Chapter 31
“You,” Audra gasped, hating that the single breathless word she finally managed to sputter sounded more terrified than accusatory.
But seeing him in the bright light of day, not clouded by the haze of dreams, the darkness of an obsidian temple …
It didn’t seem real that she was looking, truly looking, at a demon.
She was embarrassed that she’d ever confused an insubstantial ghost for this creature.
He resembled a twisted version of Veridian fae—only more beautiful and terrible and knee-shakingly dangerous.
Aithne, for sure, a tier fucking one.
“Me.” His smile broadened but didn’t quite reach his eyes, which roamed over her, taking in her wrinkled skirt, dirt-stained nails, scuffed boots, wind-tousled curls, lingering on red-rimmed, swollen eyes—it was apparent she’d retreated to this vacant building to cry.
Shame warmed her cheeks.
Terror seeped up her spine.
Her last vestiges of pride was all that kept her standing firm and not letting loose the scream building in her lungs. She willed her shoulders not to fold, her chin not to lower in deference.
Or should she do precisely those things? What was the best way to survive this encounter?
Relaxed stance … blasé expression bordering on apathy, coupled with his caste, his tailored suit, and golden rings and chains.
He was Veil royalty of some kind … probably ancient and jaded.
If she groveled before him, he would either despise her for it and devour her soul that much quicker, or whatever it was that Aithne demons did.
Then again, there was a chance groveling was what he expected—what he felt he was owed. What if she had him all wrong, and her obstinacy angered him?
This wasn’t the first time she’d dealt with intimidating and dangerous men, though—how many times had she checked in criminal overlords at the inn?
Who ruled the underbelly of whatever city they hailed from, their slums sovereign nations in their own right, as if they were god-kings.
They were used to being treated as such, anyway, no matter that Audra hadn’t heard of their city—let alone them.
She’d learned to navigate the fine line between respect and deference; too much deference would whet their appetite, and they would expect too much from her—not just discounted rooms or bonus portions of food and free spirits for them and their crew, but for her to warm their beds.
Too much pride and that would whet a different kind of appetite, one to put her in her place, to instill their dominance over anyone and everything, especially the cheeky barmaid who needed to be taught a lesson—double so if their underlings were nearby, watching the interaction and their “king,” always, for any sign of weakness so they could usurp their place.
Those types, though, she could spot from a mile away, and she’d known how to work them by the age of twelve.
Usually, her strategy was effective. And if things soured? If she misstepped? Rare as it was, it did happen. If things went sideways, she would send Emyre down to the harbor, quick, ordering him not to return without a few Nightlys and Shea in tow.
This … male, though … he was a different species entirely.
Literally. And she knew absolutely nothing about him, except what she’d seen in what she’d hoped were fucking dreams …
She would have to tread more carefully than she ever had before.
It wasn’t just profits, her body, the safety of the inn on the line … but her life.
And yet, she still had her instincts, and she could rely on them; they rarely led her astray.
She plastered on a pleasant smile and said, “I’m sure there has been a mistake. What could you want with me?”
“Personally? Not a damned thing.”
If he’d intended to offend Audra, he hadn’t gotten his way.
This was a relief. But she played along.
“You just admitted you’d been waiting for me.
And now you don’t want anything.” Audra uttered what she hoped sounded like an affronted huff and not a sigh of relief.
“I’ll leave you to it then.” She made to turn, trying and most likely failing to appear casual, but her mind was screaming at her to get the fuck out of here and as far away from this creature as possible.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t going to let that be it and spoke again. “Be still.”
Audra hated that she stilled, but damn, his presence was terrifying, and he had a natural way of commanding.
“As I was saying. I have orders, you see, from my king and my god. This must play out in a certain way, or they will both be quite disgruntled.” His accent was unique. He rolled the words in his mouth like he played with each syllable before releasing it.
Audra tilted her head, the pounding in her chest changing tempo as intrigue married her fear. Her lips parted. Could it be … Was her most private wonder … that question plaguing her thoughts, though she’d been too terrified to let it fully form …
“What has a king, let alone a … god, to do with me?”
