become so sallow?
I pinch my cheeks and frown at the lack of color that appears. I haven’t looked into a mirror for weeks, but if I’d known just how sickly I look…
I swipe damp hair from my face, curling it behind my ears before studying my features some more. On a normal day, the silver covering my head compliments the tone of my skin, though I am a fair bit more pale than usual and the colors are not sitting well together.
I shouldn’t care so much. I’ve never worried over my appearance before.
Foolish thoughts. I shake my head and walk into the ostentatious room I’ve been assigned as a royal guard . As much as I love the color of blood, the use of it here makes my stomach turn.
I’ll have to see about redecorating. I’m sure Thalion would have something to say about ruining such decor, but there’s nothing left for him to take from me. He wouldn’t dare harm his heir, his single son, so I’m antsy to get under his skin in any way possible.
Until I kill him for good. Then I’ll actually be under his skin, only to toss it aside and watch as it rots enough for the maggots to feast.
Caspian was foolishly not against my declaration of murdering his father, as if his loyalty to his family means nothing in the wake of my presence. The man is truly in love with me—it’s disturbing. We’ve known one another for mere months, though that is not even the worst part of his obsession.
It was the day we met in the training room that I saw his infatuation settle around his being. I’d convinced myself that his pursuit was some personal endeavor he sought to achieve, the thought of which never bothered me much before. I'm sure that is all he wished for at first. He’s the prince—it isn’t difficult to conclude how he’d brag for fucking the Silver Wraith and lived to shout the achievement from rooftops.
But nothing with him is ever so simple.
He ruined every plan I’d devised. I should have torn his heart out just for standing in my way too many times.
That would have been simple. Much easier than the storm of emotion constantly surging through me that I continue to fight with everything I am.
But my life has never been so easy.
The Angel despises me—something I couldn’t care less about, but will punish all the same.
I slide on my usual leathers—black, as I refuse to don the hideous outfit every sentry is made to wear—and turn from my closet, pausing .
The gilded egg I took from my encounter with the griffin sits on the table next to my bed. I’ve yet to decide what to do with it because fuck if I’ll toss it out for the king to find and fuck if I’ll return it to the creature that almost tore every organ from my body.
She may have spared me, but even I am not foolish enough to test fate again.
Sucking in a deep, grating breath, I tug on my umbral strand and unwind the wards from my door. It’s satisfying, barely needing to flick my fingers to weave my ethereal affinity. The other affinities require more effort, their essence originating from the surrounding realm instead of inside me.
My fingers jerk in the slightest movements, grasping at the different tendrils of shadows and weaving them from their meticulously arranged, intertwined patterns. I could save time while creating my wards by throwing a tangled mess of essence into the door and frame, but it would take ages to undo. Over the years, I've settled on a routine, using the same pattern each time, and am now so familiar with it that it takes mere seconds to ward a door. It's not like there's anyone else who possesses the umbral strand that would figure out my technique, so how I do it doesn't necessarily affect anyone but me.
My steps slow as I approach Caspian’s room, and I smile—genuine, for once.
“I don’t know how many times we must have this conversation, Cas. She needed to go before, but after seeing her in the library? I’m not fucking playing this run-around game with you and her anymore.”
I lean against the wall, my leathers doing nothing to keep the cold of the stone out. A finger taps on the blade sheathed at my hip as I chuckle when there’s a deep sigh following Gavriel’s hissed declaration.
“I do not wish to continue having this conversation, but it seems it’s something my friend will not leave alone.”
“How do you not see it? The girl has gone crazy! Her eyes were somehow even more emotionless earlier than they normally are. I’m worried for your safety if you do not rid of her.” Strange—I felt far too full of emotions when I’d returned to the castle.
He’s just pissed that I ruined his sleeping arrangements. At least he's angry enough that he won't question just how I imbued his mattress with as much water as it would hold.
“I’m done talking about this with you, Gavriel. Bring it up again and we’ll have a problem,” the prince snaps, earning himself a growl from his brute of a friend.
I twist to my right and throw Caspian’s door open with my usual dramatic grace. “Aw, please don’t stop, Gav; I wanted to hear just how crazy I’ve become.”
