The Serpent and the Wolf (Dark Inheritance Trilogy #1)

Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Acolytes crowded around Vaasa as she made her way into the enormous lecture hall.

Upon the stage at the front of the room stood a podium, a small glass of water settled on it. The sages all marched with chins to the sky as they filed into the grand room, walking down the nine levels of black velvet stairs to the front section of the hall reserved for them. The acolytes all took their respective seats in the other sections. Most carried notebooks and pens, some graphite pencils, all tucked between their fingers or behind their ears as they found their friends and waved to each other. Smiles were in abundance, and not a soul said a word to Vaasa.

She sat alone in the shadowy corner without a clue as to the name of the acolyte who took the seat next to her. With short brown hair and mannerisms much like everyone else, the boy didn’t even bother to look her way.

Heads turned as the high sage stood beneath the doorway and each acolyte shot to their feet, eyes raised in respect for the sharp-shouldered and even sharper-tongued woman. Her distinguished robes, made of silk the color of orange clay, trailed behind her as she stepped fully into the room. “Please be seated,” she said, and immediately the sea of acolytes sat down. “And do not bother with greeting the foremen.”

Foremen?

Behind the high sage stood a man not clothed in robes, but rather in distinguished fabrics of red and gold that swept over one shoulder and down his torso, the same shimmering fabric cut in a sharp triangle that hung from his waist and stopped just before his knees. Black pants covered his legs. He stood taller than the high sage, with chestnut hair and his light brown face covered in a closely shaved beard. Calculating eyes traveled along the rows of acolytes, and Vaasa noticed the sheer lack of weapons upon him. He didn’t resemble a warrior, not in the ways Vaasa had expected or known. Rather, his long arms and legs reminded her of roots plunging into the firm ground. Coupled with his wire-frame glasses, the foreman of Dihrah did not appear a foreman at all.

Not like the one she’d known.

All of the acolytes followed instructions, returning their attention to the visiting sage at the front of the room, whose hooded robes gave away his stature and tenure as he glided across the stage to the podium. Stripes of every color ran up the black fabric covering his arms.

Another person walked through the door.

Every ounce of breath in Vaasa’s lungs caught in her throat.

There, in silken black and purple, stood Reid of Mireh.

The room bustled, his reputation enough to make every acolyte sit up and stare.

Unlike the foreman of Dihrah, this broad-shouldered mountain of a man did look every inch the warrior, from his tighter garb to the arsenal of weapons hanging from his hips. Just as she remembered. Sharp daggers and an unforgiving onyx-metal blade seemed to wink at her. Visions of her spread over him, blade in hand and running it along the left underside of his chin, flashed behind Vaasa’s eyes, and her back locked.

Wearing similar sweeping fabric across his shoulder and between his knees, Reid took up almost the entirety of the doorframe. Upturned eyes scanned the room. His face was no longer clean-shaven—not as it had been the night of their wedding. Now, a dark beard hid the scar she was certain she’d left, and his deep brown hair was pulled back from his face, highlighting the rigid line of his jaw. He reminded her of a predator with his terribly keen eyes and even more terrible mass of muscle along every inch of him. That night, she had worried she would discover fangs or some other monstrous feature beneath his deceptive mouth—she hadn’t. A part of her knew he’d let her swipe the blade near his throat, smiled as she did it, really, as if he thought the idea of a woman from Asterya with a knife was funny.

She could, and would, do far worse things with a knife if he came near her.

Adrenaline threatening to summon the magic, she threaded the ink pen between her fingers and closed a fist beneath the attached wooden desk.

Control. She could control this.

If he were here for her, he would be moving already. He would not care if it made a scene or if it made him look like a brute—powerful people took what they wanted and were often praised for it. No, if he knew she was here, he would not have let her remain in her seat.

With her head tilting down at her notes and a little twist of her neck, her now-short raven hair swept over her cheek and eyes and concealed him entirely from her view.

She needed to leave. She had to run far away from here, barter whatever else she had left to go somewhere new. She had failed enormously in Dihrah—had found nearly nothing that would serve her purpose anyway.

