Chapter 13 Temper. Temper.
Temper. Temper.
Ihadn’t slept a wink that night.
After dismissing myself from Endymion, I hunkered down in my residence, which—courtesy of Fenyte—magically housed its own mini library in the room off to the right of the living area.
Kai dropped off food that I nibbled on between passages, and although I was grateful for her taking care of me, I couldn’t help but feel a prickle of annoyance at her intrusion, which had me wondering if it’d carried over from my conversation with Autumn’s Second.
I couldn’t shake Endymion’s words about half-truths and assumptions being a caveat of war—both of which I was guilty of. And with the unending questions Endymion and I seemed to have of each other, one thing was clear—he, Caius, and I needed to have a candid conversation, soon.
I sat cross-legged on the floor in the middle of the two dozen or so books I’d pulled from the shelves and scoured them for information that would corroborate what I’d already learned to bolster my knowledge so that I could hold my own in the conversation.
With Endymion holding a powerful role in the Autumn Court, I was able to verify his account of the Great Curse with ease.
The records were meticulous, confirming that at five years old he was one of thousands of orphans who were taken in by the Axelian Army—or what I discerned as forced conscription.
No text outright said it, but life in the militant court was harsh, brutal even.
With so many initiates and officers taxing their resources, Wymond decreed it mandatory for any officer under a certain rank to participate in their annual war games—a four-week competition where the number of fellow officers one slaughtered would determine what rank they’d be elevated to.
Luckily, this didn’t include initiates until they hit a certain age; then they’d have to survive like everyone else to become an officer.
From what I could gather, the games had been abolished nearly two hundred years ago by Amos and Caius’ father after the Autumn Court launched a full assault on the Winter and Summer Courts, which ended in heavy sanctions, although I couldn’t find the reason behind it or what the sanctions were.
With each piece of information I collected on the Autumn Court, I couldn’t help but think of the amount of blood that stained Endymion’s hands as the highest-ranking officer of their army. It was another facet of him I found difficult to reconcile with all the others.
What surprised me was how little I could find on Artton and Sidrick, and I wondered if I’d have to ask Fenyte for texts on them specifically.
I did learn that Caius had only been High Lord of the Summer Court for twenty years, which is when he’d appointed his second and third, though information on how his late parents were claimed by Father Death was sparse.
First light began peeking over the hills as I lay in bed, mulling everything over, and deciding what my next move was. As it stood, I only saw one path; I had to talk to Caius and Endymion—today.
Determination fueling what my lack of sleep couldn’t, I flung the sheets off and got ready.
Getting a better sense of where things were in the palace, I smiled to myself for only getting lost once as I walked down the final hallway to Caius’ study; and then realized that was only true if my assumption that he’d be there was correct.
Reaching for the handle on one of the towering glass doors, a small smile pulled my lips up as Caius’ deep timbre reverberated through the glass.
Cracking the door open, I peered around the corner to find Caius, Artton, Sidrick, and Endymion sharing an intimate breakfast at a smaller table on an expansive dawn-lit veranda.
As I approached, Artton looked in my direction which halted their conversation as they turned their focus to me.
“I’d like to speak with you,” I said to Caius, foregoing any pleasantries before my bravado slipped away. I had a plan for this conversation, and I couldn’t let my nerves get the better of me.
“Of course,” Caius said and signaled to the empty chair.
“No.” I ignored Artton’s instant scowl. “Just you and Endymion.” My eyes flashed to autumn’s questioning gaze before I forced my focus back to the High Lord.
Sidrick began pushing his chair back to oblige, but Artton kicked his foot out, stopping its retreat. The two exchanged a glance before Artton crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Anything you want to say can be said to all of us.”
While I was no fae expert, I was fluent in male ego.
I wasn’t inclined to trust Caius or Endymion outside of necessity, let alone two more fae I’d scarcely seen, had never conversed with, and found scant research on. I wasn’t even sure I’d heard Sidrick utter a single word.
