19. Syrus #2
I don’t miss the way Lady Jing rolls her eyes. She’s never been a big proponent of the war, thinking it stifles trading opportunities with the humans.
“You already keep the snares muzzled with all those rules of yours,” Kaliban continues, crossing his huge arms across his chest. “But then I suppose a demon who’s never fought in the war doesn’t give a shit about those who lay down their lives so he can live in peace.”
My jaw clenches and I flex my hands, itching to use them in some creative way to make Kaliban take that back. I can’t afford to show him that he’s hit on a sore point for me.
“You know I don’t have a choice on that front, Lord Kaliban. And I remember standing with you when I could, when it was your own blood disturbing the peace.”
Kaliban’s red eyes flare with anger, and his hand goes to his waist. For a moment, I think he’s reaching for his weapon, and then I recognize the buckle on the sheath he’s wearing.
It belonged to his son, Grata—he was wearing it when Kaliban killed him.
The demon lord touches it now, though I’m not sure if he’s conscious of doing it.
Ten years is nothing to a demon, and so Grata’s betrayal must seem like only yesterday to Kaliban.
Perhaps he should’ve seen it coming. Raising his son like just another one of his soldiers bred a contempt for his father and a desire for power in the child.
But Grata’s attempted coup caught Kaliban so by surprise that it was only the help of Malice, Baine, and Vyle that kept him in control.
Not that any of us are particularly fond of Kaliban. But he’s a good general, and we would all rather see Infernum’s army led by someone with proven experience.
“If the storm is set on blowing, let us hear the wind before we batten down the hatches,” Liege Damein says when Kaliban and I only sit glowering at each other in silence.
“Yes.” Jing nods. “Lord Syrus, if you have a good reason for suspending the snares, then you can at least tell us.”
I sigh, weighing up how much I’ll have to give them. “I have made no secret of the fact that the keepers of the Morphos have been concerned for a little while now.”
“Indeed. You’ve sent letters speaking of the water’s disturbance,” Liege Damein corroborates.
“But there have been developments,” I say. “The lake’s troubles are worse than we initially thought. I think the ephilium have stolen some of the water in order to sabotage souls’ ability to reach Infernum.”
“What do you mean?” Kaliban demands, the anger in his eyes dimming a little, replaced with concern.
“Part of the lake has been separated from itself,” I clarify.
“It means the souls are getting pulled in multiple directions and likely becoming lost in the aether. That’s why making more deals right now is pure foolishness,” I say, fixing my gaze on Kaliban.
“Surely you’d rather wait until they actually rise from the lake before you throw their lives away, Lord Kaliban? ”
He sneers at me. He’s dedicated his life to the war, and no one is ever going to convince him it’s an endless, futile fight.
“So what are you going to do about it, Kaldare?” he demands.
“Yes,” Lady Jing jumps in, twisting a dark braid between her clawed fingers. “Or are you content with just papering over what is clearly a huge hole in your defenses?”
I flex my wings in warning. I won’t have my dedication to protecting Malice called into question.
“If the ephilium have found a way past Malice’s wards, then I’d highly recommend the rest of you start checking your domains are as safe as you think they are,” I suggest coolly.
The other lords exchange looks at this, their own vulnerability only now occurring to them. I sit back, still unsure how much to reveal. They need to know I’m doing something about this, if not exactly what. “As it is, I’m already investigating the infiltration sites and—”
I stop at the sound of shouting and banging in the hall. There’s a stream of curse words in a voice I recognize annoyingly well. Viz and I jump to our feet at the same time the door flies open.
A hefty Rancorite demon—one of Kaliban’s men—with a thick snout and crimson eyes appears. He has one arm wrapped around Leah’s front, dragging her into the room, a knife pressed to her throat.
“I found an intruder trying to eavesdrop, my lords. I think she’s human—possibly an enemy agent.”
A double-edged anger rises in me. A large part of me bares its teeth at the sight of her being crushed against the soldier, but I make no effort to soften my tone as I push into her mind.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I snap.
I feel the anger in her too, a biting fury that matches my own. But as she so often does, she pulls it back, locking it away from me in that part of her mind I can’t reach. “I made a mistake,” she hisses.
The other lords are talking now. Kaliban has drawn his sword, while Jing’s hands rest on the wicked-looking throwing stars on her belt.
“It’s not like the ephilium to work with a human,” Jing says, tilting her head. “Tie her down so we can torture the truth out of her.”
Leah starts to buck and kick, staring at me with wide eyes.
“Do something, you asshole!”
I grit my teeth and rub the bridge of my nose. This is the part of my plan I really didn’t want to get into with the other lords. But there’s no avoiding it now.
“This human isn’t working for the ephilium,” I sigh. “I know because she’s working for me.”
There’s a tense beat of silence.
“For darkness’ sake, let her go,” I order the Rancorite. But rather than obey me, the soldier looks to his general. Kaliban nods at him. The demon drops the knife from Leah’s throat but still keeps hold of her.
“What would you want with a human?” Lady Jing sniffs as she settles back into her seat. “Aside from indulging in a little nostalgia for the Mire, of course,” she says.
Her suggestive look tightens my anger to a sharp point, partly because she’s not entirely wrong.
“She is my agent,” I say, my voice low enough to tell her I don’t appreciate her tone. “Thanks to the meddling of some—now dead—sorcerers, we have been bound by a possession link, and I’m using her to investigate the origins of the ephilium rifts into Malice.”
Kaliban’s lip curls up in disgust. “You let yourself be bound to a human? Because you needed her help? Are you really so weak, Kaldare?”
I throw my magic out across the hall, bringing the temperature down several degrees in an instant. The shadows in the corners start to move, creeping across the floor toward the lords’ chairs, and the flames in the lamps hanging on the walls flare.
“Let us not compare notes on weakness, Kaliban.” I hold his gaze, letting him feel the power that Ajax gave me, the magic he carved into me before sending my soul to Infernum.
Ajax led Infernum’s armies before Kaliban did, and the Lord of Rancor knows full well the former Lord of Malice made a walking weapon of me, even if I don’t have much opportunity to fully use the “gifts” he gave me.
“Message received, Lord Syrus,” Lady Jing says, eyeing the creeping shadows.
Of course, all three of them can compel shadow too.
But we all know that—perhaps with the exception of Kaliban on a good day—none of them could match my slinging in a fight.
It’s not a fact I’ve had to demonstrate during my tenure as the Lord of Malice, but they’re aware of my history, my life as a human, and the legacy Ajax left me, and that’s proof enough.
I pull the shadows back, sending them retreating back to their corners.
“The rifts all lead back to Pax,” I say. “That is why she is so useful.”
Liege Damein eyes Leah with speculation. “It’s clever. A lowly mouse may slip between the cracks impenetrable to the cat.”