Chapter 2
Basten
“Sabine!”
I drop to my knees, catching her hand before it falls. Her skin burns against mine, but I force myself to hold on through the pain.
The ground shakes. The walls groan. Vines continue to thrust up through the floor, tearing apart stone like paper. The raging Ramvik River churns through the room, drenching everyone up to our knees.
“Stop,” I beg, though I’m not sure if I’m speaking to her or whatever’s inside her. “Please, you have to stop. You’re hurting people.”
Her head jerks, eyes flashing—but I don’t recognize the look in them.
Fear crawls through my chest so fast I choke on it.
Gods help me, this is the woman I love. Even like this. But love feels small against the force she’s become.
From the corner of my eye, I see the protective fortress of vines around us draw back, slowly slinking down into the floorboards until they’ve all but vanished.
Beyond, the five fae gods rise slowly to their full heights, brushing wrinkles from their clothes, tucking their hair back into place. I pick up on a few quickened heartbeats among the lot, but those soon return to a steady, if not also wary, patter.
Sabine’s show of power rattled them—but maybe it wasn’t entirely a surprise.
“Little violet.” I clasp Sabine in my arms, smoothing the sweat-soaked hair off her forehead. “I’m here. You’re going to be okay.”
She murmurs something that not even my ears can pick up on.
I brush my lips against her ear and breathe, “Hold on, little violet.”
At the same time that I’m smoothing blood flecks off her cheek, I’m all too aware of the panic spreading through the castle.
My godkissed hearing picked up on the servants’ terrified screams as soon as Sabine unleashed her earthquake.
Someone on the first floor now cries out in pain, pinned by a falling ceiling joist. A gaggle of maids cluster in the Twilight Garden outside, frightened words spilling from their lips as they try to understand what has happened.
I mean, I get it.
Nature just came fucking undone.
My gaze shifts to Sabine, carefully studying the contours of her face.
There’s a part of her that is—and always will be—my perfect violet.
I feel it in my gut, missing memories be damned.
That tender curve of her mouth, the readiness to smile at any passing nuthatch.
There’s a brightness in her eyes—still hopeful, somehow, even though they’re unfocused.
And yet.
Silver fey lines cut down her smooth temples, running down her neck to disappear under her traveling clothes. Her incisors have grown, flashing like a predator’s.
I have to admit it: She’s not just a girl who sings with spiders anymore.
She’s as dangerous as any fae god.
Because…fuck, I can hardly say it.
She’s one of them.
Heavy footsteps approach, and the flutter of unsureness in my chest tucks itself away, replaced by a protective roar.
Immortal Vale’s iron-tipped boots come into view. Anger tightens like a fist in my gut as I glare up at him.
“What’s happening to her?” I bark. “She came alive—only to weaken again.”
“The Gloaming.” Vale speaks with irritating calmness as he strokes a hand down his silver beard, seemingly unbothered by the decimated throne room. “It happens whenever a god is awakened from their human body. The transition is not gentle. It’s violent, it’s painful. We all went through it.”
He lifts a hand toward the other fae. Now that the river has drained back through the floor cracks, Samaur is righting one of the toppled wooden chairs.
Iyre hunts through the overturned wine bottles for one with a few sips remaining.
She finds one, and Artain tries to swipe it from her, but she bares her teeth at him like a snake.
“It’s always hardest on her, however.” Vale’s voice hitches as he gazes, softer now, on his daughter. “On Solene.”
I wince at the name.
So, there it is.
Immortal Solene, the Wilderwoman, Goddess of Nature.
The muscles along my shoulders pull tight, wanting to resist the reality in front of me. But what’s the point of fighting it? The bitter truth is out, now, and there’s no going back to the way things were.
“You made her into Solene?”
Vale scoffs. “She always was Solene. I merely awakened her true self.” He draws a step closer. “Give her to me, Lord Basten. She’s more special than you know.”
I snatch the Serpent Knife off the floor and brandish it with white knuckles. “Not another fucking step forward.”
Vale stops, eyes on me instead of the blade in my hand, a curl of condescension riding the corner of his mouth. “There is no need for a blade, Lord Basten. You are protected. My daughter and I sealed a fae bargain that cannot be broken. For better or worse, all of our fates are bound, now.”
I shove to my feet, raking the hair off my forehead.
“It’s her neck I’m defending, you ass. Not mine.”