Determined to show that I wasn’t playing around, I took the two measured steps toward the table, positioning myself between Caius and Sidrick.
Placing my palms on the morning-chilled stone top, I leaned over with deliberate intent toward Artton on the opposite side.
“Tell you what, Artton.” I flashed him a saccharine smile.
“The second you possess the spark is the second you can call the shots.”
No one moved as we stared each other down.
His powers caressed the side of my face as if reminding me that he could kill me with a mere wisp of his will, and the magic that pulsed from it left no question as to why he was Caius’ second.
Calling his bluff, I ignored it. There was no world in which he’d be allowed to harm me, nor where I’d back down on the first request I’d made that wasn’t an easy yes for them—never again.
Caius didn’t say a word, but the second Artton’s focus flicked to his High Lord to my left, I knew I’d won.
Without a word, he stood up with enough force that his screeching chair tilted back on the precipice of falling over before sluggishly righting itself, the metal feet clanking against the stone surface before settling.
Holding my position until he was just about to pass, I stood up and took a small step toward his abandoned chair.
“Good to know some things aren’t different between humans and fae,” I shot over my shoulder at him as I took his seat.
The glass doors shattered as he slammed them shut, and I didn’t bother hiding my smirk. Step one, accomplished.
“You know, Nyleeria,” Caius said, his voice low but not threatening. “I trust those two with my life.”
To his right, Endymion nodded in agreement. I knew as much and was prepared for the sentiment. My only surprise was that Caius hadn’t played that card the instant I’d all but dismissed his second and third.
While there were gaps in the texts I’d scoured well into the night, how much the fae respected power was not one of them.
Realms were willing to kill for the untold power that lived within me, and while I couldn’t temper it yet, it still meant I was the most powerful one in the room—and it was about damned time we all started acting like it.
“But I don’t,” I said, popping a piece of fruit into my mouth before leaning back in my newly acquired chair, crossing my legs.
Caius looked at me as if reassessing who sat before him, but it was Endymion’s gaze that my pulse quickened from, his approval stoking the kindling of confidence I was projecting while silently praying it’d take flame so I wouldn’t have to work so hard on this facade.
Just because I was the most powerful being, didn’t mean I felt like it—especially when it’d failed to protect me.
Autumn’s Second eased back a fraction in his seat, mirroring my nonchalance before glancing at the High Lord as if waiting to see what he’d decide. Unflinching, I held Caius’ gaze, and with each second that ticked by, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d played my hand wrong.
Finally, he leaned back and crossed his ankle over his knee, and I had to stop my relief from showing.
“You know I’ll share the details of this conversation with them,” Caius said.
“I assumed as much.”
“All right then, Nyleeria, the floor is yours.”
Suddenly nervous, my eyes darted to Endymion’s and something about how deeply he regarded me refortified my confidence.
Dragging my gaze from his, I refocused on the task at hand. “Do either of you know how I came to be in Thaddeus’ company?”
“If what you told us before was untrue, then no, we don’t.” There was an unmistakable edge of accusation in Caius’ voice.
I ignored the jab, unwilling to apologize for doing what was needed to survive at the time. “So, you know that I’m the spark and that I’m fae, but you have no idea what’s happening in the human realm?”
“We know about the deal Thaddeus struck with Wymond. Not the full extent of the terms, or why you left,” Endymion said, his voice going lethally calm with the last three words, and I couldn’t help replaying the question he’d asked yesterday as if some part of him already knew and wanted—needed—for me to confirm.
I narrowed my eyes slightly, reminding him to tread carefully, and was met with an equally stubborn response.
Stepping over the question he verbalized and the one he didn’t, I continued.
“Endymion said something to me yesterday about how wars are the byproduct of half-truths and too many assumptions, and I have to agree.” Caius didn’t look to Endymion which made me believe he’d either heard the sentiment before, agreed with it, or both.
“I want to be perfectly clear here.” I leaned forward slightly.
