Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
EVONY
Hope you made it home. Lyvia’s back. We sail for Votruvia. If you can write back, send it there.
– Correspondence from Aeriden to Vander. Vander’s bunk, Soldiers’ Barracks, Mount Telum.
Evony – Aedrialis, Sultira
Muscles squeezed in my upper back as I brought my elbow down, closed one eye, and released. The sharp zing against my calloused fingers was a welcome spark of feeling as my arrow found its mark.
I reached for the thin wooden shaft of another, careful not to touch its fletching as I pulled it free. Something like numbness had spread through me since we took the city. Dad’s burial felt like a lifetime ago, and this city seemed empty despite the millions of people.
Archery had always been a welcome distraction in a lifetime of not belonging—from the looks our family received whenever we ventured into Rivaner to whatever emptiness I felt now.
I stepped back. My boot twisted in the dry, dusty footing of the training quarters outside Mount Telum, and I made my body as thin as a blade as I lined up when the familiar rapping of arrows sounded from behind.
My head jerked to the side, and I started when I found Vander approaching with his own quiver. His gaze tracked me, and a pleasant sensation swam in my core. Was I imagining his stare lingered? His gray eyes sparkled in the sunshine, and there was something familiar in them.
“I’ve never been very good at archery,” he murmured as he approached. “Would you mind?”
My lips tugged at a smile as I remembered Lyvia asking a similar favor last year at home. A weight settled in my gut as too many painful memories surged. All before Mum. Before Dad. Before everything.
Vander’s light brows pinched at whatever he saw on my face, and he closed the distance between us.
“Are you all right, Evony?” he asked, his head dipping low as he looked me over. “You’ve gone pale.”
A warm hand landed on my elbow. The backs of his fingers on the other just grazed my opposite cheek. I forced myself not to look at his lips as his scent hit me like a bucket of water.
“I’m all right,” I lied. “I’d be happy to help.” That was true.
Vander’s shoulders eased, and his lips tugged up in a half grin, popping a charming dimple.
“Same time tomorrow?” Vander asked, his elbow gently nudging me in the side.
“I don’t know about that,” I teased, unable to keep from smiling. “You almost shot me at our reset.”
Vander’s laugh echoed in the dark corridor of Mount Telum as he threw his head back, and I felt it in my very bones. No wonder Lyvia was so close to him.
“What can I possibly do to make it up to you?” he asked, pausing and turning toward me as we reached the door to the Grand Council chamber. A flush tingled up my neck as his eyes landed on me, and I shrugged before shaking my head.
“I’ll think of something,” he murmured.
I moved to open the door.
“Until then, consider me in your debt.”
His grin widened, and butterflies chased in my belly.
I pushed the chamber door open. My eyes lingered on his a moment longer.
Ronan stood at the head of the table in his usual place, arms crossed as he stared down a tall, domineering man standing across the room.
Ronan’s face shot to where we stood, his light brows narrowed as they landed on Vander, still standing in the hall.
“Van.” He nodded at him.
Vander adjusted himself and nodded in return before dipping into a soldier’s bow. He straightened and winked at me before the door slowly closed. I smoothed the wrinkles on my teal tunic as I strode to the table. My gaze slid to the older man.
A grimace stretched across the soldier’s weathered, olive face. Wavy, salt and pepper hair gathered at his shoulders above a dark gray formal jacket. He turned toward me, and my eyes caught on the silver pin displayed above his heart—two crossed spears encased in a circle of waves.
“Evony Hunt,” Ronan gestured toward me before pulling a seat out. “Evony, this is Lord Jon Pavel, Commander of the Khasimir Fleet.”
I blinked, snapping my face in the direction of the powerful lord once more.
Lyvia had told me about Lord Pavel. She’d grown up with him, her father’s confidant.
His forces were absent when we camped at Khasimir last year before taking Aedrialis because they’d sailed north to intercept Dark King Daimos at Stynguard. He’d saved the university city.
“A pleasure, my lady,” Lord Pavel murmured. “But I’m afraid I need a word in private with the high steward—”
“Evony is my ward,” Ronan cut in, his sapphire eyes sparking in the dim room. “She stays.”
Lord Pavel held Ronan’s gaze without flinching before nodding to me once more.
“Then let’s begin.”
Ronan adjusted the satin sheet covering the orb in the center of the table, eyeing it with distrust.
“There’s no need,” Lord Pavel murmured as he took a seat and crossed one leg over the other.
Ronan paused, narrowing his eyes at the lord.
“The orb won’t work,” Lord Pavel explained. “With the rubelline activated in Mount Telum, the queen across the sea cannot spy.”
My brows hiked to the ceiling, and I let out a tight breath. Well, damn.
A muscle ticked in Ronan’s jaw as he stared at Lord Pavel.
“All right,” Ronan murmured before clearing his throat. “What else do you know?”
Lord Pavel tilted his head as he surveyed the ex-queensguard. “I know you are not who you say you are.”
Lightning flashed in Ronan’s eyes, and a sharp defensiveness tightened his features.
Pavel waved his hand. “It’s my business to know,” he murmured, “And I care not. I’ve sworn allegiance to Prince Owyn.”
Ronan stilled as the name left Pavel’s lips, and the bags beneath his eyes seemed to darken.
“As far as Mount Telum goes,” Pavel continued, “I assume you’ve come to learn Saros created a magic nullifying device by constructing the castle out of Larimer stone?”
Ronan’s jaw twitched, but he nodded.
“Good,” Pavel continued without waiting. “You killed Saros, which, I might add, was a mistake. You could have easily caged him with a rubelline cuff or collar.”
Ronan’s face remained passive, but his knuckles whitened.
“Had you, you might have uncovered why. Unless you’ve found something hidden in his private library?”
