Chapter 2
Chapter
Two
For several seconds, his words echoed around me, gaining no traction or comprehension in my mind.
He simply sat there, watching me, judging me.
I swallowed the instinct to rage against his proclamation and said, as calmly as I could, “And why might my death be necessary?”
“Because that is the rules of the game—the key players on either side must die for a winner to be declared.”
“That is an utterly stupid rule.”
He shrugged, as if it was of no matter to him. And I guess it wasn’t. I was a player in a game, nothing more, nothing less.
At least to him.
“But... how can any side consider themselves a winner if their main protagonist dies?”
“In this particular case, while winning is vital for both sides, so too is a fitting tribute to the vanquished. Is not the blood of the strongest fighter considered such by many in your world?”
Only by the psychos, I wanted to say, but once again resisted. “So why did your first daughter fail?”
“She killed the key, but she did not destroy the Harpē and therefore left open the ability for him to rise. Death found her because she had not the strength to fight the Ninkilim, who believed her blood would sustain their god until the Harpē was found.”
“But even if she had destroyed the Harpē, death would have found her, true?”
“As I said, it is a requirement.”
I got up to pace. I couldn’t help it, because if I just sat there, staring at him, anger would get the better of me.
Or, worse still, the inner darkness, which continued to roil deep inside, fighting restrictions I was barely keeping in place, would break free and attack.
I rather suspected that was what he wanted, what he was waiting for.
Because we both knew that once the darkness had truly seen the light of day, it would not be put back into its box.
“Is there any way of breaking said rule?”
“Breaking, no. Bending? Possibly.”
“What if I simply refused to play the game?”
“Such a refusal will lead to unwanted consequences for all those you care about. I might prefer to play within the rules, but our opponents often walk deep in the gray.”
I dropped back into the chair and wearily rubbed a hand across my eyes. A migraine was brewing, and I wasn’t sure if it was this place, this situation, or the fact that I’d only gotten out of the hospital a few hours ago after being at death’s door for several days.
“Then what if I find and kill the opposition’s key, as well as all the other major players? Would that be enough?”
“No, because chopping off the head of the Hydra rarely results in the whole beast dying. It simply results in more heads being produced.”
“But it is possible?”
“Anything is possible, but do not think you can avoid finding the Harpē. That was my first child’s option, and it is not a road that will be allowed this time.”
“Have you got any good news to impart?” I growled. “Or did you just come here to completely wreck all my dreams and hopes for the future?”
Amusement lurked briefly again. “You must accept that which brews within you. You must also trust the instincts inherited from your mother, especially when it comes to those around you. You must remember that sometimes control cannot be taught. Sometimes it comes from letting yourself be overwhelmed.”
“And once again we’re back to statements that hold nothing but meaningless platitudes.”
“Nothing I have said here is mere platitudes, child. I have given you a path forward, and a means of survival, and that is more information than my first child had. What happens next is completely up to you.”
And with that, he rose and walked away.
I thrust to my feet. “Wait!”
He didn’t. The door closed behind him and the cloud chairs disappeared, leaving me alone with the shadows that still lurked beyond the brown-streaked black walls.
I swore softly but vehemently, then turned as pale green light speared across the darkness behind me.
Liadon’s orb bobbed midair several yards away.
I’d initially believed it was nothing more than a sphere of light through which she spoke and which she used as a guide for those of us not of this place.
I now suspected it had some sentience. Not a ghost, as such, more an otherworldly will-of-the-wisp.
“How much of all that did you hear?” I asked her.
“This is my world and my sanctuary,” she replied, her soft voice warm and yet as otherworldly as her domain. “I hear and see all.”
“Any opinions?”
“Plenty, but I must remain neutral in the games of god and man. My orb will lead you out.”
“Then Borrhás considers our business done?”
Borrhás was a god of the cold north wind and the bringer of winter, and my aunt had used his relic—a horn capable of encasing people, buildings, or even entire cities in ice—in an attempt to claim vengeance on all those she deemed responsible for killing her daughter.
She’d come damn close to succeeding with me.