“What I’m about to share with you in regard to Thaddeus is not out of a sense of allegiance to you and your kind, nor does it mean I trust you—either of you.
” I shot a cutting glance at Endymion. “It’s to elucidate his past so none of us can claim ignorance moving forward. ”
Caius’ muscles rippled on his bronzed forearm as he wrapped a large hand around his ankle, pulling it closer as he slid back a fraction in his chair, back now upright.
Despite knowing the shift wasn’t meant as a threat, I swallowed, suddenly aware that even without powers he could snap me like a twig.
“And in return?” Caius asked.
“Reciprocity,” I said simply.
He raised a brow and looked to Endymion, then back to me. “Reciprocity?”
“Yes.” I nodded. “I need to know what’s in it for you by having the spark in your possession?
What’s the benefit to Caius the High Lord, Endymion the Autumn Court’s second-in-command, and the Summer Court, to harboring me?
And most importantly, what lengths you’d go to keep whatever advantage it is I give you. ”
I started when Endymion’s hand slammed down on the stone top so hard a tiny fissure appeared as the abandoned breakfast plates and utensils rattled.
Autumn’s cerulean gaze promised death as he stared down at me at full height, rage wafting off of him.
The High Lord’s brows furrowed in confusion at the outburst as he glanced between the two of us.
“You are not some object to be owned.” Endymion enunciated each word in a tone lethal enough to summon Father Death himself, and I could have sworn something like fire flickered in his eyes.
I stood and placed my palms on the cracked table like I had with Artton, only this time there was no smirk as I held Autumn’s murderous gaze.
“That, my dear Commander, has not been my experience since I’ve learned of the spark,” I sent back at him in an equally measured tone, despite the annoyance that’d been my companion since our last exchange was quickly becoming the kindling to my mounting anger.
Endymion snapped up to his full towering height, then ran a hand through his hair, which slid back into place, unbothered.
I tracked each shift in his body as he took two sharp steps to his right, then back again, as if in silent conversation with himself.
I stole a glance at Caius, whose features were creased with what looked like concern, before I focused on the now-still autumn fae.
“Why won’t you believe me when I say you’re safe here,” he said, arms wide, exasperation stealing his calm demeanor.
“You mean other than the poisoned arrow I took in this—your oh-so-safe court?” I spat, knowing full-well that wasn’t what he meant.
“Nyleeria.” The unhinged plea in his raised voice was an accelerant that turned my fury red-hot, its heat instantly incinerating my carefully curated plan.
“Because,” I yelled, now shaking from adrenaline.
“He’s the one that slaughtered my parents.
” They both flinched as if struck, and the sight made me want to land another blow.
Grappling for a fragment of composure, I pinned Endymion’s gaze with mine.
“That answers one of your questions, Commander,” I said, his title more curse than word.
“As for the one you asked yesterday, we both know you weren’t inquiring as to how he brought me to within an inch of my life while trying to steal the spark.
And given I’m certain you mined for more information in my dream than was necessary, I’m assuming the revelation of my parents’ deaths still doesn’t answer your question. ”
Although it did nothing to ebb my anger, he had the good sense to give me an apologetic look before saying, “No, it doesn’t.”
It was my turn to rise to my full—if not inconsequential—height.
“He spelled that pink diamond I wore to manipulate my emotions. Fucked me knowing he’d murdered my parents.
And shared me with his commanders.” Not quite finished, I looked to Caius.
“So, you’ll excuse me, your grace, if I don’t implicitly trust your second and third with my life—or any other part of me. ”
“What do you mean shared,” Endymion growled.
I leaned in and lowered my voice. “You fucken know what I mean.”
Caius finally stood. “What am I missing here?”
Ignoring him, Endymion’s eyes darted between mine as if replying the nightmare. “They’re…” he started but seemed to struggle to explain it.
“Connected, through a life-link. Yes.”
“How is that even possible,” he asked, eyes going wide in disbelief.
“Because, Thaddeus is a fucken immortal wielder.”