41. The Aftermath
The Aftermath
N othing happened.
Mila saw Natalee’s eyes go wide and heard Abbott’s monotonous intonation hitch a moment. There was a heartbeat of silence, and the world seemed to pause before two huge bangs abruptly sounded from within the braziers on either side of Midas’s dais.
And then an enormous explosion rocked the Grand Cathedral and blew Mila’s world apart.
The tiny acolytes nook where she and Jahan crouched was violently blasted by a wall of air and fire that easily punched a hole into the wall right between them, bringing the whole room and everything in it crumbling down, and sending debris plummeting towards the crowd below.
The only thing that saved Mila and Jahan from becoming little more than splattered memories on the hard floor below was a large swath of thick fabric that had been hanging as decoration from the ceiling. Mila was all but catapulted into it by the force of the explosion. Instinctively she grabbed out and clung to the thick velvet .
Panting in panic as her brain caught up to her body, she tried to make sense of what had just happened. As she did so, chaos erupted below.
The explosions had upended at least ten giant pillars, crushing several revellers and spilling glass and sand throughout the hall. One enormous stained-glass window had been completely blown out, another two were damaged, with huge holes made by chunks of flying debris ruining the painstakingly crafted images. From Mila’s vantage point, the people below looked like a disturbed ants’ nest. Screaming and scurrying about in every direction. The archway to the exit was still clear, but a pillar had fallen on a woman who’d been trying to get out that way. The dead body was covered in sand and blood and was blocking the stairs. For the moment, this seemed to deter anyone else from wanting to get near.
Mila’s ears were ringing. She knew she had to get down from this curtain soon, before she, or it, fell, so she started carefully inching her way down the fabric, watching Jahan doing the same just below her. They were about ten feet from the ground when they were spotted, simultaneously it seemed, by Culis, Jezebel, and Abbott.
Culis had his arm around Jezebel’s shoulders and was drawing her close to protect her from anything else that might decide to fall from the roof. He had a bloody graze on his left cheek and dust all through his hair, but otherwise seemed unharmed. His eyes lit up in panic when he saw Mila.
I’m sorry, she thought when she saw him, but there was no way to convey it.
Jezebel looked enraged. She opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted when Abbott took it upon himself to grab Mila. He lunched for her dress and tore her off the last bit of curtain, throwing her to the floor, and kicking her hard in the head with his boot.
“Demon!” he seethed. “We’ve been attacked by this demon!”
“No!” Mila cried out, throwing her hands out to protect her head from his blows. “It wasn’t me.”
“Stop!” Culis’s voice cut through the pain and Abbott was pulled away. “This is my property you’re defacing, High Priest,” she heard him say from above her.
She risked a peek to see Culis standing protectively above her, his hideous orange overcoat gleaming in the remaining firelight as he stared down Abbott.
“Explain yourself.”
“Explain myself? ” The outrage emitting from Abbott was volcanic. “We…the God-King has just been attacked by your property .”
“No!” Mila cried out again. “I swear it wasn’t me.”
The God-King himself watched the hubbub from a little distance away, surrounded by jesu who stood with shields and swords at the ready, braced for the next threat. He did not intercede. Rather, he seemed interested in watching Abbott alone.
Natalee was nowhere to be seen.
“Why would she blow herself up?” Culis challenged cuttingly. “I’d look a little closer to home for the culprit, High Priest. Maybe those Children of Midas had some say.” He turned to Mila. “Come, demon.” He picked her up from the ground and began hustling her towards the exit. His grip was firm, his energy frayed and stressed. He was terrified that she’d been caught like this and had no idea if he was going to be able to get her out alive.
“Wait,” Jezebel cut in and Mila’s heart sank. “I demand an explanation. What is she doing here? ”
“She came as a servant,” Culis replied coolly. “She’s good with the horses, but she was meant to stay outside with the carriage.” He shook Mila for dramatic effect. “You disobedient little rat.”
“I mean, why was it not her ?” Jezebel snarled, pointed a perfect, manicured finger directly at Mila’s heart.
Culis looked over at the princess and pulled off the most immaculate bit of acting Mila had ever witnessed. His expression was nothing but a perfect balance of confusion and indignation.
“The Divine command asked for the demon on the ship, Princess. It was quite specific.”