A smirk playing across his too-sharp features, he took a step toward her, making her gasp. “A little disappointing to see you’re just like the others … always asking the wrong questions.”
Her mind spun. The others? Maybe it wasn’t what she thought … perhaps he just had a thing for sad girls. Maybe he wanted to feed on her emotions, on her misery. Well, he could have that one all he wanted.
He continued. “It’s never ‘What has a god to do with me …’ ” Another step closer.
He was so very tall. Audra was forced to crane her neck to keep his face in view.
“No, no … Let me give you some advice that might just save your life—when it comes to the gods, it’s always best to ask, ‘What can I do for them?’ ” His smirk split into a grin.
His voice dipped low, almost … intimate.
“Or better yet, ‘In what ways can I please them?’ ”
Audra scowled, taking one large step backward.
“What others? Who am I like? And …” She rolled her eyes.
Didn’t he know she was human (or raised to believe so in the human realm)?
They didn’t have any gods left to believe in, and certainly none to be frightened of—there was no point in worrying over Xoese, it wasn’t a matter of if Death would come for them, but when.
“What,” she repeated, defiant, “have the gods to do with me?”
His smug smile faltered a fraction. Maybe he was realizing she wasn’t like anyone else. Never had been. She’d never been so painfully aware of that as she was today.
“I’ve two things to relay to you—” He held up a long index finger, the emeralds encrusted in the gold ring flashing in the light.
She startled as his rounded finger and short manicured nail shimmered, shifted, for a moment, and a long, extended, pointed blue-black claw appeared in its place.
“One: I suspect you know how special you are, and if you don’t by now, you might not be up to the task as it is.
If you stay here—under the vigilant, sibylline eye of those decrepit seers—you’re just one mistake, one slip of the tongue, away from being discovered, and when you are …
all their promises will curdle, fetid on their lips.
There won’t be riches or fame—all that awaits you in this place is a violent death to satiate their eternal hunger.
You won’t live to see the end of the semester. ”
Fear, sharp and bitter on her tongue.
“Alright … if that’s the first,” she mused, her voice thin, “what could possibly be the second? What on earth could you follow up with to convince me of this convenient lie that the ‘evil’ Chorus of Echoes wish to end my life?”
His eyes flashed, embers of gold in their dark wells, showing a hint of his power.
He was unamused. “That your doubts are correct. Your incras don’t work as they should, not because you are lacking, but because your magic is different.
” A cheeky grin, his mood shifting like the sands in an hourglass.
“No, your magic is better, stronger, harder to control. You are the Heir they are looking for. But this, you already know.”
She refused to acknowledge his announcement, though the undeniable truth settled upon her like a lead-filled cloak. She had known. And she had prayed and wished for it not to be true. Let Noel be the one, let her just survive this so she might make her choice.
The Aithne demon tilted his head, his almond eyes seeming to peer straight through her facade of indifference to the sheer terror of what it would mean to be the deliverance of the entire earth, which held her very soul in a vise.
She had the sudden, uneasy feeling that he could see beyond her exterior into the darkest parts of her soul, see every awful thing she’d ever thought about the burden her parents had thrust upon her, each prioritizing hope, ungenerous wish, every selfish desire that stained her soul.
“Stop looking at me like that. You don’t know a thing about me.”
“I know enough, Audra Evers.”
Voices from outside filtered in through the vents. Forge Guild. Their temple lesson was over; any moment, they would be filtering in here, ready to start their Sanctum Day practicums.
He heard them too, had probably heard them before her, but his calm attitude did not falter. He spoke, measured, the only hint that he felt any emotion at all the intensity of his gaze upon her own, which sent sparks of heat across her cheeks.
“I’ll admit, you are wrong about being the Heir to the prophecy.”
Momentary relief flooded through her, making her knees weak.
“I am?”
A cruel chuckle. “You are not the heir to just one prophecy, Audra Evers, but the heir to two conflicting fates.” He held out his hand, palm up, an offer for her to take it. “Come with me and fulfill your true prophecy.”
“Come with you?” The thought was so outrageous that she uttered a startled laugh.