The stalky guard faces me with a sneer that would make any weaker man piss themselves.
But I am no man.
“This is a private conversation, wraith.” My lips curve before I drop into a cushioned chair and wave a hand .
“Surely you’re aware half of Valoria could hear you barking at your prince,” I drawl, disinterested. Though my eyes snap up when Gavriel adjusts himself to be a barrier between Caspian and me—a rather unattractive one. “Don’t stress yourself too much, Gav. I won’t bite him.” My tongue runs along my lower lip as I meet the prince’s amused gaze. “Unless he asks, that is.” He swipes a hand along his chin, a slight twitch appearing at the corner of his mouth.
Gavriel’s face contorts. “You’re proving my point, wraith.”
I roll my eyes, crossing one leg over the other. “Oh please, as if you haven’t thought about it yourself. Perhaps you’re just jealous?”
The guard’s hand flies to the hilt of his sword, but Caspian steps forward, placing a firm hand on his friend’s shoulder. “That’s enough, both of you,” he says, his voice carrying the weight of his command.
I cannot help but smirk at the way Gavriel’s posture stiffens, his ingrained obedience to the prince overriding his hatred for me.
It’s almost endearing.
Caspian turns to me, his moonlit eyes softening. “Ariella, what brings you here?”
I shrug, feigning indifference. “I was bored.” I unsheathe my blade and rest my cheek on the point, needing some way to ground myself for the conversation to come. “And we need to discuss the Accord.” My eyes narrow on Gavriel’s face, and my suspicions are confirmed when he shows little reaction to my words .
Caspian indeed informed him of our little secret.
The prince sighs as he drops to his bed and leans back on his hands. “That we do. Gavriel,” he says, catching the guard’s attention. “You have training soon, so please inform us of what you’ve discovered.” He gestures a hand out as if in offering, but Gavriel’s lip just curls.
He doesn’t respond for a moment, seeming to contemplate something before deciding to ask. “You wish for her to hear?” Caspian nods once, leaving no room for argument.
The brute crosses his arms and faces the prince, widening his stance while he pointedly ignores my presence. Foolish fucking man.
“I was able to find a way into the tunnels without the other sentries suspecting, but I didn’t uncover much. There were,” he stretches his neck to each side as he pauses, “ sounds .”
“Sounds?” I ask, my interest piqued despite my distaste for the messenger. “What kind of sounds?”
Gavriel’s jaw clenches, but he answers, still refusing to look at me. “Inhuman. Like…like something crawling— scratching —against the stone.”
A chill runs down my spine, but I mask the unease with a smirk. “Scared of a few rats, Gav?”
He whirls on me, eyes blazing. “These were no rats, wraith. Whatever’s down there is not right.”
Caspian leans forward, resting both elbows on his knees. “Could you see anything? ”
The guard shakes his head. “No. It was too dark, and fuck if I was going to use a light. But I could feel them. Their presence.” He shudders.
Curious. My gut is telling me that his story is relevant to our current search, but how?
There’s something I am missing—something important. If I could just figure out what it is, I know that this will all make sense.
As much as I despise his presence, perhaps Gavriel could be useful. We need to know what the king is doing in the tunnels, and I will—with great enthusiasm—volunteer the brute to go in deeper. If one of us needs to be sacrificed for answers, it will be him.
I lean back in my chair, twirling my blade absently as I consider our next steps. Caspian stands, pacing the room with a thoughtful expression. “We need to explore further. If there’s something in those tunnels that could pose a threat to us or the city—even the Accord—finding it is a top priority.”
“Or aid it,” I interject, earning a sharp look from both men. I shrug. “What? We don’t know what these creatures are. They could be useful.”
The prince shakes his head. “We can’t risk it. I won’t allow you down there, not without more information.”
I scoff as I rise from my seat, sheathing my blade. “Then, by all means, Your Highness , let’s get more information.”
The library is still a disaster from yesterday’s quake. Shards of glass litter the floor, glinting in the sunlight that now streams unobstructed through the shattered window. Books are strewn everywhere, their pages stuck open from their fall.
It seems the staff has cleaned up a bit, as the large piece of wood is no longer here.
