Prologue - 12 Years Earlier #2
The gloomy foyer was gilded with gold, and the soft light made the adamere threaded through the stone in our home glitter.
She stole Jett’s pain, slowly leaching it from him, and channeled it like a conduit from his body to hers, into the statue.
The figurine vibrated and danced in her palm, and a crack split its side.
Tiny grains of clay dust spilled onto the dark floor.
My brother’s stiff body slowly relaxed, and his breathing evened out and quietened.
But my mother’s breath quickened and became labored.
Her chest rose and fell, and deep furrows carved themselves into her forehead and around her features.
Slowly…so slowly, the otherworldly light faded, and she let out a weary sigh.
She opened her eyes and cupped a slender hand beneath Jett’s chin, tilting his face up. “Better?”
He nodded, but refused to leave her side.
Careful of her fingers, I took the statue from her. The residual heat in the statue warmed my rough finger pads. I frowned at the crack running down its length. “Maybe we could glue it back together?” I had some PVA in our craft room.
“Glue a rare artifact that is nearly two thousand years old?” my mother said slowly.
I shrugged, breaking into a grin. “Dad’s probably got some superglue somewhere.”
She broke out into a laugh that sputtered apart as she winced, clutching her stomach. “Oh…my ribs…”
A sudden cry had us swinging around.
Aunt Valarie raced down the hallway in her painted speckled shirt and capris, her braid slapping against her chest as she ran.
Ferne clung to her back, arms wrapped around my aunt’s shoulders like the cheeky monkey she was.
“T-Tabitha!” my aunt cried once more as she reached us, falling to her knees.
Leaning down, I unhooked Ferne from my aunt and swung my baby sister into my arms. Orange paint matted a few of the glossy locks together.
She squirmed in my grip, and her chubby toddler hands found my cheeks, squishing them together.
I stuck out my tongue, rolling my eyes dramatically.
She burst into a giggle. Her unique irises—dusky blue, with clouds of pink and streaks of violet—shone with mirth. “Gray-Gray!”
“I’m fine, really,” my mother replied to my aunt, trying not to wince. “I mean, sure, my spine might be fractured, my ankle is shattered, as well as my arm and this finger.” She twisted her wrist gingerly and presented her middle finger, broken badly.
“Mom flipped you off,” I snickered, jabbing Caidan in the ribs. He shirked aside and burst into a cackling laugh.
She blinked. “Pardon?” Then her gaze narrowed as she put it together.
Both of us cut short our laughter and tried for studious, repentant expressions, suddenly interested in everything else in the entranceway.
“I just need a moment to lie here and mend,” she reassured my aunt.
“You know…” She looked upward toward the vaulted ceiling, her lips slightly curled into her mouth, as a shudder of pain racked her body.
“I’ve never seen the foyer from this view before.
It really is quite a majestic home.” Aunt Valarie ran soothing strokes up and down my mother’s arm.
My mother returned a small, grateful smile before looking at me. “Are you set for tomorrow, Gray?”
I was to go with my father to the office, which wasn’t truly an office as the world of mortals thought of it.
I was to accompany him to House Novak’s estate.
They were our liege, and we oversaw the crime lords, cartels, and syndicates that sold our magic-infused drugs.
Tomorrow was a sort of bring-your-kid-to-work day.
I was excited but also apprehensive to be entering the world of Horned Gods for the very first time.
“Weapons bag packed,” I replied, shifting Ferne to my hip and widening my stance.
“Suit?”
I screwed up my face. “No fucking way—”
“Gray! You know how I feel about that kind of vulgar language. You’re on dish duty for the week.”
No fucking way! So fucking unfair!
I cocked an eyebrow. “How come Dad gets away with it?”
“Trust me, he doesn’t—”
“He never seems to be put on dish duty,” I grumbled, batting aside Ferne’s hands as she pinched my brow, pulling the skin taut.
Dish duty was a punishment that my mother liked to deal out to each of us when we crossed her line.
Normally, it was the duty of the kitchen staff.
There were a shitload of dishes to be done every single day, and it sucked ass to be put on it.
“No, he has his…own punishment dealt out.” Her mouth twitched with amusement, which kind of made me feel like Dad didn’t receive the same sort of punishment we did. “And I’m not raising your father. I’m raising you. You are representing our House, therefore, you will wear a suit.”
I heaved a sigh, trying a different tactic. “How about a halfway deal? Jeans—”
“A full suit, Gray.”
“GAH, Mom!”
