Chapter 31 #2
He was unfazed, his hand remaining between them.
“You have a choice, to defy their destiny for you, refuse to complete their ritual so that the greedy Veridian fae can satiate their eternal appetite for magic, taking,” his tone tilting toward bitter, “always taking more than they need …” He straightened, his tone lilting again, inviting.
“No, your true prophecy, Heiress … to take your place by my side in the hallowed halls of the Veiled Realm. To lead your waiting armies to glory. Finally, rectify the imbalance Zenaida has wrought upon this world. Heiress, I’m offering you an empire.
” The Aithne demon shrugged one muscled shoulder, seeing that his claims held no enticement for her.
He switched tactics. “And if you do not desire to rule, then once the prophecy is fulfilled, you may leave the empire to me, return home to Khaveah.”
“Return home …” she whispered. Even if the Chorus of Echoes were lying about the riches, fame, and glory showered upon the Heir … they never offered that.
Home.
Audra jumped when the side door banged loudly behind her, pulled with the full force of a blacksmith initiate, expecting the door to be unlocked.
A string of curses. A shout. “Hey! Who’s in there?
This door is to remain unlocked during daylight hours!
” The Sabre initiate pulled on the door again, jiggling it.
More voices.
Someone else tried the door.
“I see a girl. The bitch is ignoring us.”
“She’s going to make us walk all the way to the damned front!”
Another jiggle of the door, before she heard another curse.
Audra’s heart raced. A way out. He was offering her a way out.
But then, that’s what the fae said the demons would do. Offer her what she desired most in the world. Twist her mind, consume her soul, until she was nothing but a mindless husk of a person.
They might use her, then have her return home to a burned-down inn, her father and Emyre’s corpses the only things left to greet her.
Yet was that what she most desired? Not the corpses or the burned inn, of course … but returning home?
Though she regarded this academy as a prison, hadn’t she just traded one prison for another?
Hadn’t her family’s inn been just the same?
A prison? More so since she’d lost her truest friend, Fiera.
Since her mother had passed, every room and piece of furniture a memory that brought nothing but anguish.
And one day, her father would follow her mother, and she would have that grief as well, which would fucking break her.
Any moment, annoyed initiates would enter through the front entrance. If they saw her here, talking to a demon, they would run straight to inform the priestesses. And there was no disguising what he was; even if the Veilway wasn’t glowing behind him, he exuded power and chaotic demonic energy.
His eyes flicked angrily toward the shouting students outside before landing back on her. “Now, Heiress. Come with me.” Another step toward her. “Even if you aren’t convinced yet of your place with us, it isn’t safe for you here.”
A fierce shake of her head. “I can’t.” Clenched fists at her side, nails biting painfully into her palm. “I won’t. I’m not going anywhere with one of you.”
She backed up, turning toward the side door.
“We were warned about this. About your kind. It is not the priestesses whose promises will turn putrid. Demons, if given a chance, will prey on our minds, tempt us with empty promises—of all we desire most in the world. Only to twist those promises, dangle them before us, just to take them away.”
He frowned, sighing. “I had hoped you were smarter than the others.”
The other Prophecy Heirs?
Did he—or someone else of his kind—make them the same offer? Did they also refuse? If they, too, had declined, then she must be making the right decision.
“Go before they see you. If anything is going to put me in danger, it’s you being here.”
“They cannot see me,” he said, his voice laced with annoyance.
“Who are you, to hold such power that you can conceal your form from people?”
“Your counterpart, your savior, or your end, depending on the choice you make. But you are looking for a name. Zhaire Rhaevon.”
“Zhaire.” Audra tested the name. She’d never heard of a name like it. “Zhaire,” she repeated, “will you kindly fuck off and take your glowing door with you?” Maybe they couldn’t see him, but they could probably see the brighter-than-mist portal behind him.
A smirk played across his lips. “They can’t see the Veilway either, not unless I wish them to.”
Alright, what was the extent of an Aithne demon’s powers? Did the Veridians know that one could break their wards?
“Fine then, they’ll see me standing here talking to my damn self and report that to the priestesses or scholars.” She turned, ready to release the switch on the lock.
“Wait. Heiress, you’re making a grave mistake.
” He sounded despondent suddenly. Sorrowful.
Like he’d had this conversation before, maybe a thousand times before, and it had never gone his way.
“I don’t wish for another of you murdered.
I don’t want to see you sacrificed needlessly only to further the Veridian fae’s selfish aims.”
Murdered? How convenient for him that her refusal to leave with him, that her decision to stay, posed a “threat” to her life.
“Then don’t watch. What happens to me is no concern of yours or your meddling god.
” She pulled open the door and pushed through the group of angry Sabre initiates, ignoring their cries of outrage.
She glanced behind her only once, but the Aithne hadn’t followed her outside.
Just like she knew he wouldn’t.
There was something about the smithy that allowed him to open a Veilway there, and she bet that was the only place on the Holyvere grounds with a faulty ward or a fudged incra that allowed him to do so.
She ought to inform someone, but what could she say?
Hey, one of your incras is faulty; I was almost convinced by a demon to follow him willingly to the underworld?
No, she better not.
If they had wanted to use that weakness to let in a host of demons to devour the initiates in their sleep, they would have by now.
She would just make sure she avoided the smithy at all costs, and as a member of Arcane Guild, there wouldn’t be a reason to return.
Then again, there were other ways for him to contact her.
The dreams.
Which she was sure now weren’t dreams. Now that he’d seen her, talked to her … would he be even more present, more tactile in the visions?
She would talk to Cersha, see if there was a sleeping potion the talented apprentice mediscribe could formulate for her. A tonic for a dreamless sleep.
She would put this out of her mind.
Pretend it hadn’t happened.
Midterms and the trials were fast approaching, and it was imperative to ensure she was at the top of her guild … And almost being swayed by the first demon she’d encountered wasn’t a good sign. It meant she had a lot more studying to do.