It was time to start over. Again.

But she couldn’t very well flee in this moment, or even in the ones following. She hung in a delicate balance; they already wondered whether she belonged here, so if she disappeared, no one would question it. In fact, they would expect it. She would be written off as just another failed scholar.

Though it was new for her, she realized she would rather be a failure than dead.

But if she left too quickly, she might raise suspicions. The foreman of Mireh might find her again.

Vaasa wondered if this was what her life would be—forever on the run from undeserving men more powerful than her, this curse rattling her bones until she made it to a shallow grave.

She’d always wanted to see the world. To make a home in her heart instead of within a border.

Vaasa moved only a few inches at a time, inconspicuous as could be, casual as any other acolyte in a room with not one but two foremen. To her dismay, they didn’t make to leave. Looming against the left wall as if anything this instructor said could be considered interesting, the high sage and foremen remained planted in their seats of honor.

Vaasa had the extraordinary talent of closely watching the lips of those in front of her, pretending to hang on to every word without hearing a single one. She could spend a lifetime in her head and need nothing outside of it to keep her attention. To everyone else, she looked engaged, enthralled even, with the lesson given by this ancient sage.

She did not even know the topic.

The moment the three hours were up, she slid her parchment closed and tucked her pen into her robes, filing past the enormous group of acolytes who swarmed around the foremen. They all vied for the opportunity to speak to them, to prove themselves important and intelligent, and Vaasa knew she needed to prove neither of those things.

She ducked out into the hallway and raced back to her room. She couldn’t stay for long—being holed up in one space would be an awful choice. She would need to hide through dinner, hope diligently that he had not noticed her or, if he had, that he had not been able to figure out her false name and room. Then she would have to find a way out of this city.

Hell, maybe leave this nation altogether.

But not without that tome.

Vaasa snuck down the stairs, a leather satchel hidden beneath the enormous folds of her robes. She hoped no one would find her between the dusty stacks of the library stealing a book that she had no right to.

Foolish. She was absolutely foolish.

The book was the only answer she’d gotten thus far, and she couldn’t bring herself to leave it behind. It wasn’t heavy enough to weigh her down or make it impossible to flee—it would fit in her satchel, which barely had a damn thing in it. And maybe once she’d gotten what she needed from it, she could sell it.

The library was empty this evening, everyone gathered in the great hall to break bread with the two foremen, and Vaasa bet it would be the only time she could swipe the book. By the end of the sixth set of stairs, her thighs rebelled, but she pushed forward until she slid around the corner of the western side, fifth row over, moving seventeen books in. And there it was.

Bound in cracking leather and secured with only a single string, the book looked like salvation. Vaasa plucked it from the shelf, thrust her robes aside, and unbuckled the satchel.

“That is an awful idea,” a smoky, too-familiar voice sounded from the right. The flat vowels and clipped endings curled down her spine, which she promptly straightened.

There, leaning against her table, hands splayed along the wood as if he owned everything in his sight, was the foreman of Mireh.

Neither made an attempt to move, though Vaasa shifted her weight in such a way that she was prepared to spin and run. Death loomed right in front of her; he would kill her for what she’d done to him, for both the embarrassment and the wound. That shallow grave had found its way to her, and everything in her heart rebelled against it.

“Your Highness—” she muttered instinctively.

“We do not refer to our chosen leaders as ‘Your Highness’ here,” he informed her with ease, still not moving, though his eyes did trail down from the top of her head to her toes. He paused on the way back up at her pulse, the one she swore he could see and feel from where he leaned, but then locked his bright eyes with her gaze.

And just as he’d done on that bed, he moved .

Vaasa twisted right and ran, but he was too fast. She made it halfway to the end of the dusty stacks before his arm wound around her waist and lifted her clean from the floor, setting her down with her back against a bookcase. Neither her strength nor her thrashing had done anything to hinder him; the bastard’s execution was flawless. Bookshelves lined the passageway, leaving exits only to the left and right. A table obstructed the left, and stuck between him and a long shelf, she was at least ten paces from the main corridor to her right. She stared straight ahead over his shoulder, eyes focused on the bookshelf opposite her as the chance to escape disappeared.

