Chapter Forty-One Gabriel Somewhere in Aphelion
“That was a really fucking stupid thing to do,” I say to Erevan before I groan, my head dropping back on the settee where I’m currently being serviced by a blonde with the most perfect tits I’ve ever seen. She’s sucking on me like I’m a fucking lollipop, offering the only form of stress relief that seems to make any difference lately.
Erevan sits a few feet down from me, a dark-haired beauty kneeling between his legs, supplying him with similar entertainment. As Atlas and Tyr’s cousin, Erevan has known me almost as long as they have. We all grew up together as boys, finding ourselves in the sort of trouble typical of royal children without much parental oversight. Of course, I wasn’t an heir or part of their family, but my proximity to the princes offered me certain advantages.
As we grew older, our paths diverged. Tyr was training to be a king, with Atlas as his possible second. I was destined for the warder corps, and Erevan was sent to study in Alluvion to learn history and politics with the hopes of leading Aphelion’s council someday. I think his mother hoped he’d find some nice young woman to bond with, but something happened during his time on the western coast. He dropped out of school and returned to Aphelion, where he renounced any claim he had to the royal line and moved to The Umbra. We lost touch for many years, until he resurfaced with a list of demands on behalf of the low fae.
By then, Atlas was king, and he dismissed Erevan with cold words, declaring that if Erevan ever darkened his door with requests of a similar nature again, he’d see to it that he was tossed out of Aphelion, but not before suffering for his insubordination first.
But Erevan wasn’t to be deterred. Instead, he returned to The Umbra, where he began to rally support amongst the low fae. At first, he was met with resistance—the low fae had been cowed thoroughly into submission and were reluctant to fight back, afraid of what further punishments Atlas might force upon them.
But Erevan has a way of making people believe in him, and not in the same duplicitous way as Atlas. Even as kids, we all felt the pull to be around him. There was something that made you want to earn his pride, but he never abused that power. Anything he desired was a path he truly thought would be in your best interest. I believe that if the Mirror hadn’t chosen Tyr when Kyros descended, Erevan would have made the best choice of king for Aphelion. I’ve wondered countless times if Erevan would have fallen for Atlas’s tricks and if we’d all be stranded in the positions we are now.
“We needed to send a message,” Erevan says, picking up on my earlier admonishment about blowing up the Twelfth District days earlier. Hundreds died in the blast, which destroyed a chunk of the city. I’ve had guards working around the clock, patrolling the border of The Umbra, worried the city will devolve into a full-out war. With the extra visitors here for the bonding, our forces are stretched as thin as paper and rips are forming everywhere. “Atlas can’t keep ignoring us.”
The woman between my legs sucks hard, directing my attention away. I can’t quite form a response yet, so I let her continue, feeling myself grow thicker with each enthusiastic hollowing out of her cheeks. My hips move of their own accord, thrusting up and sliding down the back of her throat, causing tears to run down her cheeks.
She grips my thighs as I fist my hand into her hair, taking over as I fuck her mouth, letting all the frustrations of the past few months melt out of me for a fleeting moment of relief. After another minute, there’s a tingling at the base of my spine before I spill into her as she swallows every drop like the pro she is.
When she’s done, she slides off me with a pop before she stands up, giving me an eyeful of her lithe, toned body. “Anything else?” she asks with a tip of her head, and I wave her off.
“Just another drink.” She picks up my glass and walks away as I study her round ass in appreciation. Erevan is tucking himself back into his pants, having also just finished.
“Atlas is furious,” I say, picking up the conversation now that I can think again.
“You think I give a shit?” Erevan asks, accepting a drink from the woman who was just blowing him a moment ago. My girl returns with a tray for me as well.
“What was the point of that? You killed some of your own, Erevan.”
Erevan’s mouth tightens.
“I know. That was an accident.”
I run a hand down my face with a long sigh.
“You need to be more careful. If you keep doing shit like this, you’ll lose the little support you already have from the council. Some of them lost property in that explosion.”
Erevan casts a sharp glance at me. “Property. You think I care about a few ruined buildings when the low fae have nothing?”
“You’re absolutely right,” I say. “But that’s not how they think. You need to speak their language. Appeal to what moves them. And unfortunately, that’s money. Talk to them. Convince them that changing the laws would benefit their businesses and fill their coffers.”
Erevan takes a long drink, his gaze focused away from me. “We’ve been over this before. I refuse to be a sellout. I want them to do this because it’s the right thing to do.”
“Erevan,” I say.
“No.” He turns to me with a sharp look. “If their benedictions extend to only what’s profitable and not what’s right, then how long will it be before we’re in this position again? They have to do this for the proper reasons, or it means nothing.”
I blow out another long sigh. “I know you’re right…”
I trail off. He is right, but he’s also too idealistic for his own good. The bastard won’t even use his magic in solidarity with Aphelion’s low fae. I admire his principles, but he’ll have to learn to fight dirtier if he has any hope of victory.
“What I need is a way to shame Atlas,” Erevan says. “Something that destroys his credibility so thoroughly they’ll be calling for his head.”