A flash of annoyance had me huffing a breath through my nose. Then, as Ferne started tugging at my messy hair, pulling tight enough that my scalp stung, I realized all I needed to do was change out of my suit after my mother last saw me…and she’d never know. “Sure, Mom, whatever, a full suit.”
My mother continued to stare at me, long and hard, as if she were trying to figure out if I’d given in too easily—hellsgate, I sure did, Mom—but my aunt distracted her when she glanced up the wide and grand staircase and began to say, “H-h-h-h-h—”
My mother reached out and gently squeezed Aunt Valarie’s hand.
Aunt Valarie inhaled deeply, her body relaxing as she took her time. “H-h-how…”—a pause, a breath—“f-far…d-did you fall?”
“Pretty much all the way down. I tripped over something that shouldn’t have been there.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Caidan still. He’d gone up the staircase to collect the wicker basket, along with my mother’s gardening gloves, and was picking up all the strewn flowers and foliage that littered the steps.
My aunt’s features darkened, and her mouth parted as if she were going to speak, but my mother carried on talking, changing subjects.
“I’ve got a few things to do tomorrow in Ascendria.
” She raised her broken arm, now completely healed, and wiggled her fingers.
I noticed her pale complexion had bloomed with color, and her gaze had lost the haze of pain that had shadowed her bright green eyes.
Smiling up at my aunt, she said, “You’re welcome to come along too, Valarie. ”
My aunt rarely left the estate. She was warm and vibrant, but when the Houses gathered, she was a quiet soul, kept to herself and seldom spoke to others. The embarrassment of her stutter stopped her from experiencing life, which was a shame.
She took a breath and rubbed her lips together. A line deepened between her brows as she concentrated and relaxed enough to push the words out fully formed. “Are you meeting Marissa?”
Marissa was one of my mother’s oldest friends. She hadn’t visited in months, and I missed those lazy lawn afternoons listening to their easy banter.
“No, not this time. I’ve got a few errands to run in the city. It could be a fun day out. Maybe while I’m out and about, you could visit the lake or the galleries,” my mother enticed her. “We could meet up afterward. High Tea at the Monarch Tower, perhaps?”
For a moment, I saw my aunt spark with life at the idea of visiting the art galleries. But I could taste her indecision on my tongue like the taste of tea that had too much milk, neither here nor there. There was yearning too, and a crest of self-doubt.
Do it, do it, do it—I mentally chanted.
I thought she was going to say yes. I think I was holding my breath in anticipation. Caidan too. No one moved. Not even Ferne.
Her shoulders fell and she seemed to shrink in on herself.
My aunt scratched her paint-speckled arm, scrunching her nose.
She shook her head, glancing down as her hand dropped to her lap, and she rubbed the flat of her palms against her thighs.
“A-A-A-” She took a breath, her brow furrowing in concentration.
“A-Another time, perhaps. I’m almost done with your portrait, and I want to get it finished. ”
“Really?” my mother exclaimed, clapping her hands.
My aunt was an incredibly talented artist. Her latest piece was a portrait of my mother in her beloved garden of white roses.
We’d all seen the progression of the artwork over the last couple of weeks, but my mother hadn’t.
My aunt had planned for it to be a grand reveal in a casual setting over a picnic dinner.
My mouth watered at the thought of my dad’s churrasco.
His special marinades, fresh herbs, spicy sauces, and that subtle smokiness infusing the grilled meat. So fucking yummy!
My aunt straightened, beaming. “By t-tomorrow, I will be.”
“When I get back home from Ascendria tomorrow, you’ll show me then?”
Aunt Valarie pretended to think, pursing her lips to the side and glancing upward. “Hmm… Maybe.”
My mother swatted her arm playfully, and Aunt Valarie broke into a glorious smile, one that warmed my soul and also fucked me off that no one outside our family got to see it.
Jett raised his head. “Can I come with you, Mom?”
She tapped his nose. “Not this time, Jett. You and Caidan have lessons with the governess tomorrow, and later, weapons training.”
My mother gingerly worked her back, then rose, helping Jett to his feet. She popped her hands on her waist, arching her spine, rolling her neck and shoulders, rotating an ankle and arm. “Ah,” she sighed. “Better,” she smiled.
Caidan handed her the wicker basket full of white roses, and she murmured her thanks. She glanced down at Jett, who was pushing his wavy hair back from his forehead. “I was about to put these in vases up in the family room. Want to help?”
Jett flashed a toothy grin, thought better of it, then shrugged nonchalantly. “Sure, I’ve got time.”