I walk my way through the debris, my eyes scanning the shelves that remain intact. “We should start with the historical texts,” I mutter, more to myself than to Caspian.
Thank the Angel Gavriel did not insist on following the prince around like an obedient puppy, though I could tell the idiot wanted to. How in the Aether Caspian ever saw any redeeming qualities in the man is far beyond my comprehension abilities.
He nods, already moving toward a far corner of the room where the dustiest books rest. “I’ll check the older records. Maybe there’s something about the tunnels in the original castle blueprints.”
We work in silence for a while, the only sounds the rustling of pages and the occasional curse when one of us steps on a shard of glass. The quiet is almost peaceful, but there’s an undercurrent of tension that I can’t quite shake .
I run my fingers along the spines of the ancient texts, dust collecting on my fingertips as I search for anything remotely useful.
My mind races as I try to piece together the fragments of information I’ve gathered. The balance seems to be at the heart of everything. But how does it connect to the Accord? The Aether? To the strange creatures in the tunnels? To my parents’ cryptic warnings?
I pull out a promising-looking volume and flip through its yellowed pages, my eyes scanning for any mention of the Aether or the Accord. A few passages catch my attention, speaking of a delicate balance between realms, of cosmic forces that have been relied upon for centuries.
My eyes widen as I read an intriguing passage:
“The balance, the mystical force which binds both realms, flows through the veins of our land like lifeblood. It is the source of peace, the harmony of essence itself. But beware, for as the Accord gives, so too can it take away. Should the balance be disturbed, the very fabric of reality may unravel.”
I frown, my mind racing. This sounds eerily similar to what my father’s journal hinted at. The balance shifting, the Accord weakening…could it all be connected to the Aether?
I flip through more pages, searching for any further mention of the Accord. My frustration grows as I find nothing concrete, just vague allusions to ancient rituals and binding agreements. It’s as if the true nature of the Accord has been deliberately obscured—hidden from something that’s deemed a threat .
Or someone.
I force the useless book shut, dust puffing into the air. My eyes sting, though whether from the particles or dissatisfaction, I’m unsure. Tossing the text back on its shelf, I reach for another when a warm breath tickles my ear.
“Find anything interesting?”
I whirl, my hand darting to the blade at my hip. Caspian stands there, an infuriating smirk on his face. How did he manage to sneak up on me? My senses are slipping in his presence. Unacceptable.
“Nothing substantial,” I mutter, annoyed at both his stealth and my lack of progress. “You?”
His smirk widens as he holds up a weathering, leather-bound book. “Actually, I might have something. Look at this.”
He flips the book open to a marked page and points to a faded illustration. It shows a network of tunnels beneath what appears to be the entirety of Valoria, some branches stretching into the Elysaran Mountains. The calm I was beginning to feel melts away as a heavy weight settles in my gut.
“Fuck me—they’re not just under the castle.” I sigh and lean back against a shelf, crossing my arms. “There is no possible way we could search through every one of those tunnels within the next century.” I barely finish my words before the prince shakes his head.
“That’s not necessary,” he answers, running his fingers along the book he holds. “Whatever my father is doing is big. I know you’ve felt the essence emanating from him and how wrong it is. He wouldn’t risk something so important outside the castle walls. There are too many variables—too many people he would need to rely on to keep his secret. Here, he and Varrick can monitor things without seeming suspicious. I’m certain whatever we need to find is under the castle.”
I nod, considering his words. “You’re right.” His brows shoot up at the words. I may not normally speak with such kindness, but perhaps I’ll indulge him once in a while just to see this playful curiosity in his eyes some more. “It makes sense to focus on the castle tunnels. But even that’s a significant area to cover. We’ll need a plan.” I lean in closer, studying the illustration. The drawing is worn, but it’s easy enough to surmise the different landmarks illustrated along the pages. The castle, the guild, the lesser district. There is no mistaking the areas in which these tunnels run.
But why? Why are they there?
Though I wouldn't speak the words aloud, I trust Caspian’s word about the king. But I do not trust Thalion, and fuck if I’ll dismiss this entire map just because the prince believes his father doesn’t make use of it.