“I would have told you, had you said goodbye properly, that you should call me by my name,” he said, looming above her and practically daring her to try to run again. His body covered hers. Too close—he was too close.

Fire and rage spread in her belly, and she narrowed her eyes, finally looking up at him. “Would you have? We met so briefly.”

His lips pursed—amusement or displeasure, she couldn’t entirely be sure—and then he leaned back, giving her a little more breadth. “Husband will do, given it’s my other title.”

Vaasa sneered, her upper lip curling. “We are not married.”

“Respectfully, I disagree.”

“Respectfully, I don’t care what you agree or disagree with.”

At that he grinned outright, gazing momentarily at the tome that now lay half open on the ground. “If you steal that, I’ll have no choice but to report it to the high sage. Her punishment is one I have no interest in discovering.”

Could she leave it here? Did she even have a chance of escape? She just needed a way out, a way to freedom and choice, for as long as she could manage it. “And if I don’t steal it?”

“Then it’s one less thing we’ll have to argue about. Marital spats are no fun, or so I’ve heard. Not that my wife has been around long enough for me to discover their level of joy.”

Vaasa’s eyes glittered with rage, and Reid seemed to soak it in. Seemed to want to drink it all up. Was this what he got off on, then? The threats and the control?

She’d let him live because she thought him the exact opposite.

“Let me leave,” she demanded.

“Not until we’ve properly discussed your options.”

“My options?” Vaasa hissed. “We should instead discuss yours. Step out of my way, or we can relive the last time you found yourself on the wrong end of my knife.”

He raised a full brow at the exact moment she pressed the blade hidden in her robes to his stomach. She’d slid it into her hand while he’d glanced down at the book.

The same dagger she’d hidden under their pillows.

Surprise and a small spark of approval flitted through his eyes, dancing in the bits of orange and black that sewed the gold together. He took one step back, then another. Vaasa trailed him closely, pushing with her blade until he backed up against the bookshelf opposite her. Until it was her body controlling the movement of his. Until it was him with no escape.

She dragged the knife up and over his chest, stopping at his throat.

To her shock, he lifted his square chin, baring his neck to her. “Do it.”

Anxiety pumped into her stomach, and she stared wildly at him, their faces a hairbreadth apart, him peering down at her.

“You won’t, will you?” he asked, throat still bared, turning it just a little so the underside of his jaw became visible. The right side now. “Give me another one to match, Wild One.”

Vaasa’s lips parted.

Just as quickly as he’d moved before, his hand curled around her hand holding the knife, fingers tightening on her wrist and pushing her hard. He slid his foot behind her calf to throw her off balance and she started to fall. With one large step, he dragged her against the bookshelf she’d just barely escaped, her own weight doing all the work for him. Wood dug into her back. A yelp of pain threatened to escape, but she bit it down.

“I didn’t think so,” he growled, anger leaking into his words as her knife clanged against the floor. His face pressed closer to hers, no longer giving her the space he’d given before, as if she’d lost the right. “Now shall we speak as humans, or would you rather we continue to dance?”

“Ass,” she snapped back.

“Maybe I do prefer Your Highness .”

Vaasa struggled against the grip he had on her wrists, rage the likes of which she’d hardly known pounding in her head. In her chest. The serpent in her stomach began to slither upward into her throat, and she knew she had moments before it gave her away. “Let me go,” she demanded. “Let me—”

“Listen to me for one moment and I will,” he said.

Her lips pressed shut. Surveying the planes of his face and deciding he meant what he said, she nodded, her restless resistance fading and the curse humming just under the surface.

The foreman of Mireh took a breath, straightening his spine and taking the smallest step back so she had enough room to gulp down air. Unruffled, he relaxed his shoulders like the entire exchange had taken little effort, one hand still pressed to the bookshelf next to her left ear, the other hanging at his side as if he wanted to emphasize the space he gave her. She rolled her wrists and considered an exit strategy, eyeing where the hallway of bookshelves opened into the main corridor.

“Where have you been?” he finally asked.