Jezebel’s eyes flashed, realising that something in her plan had gone wrong, and it was too late to fix it. Then she rounded on Jahan. “And why were you with her?”
Culis didn’t wait around to hear him answer. He continued to push Mila away from the group, grabbing her hand and striding with confidence towards the exit. Mila followed, trying to match his pace, trying desperately not to behave as though she were prey fleeing the roving eye of the hunter. She knew Abbott, at least, was still watching her.
Together, she and Culis stepped over the dead body of the woman by the archway and walked briskly out of the hall and towards their carriage, which sat clear of the traffic.
Standing around it were six guards.
For a moment, Mila’s heart plummeted, certain they were about to be arrested, but then she recognised their faces. Nemecca was grinning at her broadly, a streak of black soot across her brow. Corbyn and Arran also gave her a nod of welcome as she approached. Black Berran stood to the rear, and Baird was there too.
What were they all doing here ?
When they reached the door of the carriage, Culis all but threw her inside and was halfway in behind her when an enraged cry from the top of the stairs was heard.
“Halt!”
Culis froze, then turned and looked over his shoulder.
Mila saw Abbott through the carriage window, his black robe flowing around him, buffeted by the wind. His old face was stern and unyielding, and the shadows caused by a flickering nearby torch gave him an altogether skull-like visage. He was surrounded by four jesu. Their swords were drawn.
“He’s not going to let this go.” Culis sighed into the carriage in an exhausted fashion. Then he turned to the High Priest and called back congenially, “High Priest, what can we do for you?” As he stepped back down from the carriage, he shut the door behind him, enclosing Mila within.
“Tell me what is going on, Culis,” Mila heard Abbott demand. “It looks to me as though you are fleeing the scene of the crime and taking the culprit with you.”
“Fleeing the scene of the… High Priest, in case you hadn’t noticed –” Through the window, Mila saw Culis gesture to the archway behind them, which was now swamped by a flood of panicked people who had become brave enough to finally use it. A cloud of golden dust spilled into the air around them, blowing from one of the huge, broken pillars and illuminating the night. It was pandemonium. “The Grand Cathedral has just been attacked. I’m leaving for my own personal safety and taking my asset with me.”
“Your asset,” the High Priest hissed, “is precisely what I’m here for.”
He pointed as he descended the stairs. His jesu went ahead of him and surrounded the carriage on all four sides. Mila shrank down and dropped to the floor, hoping to hide as much of herself as possible so as not to antagonise the situation any further.
She could still hear Abbott through the thin walls of the carriage.
“Hand her over,” he demanded in a calm voice that was not accustomed to refusal.
“Why?” Culis challenged plainly, his confidence unshaken.
Abbott’s cold fury was palpable. “I am the God-King’s own High Priest!”
“And, I note, not the God-King himself,” Culis replied calmly. “And while I hold great respect for you and your station, High Priest, I am not required to obey you, nor are you entitled to rob me.”
“Rob you?!” spluttered Abbott, his calm tone slipping. “Your supposed ownership of the spawn of hell is blatant heresy!”
“My spawn of hell has just appeared before our Almighty God-King, who was not perturbed in the slightest at her presence at his ball, or of my ownership of her. Do you presume to know better than our God-King Midas? Shall I go tell him as such after you slaughter my property, in my own carriage, without cause?”
“She had something to do with that explosion in there. I know it,” the priest seethed, his voice a thick, syrupy poison.
“Did she?” Culis’s tone was perfectly pitched to mild curiosity. “What did she do?”
There was a long moment of silence. It stretched for an age and made Mila itch with the agony of anticipation.
She still dared not raise her head to see what was occurring outside.
Eventually, she heard the crunch of footsteps on gravel and realised that the jesu had been recalled.
After another few moments of tension, Culis opened the carriage door, looked around for her, nodding grimly when he saw her lying on the floor .
“Stay down,” he said quietly, as Arran clucked at the skittish horses.
Mila remained crouched on the floor until the carriage had passed through the gates of the palace, and only then did Culis reach forward and grab her forearm, helping her up to her seat.
“What the hell did you do to that man?” he asked with a small shake of his head.
“Nothing,” she said shakily. “Honestly, I had nothing to do with that explosion. I have no idea what happened in there.” She was rambling, desperate for him to believe her. “I was in a little hidden room, watching the ceremony like we agreed, and then everything just…exploded!”