His right eye twitches at the brazen insult. I can smell the fury radiating off him, and for a second, I’m sure the only thing keeping my head on my shoulders is that very bargain he mentioned.
Finally, he explains in strained patience, “The Gloaming drains an awakening fae of their power.”
Though his words are slow and calm, I can pick up on the waver of urgency behind them. His eyes flick to the window, then back. The side of his jaw twitches.
He continues, “Her strength isn’t waning. It’s simply hungry. If she doesn’t replenish her spent fey, then she’ll spiral further out of control until her earthquakes bring the entire kingdom to the ground.”
At my feet, Sabine whimpers. I drop to my knees, hugging her close as she moans through the pain. By the gods, I want to tell Vale to fuck off straight to the underworld.
But for Sabine, I rein in my temper.
I ask warily, “Hungry for what?”
“Offerings,” Vale spits, rising impatience rushing his words. “From her altar. So, surrender my daughter to me, and I will get her the sustenance she requires.”
He stretches out a claw-like hand. I pin Sabine tighter to my chest, a growl ripping from my throat, as I bite out, “Like hell. I’ll take her.”
I hoist Sabine in my arms. Her eyelids flutter up at me as her pupils swim back and forth, disoriented. A groan rumbles from deep within her chest.
In the distance, a rumble of thunder answers her in a preternatural echo.
“Basten,” she whispers. “I’m hungry.”
There’s a feral snarl to the way she says the word that sends a lick of unease crawling up my spine. Just for a moment, I’m not sure who I hold in my arms—if it’s Sabine, or something ancient wearing her skin.
But just as fast, that worry disappears.
What am I thinking? She’ll always be my violet.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur against her sweat-soaked temple. “Always. Through any storm.”
More thunder rumbles, closer this time.
Even ones of your own making, I think with a twist in my gut.
“Open the gods-damn doors,” I bark at Captain Tatarin, who stands closest to the exit.
The door hinges are broken, but the captain manages to push one side open.
As I head into the hall, my heart bucks.
Sabine feels dangerously light in my arms. The tang of her spilled blood clogs my nose and mouth, turning my stomach.
Her heartbeat is sluggish. Faint. Not like the other fae, whose hearts clap strong as iron bells.
A headache throbs behind my right eye as I stride down the maze-like hallways. At least these passages are undamaged; Sabine’s ire was limited to the throne room.
A creeping daze hits me with every step. I’ve always been cool-headed in a crisis. Hell, I can’t count how many battles I’ve been in. But this time, I don’t know what I’m facing.
I don’t know who my opponent is—if I should fear her as well as protect her.
Wide-eyed servants hurry out of my way. I can hear each of their breathless whispers to one another, threaded through with fearful awe.
The rumors are true, a lady’s maid says. It’s Immortal Solene!
She raised the very Ramvik River from its bed, a sentry answers. Three people were swept out the window—they’re lucky to still be alive.
A half dozen more are with the castle healers from falling debris.
There are always sacrifices with the fae. It will be worth it in the end, you’ll see. The sixth fae has awakened from slumber—only four more still sleep!
I tuck their gossip into a pocket of my mind to process later, focused only on the weakened girl in my arms. With every step, it’s like she’s evaporating before my eyes.
I clutch her harder, speeding my steps.
“Hold on, Sabine. Hold on, sweetheart.”
The servants, wary and frightened, are hesitant to open the exterior door, so I kick it the rest of the way open, slamming it back against the wall, and stride across the pathway to the Garden of Ten Gods.
From this angle, the ten gods’ statues seem to loom higher than the Vallen Mountains in the distance.
Townspeople who have come to present their offerings cower, gasping as they part to make room for me to pass.
A million scents assault me from gifts spread on the altars.
Sticky bowls of wildflower honey. Over-ripe pomegranates.
Scented rosewood beads. A raw lamb haunch. Spiced wine by the barrel.
I swallow back the bile rising in my throat as I shove my way past wide-eyed onlookers, straight to the altar resting at the base of Immortal Solene’s statue.
My hand falls on the closest edible object—a pomegranate.
I break the thick peel with my thumb, then nudge the fruit toward her lips. “Sabine, here. Eat.”
As soon as the dark red juice drips onto her lips, her bleary eyes focus pinprick-sharp. Her tongue darts out to taste the drop.
She gasps as if lightning has struck her core.
She wriggles out of my arms like a spitfire cat, and I barely manage to set her bare feet on the ground before she’s clawing at the broken fruit.