Caspian’s eyes meet mine, a determined glint in them. “We’ll start with the areas closest to where Gavriel heard those sounds. Work our way out from there.”
“And what about your guard dog, prince?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “Will he be joining us on this little expedition? Now that you’ve informed him of everything we wanted to keep hidden, that is. ”
The prince sighs, running a hand through his hair. A puff of air sweeps over my skin as he closes the book and steps toward me. I may be angry with him, but it’s a relief to not see the dark circles under his eyes any longer. “Gavriel is loyal.”
“To you,” I point out, tilting my head as I press a finger to the center of his chest and push. He remains still—close enough that the heat of his body warms the chill in mine. “Not to me. Not to what we need to do.”
“He’ll do as I say, angel,” Caspian assures me, his voice firm enough that I know he will welcome no more talk of his guard.
Too bad I do not answer to him.
“And how far does that loyalty reach, hm?” His eyes drop and track the movement of my fingers walking up his chest. I hold back a smile when his muscles tense under my touch. “Gavriel is loyal to his kingdom. The man loves his rules. How can you be certain he won’t turn on you the moment you reveal your treasonous thoughts against the king?”
My hand drifts over his throat and catches his chin, jerking it enough for his gaze to meet mine once more.
I need to move away from him—the hunger and tension emanating from him are pure torture to my traitorous body.
But I don’t move. Not even when he steps closer, dropping his book on the shelf as his arms raise to each side of my head. He leans closer, and I use every bit of control I’ve learned over the years to stabilize my breathing. I cannot stop the flip of my stomach, and I wince as my shoulder jerks, instinctively wanting to cover the violent storm in my abdomen .
Caspian’s lips rise as he searches my face. “How do I know you won’t turn on me the moment I help you find answers?”
I narrow my eyes, a smirk playing at my lips. Smart man, finally thinking with his head instead of his dick. “You don’t.”
His breath hitches, and for a moment, I think he might kiss me. Part of me—a part I desperately try to ignore—wants him to. The memory of his full lips pressing against mine, fighting for dominance as we both take what we want…
But instead he leans in, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispers, “That’s what makes this so exciting, isn’t it?”
A shiver runs down my spine, and I hate myself for it. I loathe how my body responds to him—how my heart races when he’s this close. It’s a weakness I cannot afford.
But one I’m increasingly convinced is worth the cost.
“Exciting isn’t the word I’d use,” I mutter, pushing against his chest. He doesn’t budge, instead pressing the lightest of kisses just under my ear. “Dangerous, perhaps. Foolish, undeniably.”
Caspian chuckles, the sound low and rich and enough that a breath of raw need gets stuck in my throat. “Since when has danger ever stopped the illustrious Silver Wraith?”
Since you became more important to me than anything else.
I jump at my internal admission—something I’ve refused to acknowledge. I shouldn’t be thinking so openly. It’s messy and will cause more issues than I can deal with right now. It is all just repressed lust, anyway; nothing so important it requires more than a few mere heartbeats of my attention .
But the prince’s lips slide over my cheek, brushing faintly against mine, and suddenly I cannot remember why this isn’t a good idea. His hands lower to grab my waist, and I am but a willing hostage as their grip locks and prevents my retreat.
This position, these feelings, are dangerous. But Caspian is right…when have I ever avoided it, instead of falling head first into its waiting embrace?
I open my mouth to retort, but something prickles at the edge of my senses. A presence, watching. Observing. My instincts scream danger.
In an instant, I clamp my hand over Caspian’s mouth and spin us around, pressing him against the bookshelf. His eyes widen, but I silence any protest with a sharp look.
My body is flush against his, every muscle taut as I scan our surroundings. The library appears empty, but the feeling persists. Someone—or something—is here.
I lean in close, a whisper barely leaving my lips. “We’re not alone.”
Caspian’s body tenses, understanding flooding his eyes. He gives a slight nod, his hand moving with a careful slowness to his sides as he considers his options.
He has none, but I let him think, anyway. He is my charge to keep safe, not the other way around.
I maintain my hand over his mouth, using the position to shield him from the darkened opening at the end of the shelves. I tug on my psionic strand and send the essence away. It gets no more than a few feet before a wave of wrongness touches it, and I recoil so hard that the strand slips loose, the essence slamming back into me.