“Mila…Mila!” Culis placed his hands on her shoulders to steady her. “It’s okay. I know you weren’t responsible for that.”
“You do?” she asked incredulously. “How?”
“Because – ” he looked out the window where they could see the shadows of the six guards sitting on the outside of the rumbling carriage, “ – it was us.” He tried to give her a controlled smile but couldn’t hide the pride he felt entirely.
Mila gaped at him, unable to believe what she was hearing.
He continued. “If that wasn’t enough of a distraction for Natalee to slink out of there, then I don’t know what would be. Not a perfect plan, by any stretch of the imagination, but it was the best we could do at short notice, and it’s unattributable. I’m not sure why Abbott thinks you masterminded it.”
“Everything is my fault. My continued existence is an affront to him.”
“You’re an affront alright.” He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, looking at her with a gleam in his eye.
“Why didn’t you tell me about your plan?” she demanded .
“I honestly thought you had your own trick up your sleeve!” he replied incredulously. “I truly didn’t believe you came along to just watch. We waited until the very last possible second... waiting for you to act first.” He sighed, rubbed his chin, then chuckled. “I can’t believe I let you guilt me into staging a demon rescue and nearly blowing up God.”
At that Mila, overcome by adrenaline and hysteria, burst out laughing.
“And,” Culis continued, “I can’t believe we waited so long to act that we nearly failed!”
Mila howled with laughter, feeling the stress of the night ebbing from her body with each hiccup. It felt amazing and must have been contagious, because she was soon joined by Culis, who wiped tears from his own eyes as the carriage took them back to the manor.
* * *
Over the next few hours that passed quietly in the carriage, Mila mulled over the events of the evening.
She felt both intense hope and a hollow sadness when she thought of Natalee. She desperately hoped the woman had escaped but had no way to know for sure, and she remained horrified that she’d put her friend through this ordeal in the first place.
She also felt a deep sense of satisfaction and victory that she’d been able to convince Culis to recant on his position regarding Natalee’s sacrifice. The risks he’d taken tonight to save the demon woman confirmed something he’d apparently been trying to show Mila for a while now – that he indeed had a conscience and a sense of right and wrong.
More than that – he had a heart.
Culis wasn’t simply a mould of his abhorrent father. Planning that explosion would have required the careful coordination of many moving parts and people. He’d risked much in executing it. And he’d done it for her.
She studied him as he sat across from her. He was looking out at the stars, his bun had fallen loose in the chaos, and his long curls now sat dishevelled around his high cheekbones and taut jaw. She felt a deep pull towards him but pushed away the strong urge to reach out and trail a hand down the side of his face.
Now is not the time. Think of something else, Mila.
She was elated that the rubane had worked.
Unbeknownst to him, Culis’s plan had failed, and the explosion had actually occurred a second too late. Natalee should be dead, and Mila, Abbott and Midas himself knew it. And Jahan, she remembered. Jahan now knew too.
Midas’s power was vulnerable to rubane, just like the powers of all demons. Which meant…Midas was not a god. He was just an extraordinarily powerful demon.
The Church was a lie. The behaviours, their whole society, everything was a lie . She’d been shunned by her family for a lie .
It was huge. It was overwhelming. It was too much.
Mila promised herself that, tomorrow, after a long sleep, she would carefully consider what her next steps needed to be.
She thought of Jahan.
Dancing with him tonight had felt…wonderful. When he wasn’t bogged down in his religious horseshit, there seemed to be something very kindred between the two of them, an energy that felt familiar and strong.
Had he seen the way Midas’s power had faltered for that split second? Would that be enough to free him from the clutches of his beliefs? The concept of freeing him and nurturing the person beneath his religious veneer was thrilling, and she smiled as she considered it .
“What are you smiling about?” Culis asked her softly, leaning forward a little.
“I’m so grateful that everything tonight happened as it did,” she replied truthfully. “Thank you for what you did for Natalee.”
“Well, my heart is still racing a little, and I’m sure there'll be an aftermath for us to weather. Our abrupt departure certainly raised at least a few eyebrows. But, for now…you’re welcome. And also…that reminds me. I have something for you.”
Mila looked on in confusion as Culis unexpectedly reached into his breast pocket and drew out a small leather pouch, tied at the top with a thin gold ribbon.