I bit my tongue, forcing myself not to laugh at Ronan’s discomfort.
The ex-queensguard always did the questioning.
Ronan was practiced in the game of court politics, but I’d spent enough time with him the last few months to note the subtle changes in his composure.
And though his face remained calm and in control, his pupils had dilated, and he’d gone still.
“We’re in the process of examining—”
“Don’t bother,” Pavel cut in, “the creation of the castle, the elimination of the lost arts in the Kingdom of Sultira was all to protect this land.”
“We know,” Ronan cut in, his voice harsher than usual as his temper began to slip.
Pavel narrowed his eyes, but his lips tilted upward. “Good,” Pavel murmured, his head bowing slightly. “The Embodied are coming. The city needs to prepare.”
Ronan’s throat bobbed before he said, “We will prepare, but we need to control the narrative here. There is enough restlessness in the city after the death of the king. We don’t need people thinking the gods are coming to destroy us.”
“That is exactly what they are doing,” Pavel snapped, leaning forward. “And if Mount Telum has been activated, they might already be here.”
Ronan stilled, and Pavel arched a bristly gray brow at him.
“They are already here…” the lord mused, his hand swiping over his beard in a swift movement. “What else do you know, Merik?”
Ronan’s lips pursed, his eyes cutting to mine, before he divulged all that we’d learned from Vander’s update. Pavel sat back against his seat with a groan after Ronan had finished.
“Lyvia must return. She must.” Lines formed above the lord’s brows as they tilted up. His eyes turned glassy as he ran a hand over his beard. The concern on the old soldier’s face mirrored that in my heart. She must…
“The spells built into activating the Larimer stone on this castle were tied to the Vael Lacrima—the gate of the world,” Lord Pavel continued.
“If these walls are glowing red, it means the gate is wide open. The Realm of Vael is unguarded and valuable. It is a world full of natural magic, and it is ripe for the taking. More will come.”
My stomach somersaulted, and I looked to Ronan.
“And while this nullifier will stop the force of magic the Embodied bring,” Pavel continued, “it will do nothing against the creatures that slip through along the way.”
Ronan’s throat bobbed.
“How do you know all this?” Ronan asked, his head cocking to the side.
“I’ve been lord of the Khasimir fleet for longer than you’ve been alive. I’ve allied with the right people.”
Ronan shook his head. “This is more than making the right connections. Saros’s inner circle was small, and you weren’t in Aedrialis enough to be part of that. Who told you this?”
Pavel leaned back, surveying Ronan in appreciation. “Helmar.”
The hairs on my arm rose. Lyvia had told me about the high priest and his capture of her and Drystan.
Ronan’s brows raised. “High Priest Helmar died in Stynguard when Nivis attacked the first time.”
Pavel shook his head. His eyes dipped to his hands. “Came close. I don’t know how, but Saros brought him back. My men intercepted his carriage before he made it back safely to Aedrialis.”
My brows narrowed on the lord as a muscle in his jaw feathered. What had Lord Pavel been doing with High Priest Helmar? And how had he gotten this information out of him?
“Where is he now?” Ronan asked.
Pavel’s jaw twitched. “Helmar is a slippery fellow. And a powerful one. We lost him.”
“Then we need to prepare,” Ronan finally said, his voice hardening as the commander took the place of the high steward. He shifted in his seat and pulled out a map of Sultira. As he did so, he paused. His eyes slid to the hall door, and he cocked his head.
“You need—”
Ronan’s hand flew up in silent commend. His eyes were still pinned on the door, and Pavel’s mouth snapped shut. His gaze followed Ronan’s, and a moment of silence passed before Ronan shook his head, his curls bouncing.
“Continue, Lord Pavel,” he murmured.
The weathered lord pursed his lips before he leaned forward and spoke in hushed tones.
“You need to raise an army, High Steward. You need every warrior, every healer, every mage and witch you can get your hands on.”
Ronan’s jaw clenched. “We don’t have many mages or witches left,” he explained, “Most of them left with forces headed to Kayj.”
“We have one,” I murmured, doing my best not to wilt beneath Ronan’s glare.
Pavel turned his face to mine, and I squirmed beneath the fatherly stare he settled on me.
“Vienah,” I continued. “But she’s serving a sentence for spying on—”
Pavel waved his hands. “Get her out. If she has any power whatsoever, we will need her.”
A flush crept up Ronan’s neck as he shook his head. “Thousands of people are dead because of that water witch.”
“Thousands, you say?” Pavel cocked his head at Ronan, and his gray brows rose in feigned shock as he looked around.
He turned back to the high steward with a hardened glare.
“We are talking about millions, boy. The entire godsdamned planet will be annihilated if we do not use every ounce of power we can get our hands on. Set your grudges aside and rule.”
Ronan bared his teeth as he leaned forward.
“You sound an awful lot like King Saros with that kind of talk,” Ronan seethed.
“Saros lived with the choices he made for thousands of years,” Pavel cut in.
“While I didn’t support the tribute, he knew trading the lives of a few had the potential to save the many.
Were the ashen horrific? Abominations? Yes.
But they were also weapons. And we’re now standing in a kingdom fortified with the greatest magical defense known to us because of their payment. ”
Pavel gestured to the rubelline castle we stood in. Ronan leaned back, shaking his head in disgust.
“And we will need the Bellators,” Pavel continued, his voice hard.
Ronan’s mouth clamped shut, and I jumped as Pavel slapped his hands on the table.
“Bayne Ravindra. Nerissa Ravindra. Selvina Sirona,” he bit out each name, “And yes, Lyvia Cantor. She must return. We need them, or the only thing left of this realm once the Embodied realize how fucking defenseless we are will be dust.”