Unfortunately for her, Borrhás had been rather annoyed that his relic was being used in such a manner, and my aunt—along with the witch who had wielded the horn for her—were now forever entombed in Borrhás’s ice somewhere in this underground labyrinth.
“Indeed,” Liadon murmured. “He thanks you for your swift action.”
“I dare say anyone threatened with having their entire city encased in ice would also have acted in a similarly swift manner.”
Liadon laughed, the sound surprisingly warm. “Indeed yes. Now please, you should go. You have been too long in this place, and it will take its toll on you, godling or not.”
Her words had the intensity of the migraine increasing, and I quickly rummaged through my purse to find some painkillers.
I swallowed them dry, grimacing at the taste, then followed the orb through a different exit door back into the familiar black walls of a corridor.
Which corridor was the question of the hour, because I had a feeling the paths in this place were far from static.
“Would it be too bold of me to ask if a search can be done for any mention of my mother in the more recent council files?” I asked after a few minutes of twists and turns.
“Bold? Yes, definitely, but I shall see what can be done. No promises.”
Which is more than what I’d gotten the last time I’d mentioned it. “Thank you.”
“Welcome.”
The light continued to lead me through a number of glassy black tunnels, eventually depositing me at the forbidding metal door that would take me back into the real world.
I glanced at the orb. “Thank you for your assistance.”
It spun briefly, then winked out of existence. I took a deeper breath and continued on. The door slid open to reveal a lone figure leaning back against the metal railing, a large paper cup in one hand and his phone in the other.
Mathi Dhār-Val—who was not only a former lover but also the liaison between me and Deva’s Fae Council—was a Ljósálfar elf, and like all of them, he was lean in build but absolutely divine to look at, blessed with golden skin and hair, fine, almost angelic features, and eyes the color of summer skies.
We’d been lovers for nearly ten years before splitting eight or so months ago, and although I’d always known he was not my one true love—and could never be, in fact, given he was a highborn light elf, and they only married their own kind and rank—I’d always enjoyed his company.
In fact, he was one of only two people who would fit into the category of a “best” friend.
Darby Riagáin—a light elf I’d met during our school years and who was now dating my brother—was the other.
He glanced up as I approached and put his phone away. “I was beginning to think I’d have to break into Liadon’s domain and rescue you.”
His tone was coolly distant—a trait all light elves had, as they tended to present an emotionless facade to the world in general—but warm amusement danced through his eyes.
“Why? How long was I in there?”
“Three hours.”
“Three? You jest.”
“I,” he said severely, “am a Ljósálfar elf. We never jest.”
A laugh escaped, but it was quickly followed by a wince. I resisted the urge to rub my forehead, not wanting to give him cause for alarm. “What in the hell have you been doing for three hours? You and boredom are not great companions.”
“Indeed, we are not.” He handed me the cup and fell in step beside me as I headed for the stairs. “Which is why I was on the phone. I finalized one deal, and made an initial offer on another.”
Which explained his upbeat mood. Closing a deal was an aphrodisiac to light elves. I took a sip of the drink, immediately discovering it was not only tea, but damn hot. “Given the temperature of this drink, I take it you also sent poor Henrick on multiple runs?”
Henrick was his chauffeur, and one of two he used regularly. While Mathi was quite capable of driving, he—like many elves who lived and worked within the somewhat crowded boundaries of Deva’s old town—preferred to be driven rather than dealing with the daily hassle of traffic themselves.
“Poor Henrick is extremely well paid to do my bidding and offer no opinion.” He pulled a block of chocolate out of his jacket pocket and handed it to me. “We also acquired this.”
I dropped a quick kiss on his cheek. “You are a darling.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “We do have a meeting with the council at three—which, I may point out, is now a mere five minutes away—so I thought it a prudent step after your recent hospital stay and your tendency to overdo it. Which you obviously have, given the current squinty nature of your eyes. You’ve taken pain relief? ”
“Yes, and since when did we have a council meeting booked?”
“As of about two hours ago.”
“That’s all rather sudden, isn’t it?” I handed him the tea, broke off a row of chocolate, then tucked the rest into my purse and retrieved my drink. “Has something happened?”