“Finding the perfect bit of jewellery for you has taken some time, and I’m still not sure this one is…quite right. I promise I’ll be more creative with future pieces, but, considering the last piece of jewellery I gave you was that awful necklace…well, this can only be an improvement.”
Mila took the pouch and opened it. Inside it was a small, thin, solid gold hoop. One that matched the hoop glinting in his own ear.
“For you,” he said, tucking her hair behind her left ear so that he could see it properly and inspect the available real estate.
“We’ll match!” she said with a laugh, turning the pretty piece over in her palm, her heart singing. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.” She looked up at him, and he smiled when he saw how earnestly she meant it.
“I was…quite put out when I heard you giving Jezebel a gift tonight,” she admitted reluctantly.
"Really?" he gave a little smile and put his hand back on her knee as he stared at her intently. “You know exactly how I feel about you, and about her. And that was an ugly necklace I found in a pawn shop when we were in Traders Bay. I was actually looking for something for you when I saw that. It reminded me that Jezebel would expect something for her birthday. Thank fates I remembered.”
She laughed at that and he leaned in a little closer, still smiling at her, then sniffed and pulled back slightly in confusion. “Did you have wine tonight?”
“I had some wine,” she admitted.
“When? In your hidey hole? With the guard?” His tone was teasing initially, but then grew more serious. “Come to think of it, what was that guard doing up there with you? I saw you both come flying out of that ceiling nook.”
“Jahan? He…he found me while I was sneaking around in the garden.”
“And he didn’t arrest you?”
“No, he helped me. He…we…he was something akin to a friend when I lived at the palace.”
“Ah.” Culis’s sharp brain did not take long to put two and two together and he leaned back, smiling a little sourly. “The guard from the dinner party. I understand.” He paused for a minute and then let out a long breath. “What a hard life, to be such a striking woman.”
Mila rolled her eyes.
“I mean it.” Culis leaned forward again and touched her knee so she would feel the truth of his words. “Any lucky sod can be beautiful, but striking is more important, and damn you, but you have both and don’t even seem to realise it. The way you hold yourself, your self-assurance, your eyes… It’s utterly enchanting. You command a second look every time you enter a room. Or in my case, a third, fourth, a fifth...”
Mila flushed at the intensity of his words and his gaze. There was no joke written in them this time.
“And clearly, Jahan is not immune either. ”
She sensed a bite of jealously fly through him and she flushed. Culis realised he’d inadvertently shown more of himself than he’d intended, but to his credit he did not pull his hand away.
Mila went to respond, but Arran suddenly opened the door, and the moment was interrupted. They’d arrived. Mila had been so caught up that she hadn’t even noticed the carriage had stopped.
Culis stepped out first, holding out his hand to assist her. His touch was warm. His desire running hot. His pride, rough and dangerous. The jealousy had stoked something in him.
They walked up towards the manor side by side, and her mind reached for something to say to him. It was starting to rain. She didn’t want Jahan to be the last topic of conversation they shared before they retired.
“Culis?” she said softly as he closed the front door behind them and finally let go of her hand.
“Mmm?” he asked.
“Was it…uncomfortable dancing with me at Reminisciary?”
“What?” He shot her a look of pure confusion, as though this was the last thing he’d been expecting her to say.
“I saw how you danced tonight with Jezebel and…well, it was perfect, and looked fun and fast. That’s not how it looked when we danced.”
“Mila.” Culis shook his head slowly and then abruptly stalked towards her, forcing her to walk backwards with him until her back was pressed firmly against the wall below the staircase. “From what I recall of our dancing,” he whispered, his lips an inch away from hers, his hands bundled tightly into her hair, the hard planes of his body pressed fully against her, “it was practically sex. And there’s not a moment of that memory I would trade for a single second of any dance, with any other woman in the world. ”
The energy of his desire mingled with hers and made her gasp for air. Almost without meaning to, she ran her hands up the backs of his shoulders, wanting to pull him down and into her, wanting to feel his bare skin, to push his lips finally, finally against her own. She desperately needed to know what they felt like.
Just as she leaned in to close the gap between them, he released her and slipped away, just out of reach.
“No?” she asked in confusion, trying not to let hurt engulf her.