My gaze slides to Erevan, who is rubbing his bottom lip with the tip of his finger.
“What are you thinking?” I ask, and he shakes his head.
“I don’t know. I’m wondering if we can use the bonding ceremonies in some way.”
I sit up in alarm.
“Don’t. If you pull another stunt like that, you’re going to ruin everything you’ve been working for. You’ll lose all the support you have from Aphelion.”
“We’re not,” he snaps at me. “But we need to get everyone’s attention. Not just here in Aphelion but across Ouranos. Other than The Aurora, no one treats the low fae this poorly. Surely another of the rulers can be rallied to our cause.”
“I think you’re a dreamer,” I reply.
Erevan lets out a derisive snort. “Perhaps.”
He takes another long sip of his drink.
“Remember when we were children and Atlas locked all three of us in that shed and left us there for hours?” he asks with a crook of his mouth.
I snicker and shake my head.
“Then he pretended he saved us to make himself look like a hero?” Erevan adds.
“How could I forget? Remember you were so scared you pissed yourself?”
“That was water. I spilled water. How many times do I have to say it?” Erevan exclaims, and we both start laughing at the well-worn joke.
“Gods, he’s always been such a fucking prick,” Erevan says after a moment of silence. “Why did we ever let him get away with that shit?”
“He was a royal heir,” I say. “And he was very good at getting his way.”
When I say that the four of us played as friends, I truly mean that there was a hierarchy within our tiny group, and I was always at the bottom, with Erevan coming in a close second.
“What do you think would have happened if Kyros hadn’t found you in the woods that day?” Erevan muses. It’s a question I’ve asked myself a thousand times.
“I would have died out there,” I say, knowing it’s true. Part of me is sure I would have tried to return to my father to make him suffer for what he did to my family. But he probably would have killed me in the process, and I’m not sure if I would have had the courage anyway. In the end, this was the better fate.
Now that I’m no longer a frightened child, I’ve considered returning to see if he’s still there, toiling in his hollow, miserable life.
Erevan doesn’t respond to that, and I stare at my now empty glass.
“So, what are you going to do?” I ask. “How are you going to… embarrass him?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll think of something. Surely that bastard has some skeletons I’ve yet to uncover.”
He looks over at me, and I wish I could tell him everything I know. Would it be the thing he needs? If Aphelion were to learn that Tyr is alive, nothing would save Atlas’s neck. But I can’t. The words stick to my tongue. It’s one thing to skirt around Atlas’s rules and utter a few half-truths sprinkled here and there, but it’s quite another to spill out his secrets like poison injected directly into a vein.
“If you know of anything?” Erevan suggests.
“Fuck off,” I bite. “You know I can’t.”
My anger coalesces into swollen clouds, threatening to drown me as Erevan gives me a grim, pitying look.
“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. I’ll think of something.”
After my talk with Erevan, I head back to the Sun Palace, doing my best to go unnoticed by the dozens of courtiers filtering in from every part of the continent. But no matter how much I avoid eye contact, keeping my head down, there’s no hiding these fucking wings on my back. I stand out like a flashing red light over an inky pond.
Though I look straight ahead, I feel every curious eye peeling me apart. Thankfully, I know this palace like I know the back of my hand, and before long, I’m able to maneuver my way into a quieter area of the building.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I sag against the wall, running a hand through my hair.
“Gabriel.”
Callias, the palace stylist, storms in my direction, flanked by two of the Tributes. I remember them as the ones that Lor became friendly with, Halo and Marici.
“We’ve been looking for you,” Callias says, and I suppress a groan. Why the fuck can’t everyone just leave me alone?
“Where is Lor?” the one on Callias’s left asks. Halo, with her dark curly hair and deep complexion and her lips currently pulled into a frown.
“What?” I ask.
Callias’s guilty smile is sheepish.
“I might have let it slip that I’d seen her,” he says, and I sigh loudly.
“You’re really shit at keeping secrets,” I say.
“I know,” he agrees.
“We want to see her,” the other Tribute, Marici, says. “We’ve been worried sick about her.”
“Is she okay?” Halo asks. “Where is she?”
I hold up my hands, this barrage of questions making my head pound.
“I can’t tell you that,” I say, and Halo plants her hands on her hips, her eyebrows drawing together. “I promised.”
That softens her expression.
“We just want to know she’s all right,” Halo says. “Does she need our help?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
The looks on their faces are brimming with concern, and some soft, pathetic place buried deep in the center of my heart wavers. I’m such an idiot.
“Look, I’ll try to get a message to her,” I find myself saying, already regretting this. “If she’s okay with you knowing her whereabouts, then I’ll let you know. Until then, do not bother me with this again.”
Halo opens her mouth as if to protest, but I cut her off.
“It’s the best I can do,” I say. “I swore I’d keep her location a secret.”
“Right,” Halo says. “I can respect that. Tell her we just want to see her and hope that she’s safe.”
I roll my neck and massage the bridge of my nose. “Sure. Of course.”
Then, before they can demand anything else, I spin on my heel and walk away, hopefully to lose myself where no one will fucking talk to me ever again.