Vaasa didn’t answer. Instead, she stared at him coldly, waiting to hear these so-called options.

He seemed to understand her thought process, because he changed his approach. With a tilt of his head, he asked, “Has the magic gotten the better of you yet?”

Her heart dropped into her stomach, but she didn’t allow a muscle in her face to twitch. Didn’t allow herself to shift and reveal her hand. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“It covered your hands the night you almost slit my throat. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

Vaasa couldn’t move, didn’t have time to deliberate or calculate a new strategy. Instead, she kept her voice intentionally even. “What do you know about the magic?”

“Plenty.” He offered that one word and nothing more.

Silence coursed between them as Vaasa weighed her options and tried to pretend as though she wouldn’t beg, barter, or steal for the information he kept to himself. “What do you want?” she finally asked.

Knowing he had her right where he wanted her, the foreman of Mireh lifted his hand from the bookshelf and took two wide steps back, giving her all the space she desired. Needed. She could run now; she’d make it to the end of the stacks.

Arms crossing in front of his chest, he said, “I believe we can be of use to each other.”

Vaasa’s brows rose. He wanted to make a deal? What could she possibly have to offer a foreman?

The bookshelf across from her groaned as Reid leaned back against it, the two staring each other down. “Do you know anything about our exchange of power?”

She lied. “I know little.”

He chuckled, crossing his large arms. “Liar.”

Pursing her lips, she shrugged. It was there in his eyes, the harsh glimmer of desire for a title and a sense of importance. Vaasa had spent a lifetime around power-hungry men—she could sniff one out with ease. “I know you’re most likely going to be elected.”

“And could lose a great deal of my reputation, should people learn my Asteryan bride fled after tying me to our wedding bed.”

Vaasa realized it then. What purpose she served him. She knew it with such certainty it shredded itself down her spine, even if it shouldn’t have mattered. “To conquer me would deem you worthy of their votes, then?”

Reid’s eyes glimmered with amusement as he tucked away the growing corners of his lips. “To conquer you would surely leave me dead, Wild One. But you have gravely bruised my ego.”

“Is that so?”

“I made an agreement with your brother in hopes of proving I could solidify an alliance between our people. Your absence threatens to shatter it. I’ve avoided telling him for long enough.”

Dominik didn’t know she’d run away?

“You don’t want an alliance with my brother,” Vaasa warned.

“You’re right. But several of the salt lords do, and I figure if someone is walking into the lion’s den, I’m most qualified.”

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Vaasa leaned a little further into the wooden bookshelf at her back. He wasn’t the most qualified, though she didn’t say so. She wasn’t unfamiliar with the precarious balance between a ruler and the people who kept their economy going. The difference was that in Asterya, her father had always brought the lords and merchants to heel. Could he not handle the men who harvested and sold his salt? “I thought you said your ego was bruised.”

“Bruised, not broken.”

She let out a small snort. “I don’t understand what you want from me. You must know I can’t convince my brother to do anything he doesn’t want to do.”

“I don’t need you for your brother.” He frowned, looking like he couldn’t decide how much to reveal. “No one has taken the headmanship without an equally strong high consort. I need a wife of Asterya who does not renege on our agreement. What does it say about my potential to lead Icruria into an era of trade agreements if I can’t maintain my relationship with your empire?”

Vaasa wanted to say that she wasn’t capable of changing the truth, but instead said, “I don’t want to be married.”

“I’ve gathered that.”

“Then I’m not sure what I can give you other than advice: Being the ruler of anything is a corrupting job, and no man walks out of it the same as when he walked into it. If you value anything about yourself, which I gather you do, given the seeming resilience of your ego, you’ll settle for being a councilor and mind your own.”

Reid mulled over her words with a careful consideration she didn’t expect him to possess. “I may need your wisdom as well, it seems, though I wonder if your pessimistic outlook on leadership derives from an example different from mine.”

“I wonder if every man who steps into a crown thinks the same thing.”

“Good thing there are no crowns involved.”

She snorted again. It didn’t matter if the foremen and headman didn’t don a formal crown—they played God, no matter the metal on their heads or the different titles they gave themselves.

