Nevermore (The Never Sky #2)

Chapter 29

29

T he prince never came. He’d changed directions. Thorne, however, arrived shortly after. I’d given myself away for nothing. And now, sitting at a table upstairs in the Hollow, with Harlow and Thorne on either side of me, I knew the charade was up. At least part of it, anyway.

“I’m not trying to rat you out,” Harlow said, balancing her little blade on the table. “But we have to know these things.”

“Will someone please explain to me what’s going on here?” Thorne asked, his hard gaze shifting between the two of us, hands folded on top of the ledger he’d gone to retrieve.

Harlow looked at me, clearly giving me the option to tell him before she did it herself. I knew it didn’t come from a dark place. Not from jealousy or distrust, but because having magic was so, so dangerous here. And I’d been so reckless with it, not knowing any better.

“I didn’t know it at the time, but the reason the Cimmerians put me in the Maw… was because one was close enough to detect the magic I was using that day. I hadn’t seen the one that came for me until it was too late.”

Thorne looked at me, sliding his glasses down his nose. “And?”

I glanced at Harlow and back to him. “I have magic.”

Still confused, he looked between us. “I know. What happened?”

“Well, nothing happened,” Harlow said, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “Paesha thought the prince was coming, and that was all.”

“He was.” I argued. “He was just a few blocks away before he turned.”

Thorne leaned forward, his intense gaze pinning me in place. “I knew you had magic, but not its ability. How did you know exactly where he was?”

I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. There was no point in trying to hide it anymore, not with them both staring at me expectantly.

“I can kind of sense things. If I’ve touched and seen something, my power allows me to find it. If I focus on someone, I can track their location, sometimes see through their eyes for a moment.” Though I hadn’t been able to see a single target since I’d been to Wisteria, come to think of it. Even the way my magic had alerted to Farris’s proximity earlier felt different. Off. I hadn’t used enough power to really test what it was like here, but it wasn’t the same as home. That much was certain.

Thorne sat back, his expression unreadable as he processed. I was surprised he didn’t take his damn ledger out and start making notes.

Beside me, Harlow let out a low whistle. “That’s a rare gift. No wonder the Cimmies were after you.”

“It’s not something I advertise,” I replied, my voice tight. “For obvious reasons.”

“But why did you lie when we asked?” Harlow sat forward, resting her elbows on the table.

“Because I didn’t trust you.”

“Fair enough,” she answered. “But wh?—”

“Thorne!” Archer’s sharp, urgent voice echoed down the hall.

“We’re in here,” Harlow answered back.

The door slammed open to reveal Archer heaving as he leaned into the frame. “He’s coming. Charlie spotted him. You ready?”

Thorne took a long, deep breath. “As ready as I can be. Make sure he sees the children on his way up. Don’t hide them. He needs to know what we’re doing here is not selfish.”

We waited in silence, Thorne thrumming a finger along the table as the minutes passed by. The heavy tread of footsteps echoed in the hallway, growing louder with each passing second. I glanced at Thorne, noting the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers flexed against the worn leather of his book.

The door swung open with a creak, revealing a towering figure silhouetted against the dim light of the hall. Alastor stepped into the room, his presence filling every corner, pulling the shadows in close like a cloak.

He was a massive man, easily matching Thorne’s considerable height. Though I knew him to be old, ancient even, he didn’t look a day over forty. But he had that way about him. The undeniable attractiveness that marked him as a god. Broad shoulders strained against the fine black fabric of a buttoned shirt, the garment doing little to conceal the corded muscle beneath. But it was his face that drew the eye. Harsh, brutal beauty, all sharp angles and cruel lines. A latticework of intricate tattoos covered every inch of exposed olive skin below his jaw, the dark ink seeming to writhe and shift in the flickering candlelight.

Piercing green eyes swept the room, lingering on each of us in turn as Wee Willy and Archer took their seats at the table. The god, who looked more like a criminal than any criminal I’d ever seen, sat last, steepling his tattooed fingers, letting his presence swallow the room whole.

“Thorne Noctus,” he said, finally.

“Alastor Erevar.”

The two men stared hard at each other, an unspoken war happening before another word was said. After a long moment, Thorne leaned forward, his voice low and even. “I asked you here to discuss a proposal. One that could benefit us both, as I’m sure you know.”