I have never felt something so utterly revolting. Whatever that thing is, it's not natural, and for the first time since meeting the griffin, a trickle of fear settles under my skin. But not fear for myself. No, this thing is something evil—hostile. Its energy is indescribably death, and it will kill the prince and me without hesitation.
But it will not get so far. No one touches him but me.
I step away from Caspian with caution, my movements slow and deliberate. Every sense is on high alert as I inch toward the darkness at the end of the aisle. The wrongness I felt earlier intensifies with each step as a haze of decay and corruption threatens to overwhelm me.
My mind races as I attempt to make sense of whatever the fuck this is. Is it connected to the sounds Gavriel heard in the tunnels? To the Accord? To my parents’ warnings? There are too many questions and not enough answers.
And I’m beginning to get fucking irritated about it.
The wrongness I felt when my essence touched it reminds me of the corruption I’ve encountered before in the throne room, but this…this is different. More potent. More needy.
A memory flashes through my mind—my mother’s face, twisted with fear as she whispered to my father about the balance being disturbed. How they had thought I was sleeping, but I had already been listening for minutes after sinking to the floor from their frightening conversation. Chaos. The word that had repeated in my head for days after hearing them speak. Disappointing that I had not connected this memory before now.
But was this what she meant? Perhaps this is the consequence of the balance or Accord being endangered.
There is a shift in the air, and in one fluid motion, I spin and fling my blade down the aisle, right in between the eyes of—
“What the fuck is that?” Caspian’s words echo the stall in my thoughts.
I walk forward slowly as the creature’s distorted form twists and writhes in pain, its limbs elongated and its skin a sickly yellow. It shudders before falling still, allowing me to study its strange form.
It may be dark in this part of the library, but I am unfortunately able to make out what I’m seeing. The creature is a strange amalgamation of human and…something I do not understand. There are mismatched limbs jutting at odd angles and bright red veins pulsing underneath its near-translucent skin. Its eyes are wild and unseeing, glowing with the same frenzied energy I felt minutes ago.
I crouch next to it, covering my nose as the scent of burnt flesh and blood fills the air. I can only describe the revolting smell as living rot—something that’s not quite dead, but should be.
Even through each uncanny difference, it's obvious this being was human at one point. Everything about it defies explanation. Whatever it is, I can’t shake the sense that its purpose wasn’t to harm Caspian .
Caspian steps closer, stopping next to me as I look up at the horror settling on his features. “Is this…was this a person?” My only response is a nod.
My head whirls at his sharp intake of breath. I turn to see him clutching his arm as a dark stain spreads across his sleeve.
“You’re hurt.” Without thinking, I jump to my feet and grab the lower part of his arm. My forehead creases as I inspect the wound. A clean slice, matching the small blade Caspian holds in his hand. Not one of mine, nor his, so the creature must have thrown it before I cut off its life.
I’m unsure of how to proceed. The wound is deep enough that it needs attention, that much is obvious. And I should be able to heal him with my living affinity…but I’ve never used my vital strand to heal anyone other than myself. I’d be nothing but an embarrassment to the Angel’s will if I attempted to heal him.
Pathetic fucking excuse, but I swipe the thought away and make a decision.
“We need—” I pause with my mouth open when I catch the prince’s eye. He’s staring at me with a fondness I do not deserve. I sigh, because of course I let him see my worry. Clearing my throat, I release his arm and step back. “We need to get you to Elowen.”
The slightest hint of pain flashes through his gaze before his face hardens, and he nods to the creature. “Let’s burn the body—we’ll find nothing we haven’t already gathered, and we cannot leave it here for my father to find. The more he believes us ignorant of him, the better. ”
I raise a brow at the hardness of his tone, but do not stop to question his command. Reaching for my pyro strand, I coax the neglected essence out, demanding it to destroy the body and leave no trace before spinning to stalk from the library.
I do not bother to check if Caspian is following—there’s never been a need to. I realize, with a chilling certainty, that he will always be right behind me with unwavering loyalty. The thought is more relieving than it should be.