“Not while that necklace remains on your neck,” he corrected gently, running his fingers along the object that sat in the hollow of her throat. “I do not kiss my slaves. First thing tomorrow, I will have it removed. And then…” He touched her lips with the tip of his finger. “ Then I will be sure you are coming to me freely.”
“Oh.” She gaped at him. “You’ll release me?”
“I hope you’ll stay,” he said with a nervous smile. “But…I’ll understand if you choose to leave.”
There was a moment of silence that hung between them, and for half a second, Mila did not know what she would choose.
Culis saw the indecision on her face and stepped away. “Good night, Mila,” he said softly.
“Yes…okay… Good night. Sleep well.” She backed away from him slowly and then moved towards the corridor, towards her bedroom.
“Yes. Sleep well,” he repeated, but he made no move to go further up the stairs. Instead, he watched her with flames in his eyes, burning for her to return to him.
Fates, she wanted to return.
“Good night!” she said again, more loudly than she meant to, forcing herself to turn away, and feeling as she walked, as though every cell in her body was suddenly alight with white, laughing fire.
When she reached her room, Mila changed into a short, comfortable, cotton nightgown and laid down on her bed pallet, eager for sleep to take her.
Infuriatingly, she found that she could only toss and turn uncomfortably. She burned.
Culis.
He wanted to remove the necklace, to free her.
That in itself was amazing. She’d never expected anything like this to transpire for her. Freedom. She would have her life back…and yet, right now, through the haze of lust, it all seemed secondary. The temptation to go up the stairs and follow him into his chambers was too real.
She rolled over in bed, maddened. She was undeniably drawn to him, and despite having had many legitimate reasons to dislike him over the past few months, she knew now that she didn’t.
In fact, she liked him a lot.
She liked his humour and his intellect and the way he treated his staff. She liked his ambition, and the creativity with which he conducted his business. And she liked the fact that he liked her, the way he wanted to see her, to know her and understand her. She trusted the energy she felt from him. It felt good. Too good.
No .
Not now. Not tonight. Tonight, she needed to sleep. There’d be time to investigate these feelings and desires she felt for Culis tomorrow.
She breathed through that elation, that anticipation, that nervousness…and let it go. Culis would still be here in the morning, and dwelling on any of her emotions right this minute would not help her sleep .
She closed her eyes again, but her efforts to sleep were thwarted once more by a startling wave of yet more intense emotions: anger, hatred, humiliation. She hated Jezebel. Hated the woman with an intensity that surprised her, unrivalled by anything she’d ever felt before for another living creature. Previously her dislike and fear had been mingled with pity for the princess, but tonight, all pity vanished. If Midas was truly just a demon, then Jezebel had to have known this, or at least suspected it. She would have never felt “half Divine”, as she’d always proclaimed. She had enabled her father’s lie for her own comfort and status.
The more Mila thought about how the fearsome woman controlled the lives of both Culis and Jahan, the more enraged she became, and she allowed herself to feel all of it, to let it seethe inside her with an intensity she’d never experienced before.
Eventually, though, like all feelings that are allowed to be realised, it slowly began to pass. Mila breathed and let it go. She’d come back to it another time, but for now, she’d done enough processing. She needed to sleep.
She closed her eyes again and tried to clear her mind of all thought. This time, she sought to distract herself from her emotions by attempting a meditation exercise, spreading her awareness away from her body and throughout the manor instead. She hadn’t done this exercise in the months since her capture, as the number of people continually bustling around made it difficult to perform. Now, however, in the witching hour of night, with everyone asleep, it was safe for her to let her horns grow, expand her powers, and try to sense as many living things in the giant house as possible.
She caught many things in her mental feelers. Rodents living inside the walls, a useless cat that usually roamed the kitchen pretending to be hard at work during daylight hours. She sensed the sleeping souls of every servant and employee of the manor. Petrie would be up in about an hour to commence preparation for the morning meal, but currently was so deeply asleep he might as well have been dead.
She expanded her powers up to the next level of the house, where she sensed Culis, still a muted energy to her power, but she could register that he was at least there in his room, and she was comforted by that knowledge.
And then, just as she was turning her mind from his room to another, she sensed something entirely odd and alarming.
Someone else was in Culis’s room.
And whoever it was, was wide awake, and pulsing with murderous intent.