The god’s lips curved into a humorless smile, revealing a flash of white teeth. “Always straight to… present business with you. No time for pleasantries? And here I thought we were old friends.”

Thorne ignored the jab, pushing the ledger across the table. “The Fray is expanding. We need more goods than ever before, but our current trade routes are becoming problematic. The Cimmerians grow bolder by the day, and more and more are falling to the streets.”

Alastor flipped open the ledger with a casual flick of his wrist, his eyes scanning the neat rows of numbers and coded entries. “And you think I can solve this little dilemma of yours? Oh, no. Not even that. You’re hoping I care enough.”

“The Vale is the most extensive black market network in the realm. Your routes are untouchable, your methods unparalleled. An alliance between our organizations could change everything. With your resources and our reach, we could keep the people here fed and clothed, even in the face of Farris’s tyranny. The Salt need us now more than ever.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you cared. But I think we both know that’s not true. You’d have to have a heart to care.” Alastor studied Thorne for a long moment, his green eyes glittering with a predatory light. “That was a pretty speech, delivered with conviction. But this isn’t about altruism. The Fray need my help to survive. Without access to the Vale’s dark corners, you’ll wither on the vine, choked out by Farris and his dogs. Don’t circle the truth, Noctus.”

Something in my heart twitched. This wasn’t my battle. It made no difference to me if Alastor agreed to do business with Thorne or not. In fact, I wasn’t sure if I needed Alastor more than I needed Thorne at this point. But I had to draw a line somewhere. I couldn’t leave this room and look into the faces of those children downstairs and not see myself years ago, hungry, tired and all alone. The resources keeping everyone here warm and fed would eventually run out. And then what?

Thorne’s jaw clenched, but remarkably, he held the god’s gaze steadily. “We’re the only thing standing between the people and starvation. Between hope and despair. Surely that means something. If there are no people, there’s no one to worship the gods. No power to be grown.”

Alastor slid the ledger back across the table with ease. “I think I’ll pass.”

I leaped from my seat so fast my chair fell over. “How could you walk by those children and deny them a meal? You’re the God of Lost and Broken Things? Can’t you see how broken this entire place is?”

“Some give me that title, but not all. I must say, you care more than I thought you would, Huntress.” He shifted forward, all of his godly attention on me. “Those eyes are incredible. You’re a perfect blend of the gods you descend from.”

I couldn’t process what he’d said. Stumbling past the fact that he’d called me Huntress, a name surely given to him by Reverius. He’d known exactly who I was, what my power was. But I focused on the other words until my knees felt weak.

“Gods?”

A knowing smirk played at the corners of Alastor’s mouth. I could feel Thorne’s eyes on me, searching, questioning, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the god.

“You didn’t know,” Alastor stated, his voice a low purr. It wasn’t a question.

“Everyone with power descends from gods. Of course I knew.”

Of one, but not two.

He shook his head slowly. “No, no, Huntress. Born of two, loved by two, your reincarnated soul descended. Not the body. Not the blood.”

“Are you saying…” I stepped closer, moving around Harlow until his presence was nearly choking me. “Two gods had a baby, and a new god was not born?”

The tattoos on his skin seemed to darken with his eyes. “You’re asking the wrong questions.” He stared directly at Thorne as he answered. “Gods are not born like mortals. Gods are born of emotion. Etherium is full of demi-gods, waiting around to kill their parents and take their place or give up and descend to a mortal realm.”

“I think we’re done here,” Thorne said, standing at the other end of the table. “I do hope you reconsider working with the Fray, Alastor. So, so many people could suffer if you do not.”

“Don’t threaten me, mortal . You have no idea the things I’m capable of here. The things I’ve dreamed of doing. Let me make myself perfectly clear. If I ever see you again, you’ll wish to be broken and beg to be lost.”

Again, a battle happened in the silence that followed. In the way Alastor rose slowly from the table. In the way that his knowing eyes burned through Thorne before flicking to Archer as he said, “All paths, broken or whole, lead to the prince. But you already know that, don’t you, Archie boy?”

His tattoos shifted as he made one final glance toward me and stormed out. Something in my soul rattled, longing to reach out to him. To force him to tell me more. Was that message really meant for me? Why had he used that word?