“Plus,” Reid said, “it seems that you, too, need something. If you do not learn to control your magic soon, it will undoubtedly kill you.”

She knew little about what ran beneath her skin, but she knew it wasn’t a gift. It was only a parasite that possessed her. Still, the thought of imminent death sent a shiver down her spine. “It’s a curse. I intend to get rid of it.”

With a strange, disbelieving look, he said, “The black mist leaking on the tips of your fingers originates from my home of Mireh. It is Veragi magic, and I know a master of it.”

Vaasa stared blankly at him, forcing her face to remain neutral despite the pounding in her chest. It was the very word she’d read in that tome, though she’d never heard it aloud.

And he knew someone who had mastered it? In Mireh ?

She believed in many things—even magic and monsters—but she had never believed in coincidence.

“And, of course, I offer shelter, food, and clothing. I might even be willing to replace that fur-lined cloak I gifted you that somehow ended up on the shoulders of a man in the Surmeny Peaks.”

Something in Vaasa’s stomach clenched in embarrassment, though she dismissed the feeling and tried to square her shoulders as if she didn’t have any guilt about the incident. She shouldn’t. He’d bought and bartered for her like cattle, just as every other man who sought power would inevitably do. She was a means to an end. “What is your proposal, then?”

Relief, small yet noticeable, crossed Reid’s features. “I propose the following: You act as my wife for a time, and I will help you discover all you wish to know about Veragi magic.”

Tempting, Vaasa had to admit. And relatively easy. It would mean no more running, and possibly answers.

But it would also mean putting herself directly in Dominik’s path.

“And when do we part ways?” she asked.

He took her matter-of-fact demeanor in stride, not missing a beat. “After the election cycle has settled and you have learned to confidently control or erase the magic—say three years?—I will offer you a legal separation and relocate you to anywhere you desire.”

Her jaw could have dropped to the floor. If they were legally separated, she would no longer give Reid claim to the Asteryan throne. She could run, make a new life elsewhere, and Dominik would not be threatened enough to chase her. “And you’ll deal with the consequences of that? A separation?” Wouldn’t that be counterintuitive to the same image he hoped to cultivate?

“There are few things I fear, Wild One.”

Wild One. If they were to do this, she would have to put a stop to that. Running her tongue along her teeth, she leaned a little easier against the bookshelf. “If I say no, will you let me leave?”

Darkness clouded his eyes as if even the insinuation was absurd. “You are no captive, even if you agree to this. If you are to trust one thing about me, let it be that I will never make you do something against your will.”

“You married me against my will.”

“I was not aware of your objections.”

“Would it have mattered?”

“It would have changed everything.”

The world shifted at those simple words. It would have changed everything .

“If we are to do this,” he said, “then I would expect a willing and engaged accomplice, one I could depend on. I need Icruria to believe that we are taken with each other. That our union is strong enough to represent them.”

Vaasa wanted to remind him that she’d put a knife to his throat twice now, though the words felt like a step backward. She couldn’t read him, couldn’t see past the simmering hope and hunger in his eyes, past the determination to do whatever it took to obtain the one thing he’d ever wanted.

She hated every man who had put the world beneath their feet and decided they had a right to own it. Decided people were nothing but pawns crafted to achieve that very goal.

Yet he did not look at her as a pawn tonight. He looked at her like a partner.

To go with him was the quickest and safest option, the one with the most fruitful benefits. If emotion was taken out, the decision was easy.

“I leave tomorrow,” Reid muttered, “at sunrise. I’ll be in the high sage’s office awaiting your presence, if that is what you so choose.”

He turned on his heel, kicking her knife back toward her as he swaggered to the end of the corridor.

“And if I don’t come?” Vaasa dared to ask, watching his shoulders go taut at her question.

He stopped, turned his head to the side to peer at her. “Then I will assume that is your answer and offer you a legal divorce whenever you ask for it.”

Vaasa let out a deep breath.

And the foreman of Mireh disappeared around the stacks, leaving her alone with nothing but her stunned breath and her confusion.