Chapter 46 Duty
DUTY
ASH
Waiting in the throne room’s central pit tested my patience. I wanted to go home and release the tension building in my body before I exploded and did something I’d regret—like go to the Jinphni District and pay for an illegal spell to get into Cholian.
It would be easy, but the fallout would be disastrous.
Not only would the act guarantee my execution for treason, but it would also put my brothers under fire when my actions “proved” Rae corrupted us.
What would the council do if they suspected their sons might act out of line and risk their future in the palace? I knew Cornaith wasn’t above confinement to force obedience.
I couldn’t risk it.
The heavy throne room doors closed behind us, reverberating in the expansive room, signaling the council’s arrival.
Zeke and Cyn’s parents took thrones at opposite ends of the row of ten. Ezra’s mother soon followed, sitting beside Zeke’s mother.
When Cornaith took the largest central throne, I braced for his wrath and fixed my gaze on the marble steps up to the dais.
“Lift your heads,” he commanded, his oppressive, steely voice echoing as he sat, smoothing a hand down his charcoal button-down.
Zeke flinched, then set his hands behind his back like Cyn and Ezra. While they stood at attention like soldiers, Zeke’s rigid posture was a product of discomfort. He squeezed his hands until his knuckles blanched. Time away had dulled his tolerance for Cornaith’s oppression.
I looked up at the six figures on thrones adorned with the finest upholstery, accented with colorful gemstones representing each family’s bloodline.
Rubies for the Brakeal bloodline—Cyn’s family.
Aquamarines for the Alakai bloodline—Zeke’s family.
Sapphires for the Kilnejar bloodline—Ezra’s family.
My gaze fell on the two empty thrones adorned with emeralds where my parents should have been, then the remaining two accented with amethysts. Four empty thrones stood as a reminder of royal lines lost to time—until Cornaith deemed me worthy to take my parents’ seats.
“Ranthus briefed me on your experience on Earth,” Cornaith said, focusing on Ezra. “Am I to understand you tried to return home?”
“We did.”
“With the human’s home warded, did you attempt to use your magic outside to gain freedom?”
“The wards didn’t restrict our magic in the human’s home, but without a tiisra stone or an understanding of how we arrived, we couldn’t leave despite our attempts to find answers.”
Cornaith hummed, stroking his trimmed black goatee. “Do you know how you arrived?”
Ezra didn’t miss a beat in stating, “The human used a book from Elyrdin to summon us.”
“From Elyrdin?” Cyn’s father’s heavy black brow narrowed.
I debated whether sharing that was wise. Rae’s execution felt inevitable, but I struggled with letting her go. I doubted this new information would sway them from their decision.
Did Ezra not care at all?
I suspected Cornaith already knew everything from Ranthus. Nothing said wasn’t information Ranthus didn’t already know. More than anything, I believed Cornaith was testing our loyalty to the council—testing how corrupted we were.
Zeke’s father frowned, tapping his gloved finger against the arm of his throne. “How do you know the book came from our world?”
Ezra hesitated—the first sign he hadn’t reverted to the detached man who allowed his father to treat him like a puppet before our time on Earth.
“Answer,” Cornaith commanded, staring down at his son.
“The book contained languages and drawings of lesser infernals from this world.”
While true, he left out the woman from the bookshop and the symbol unique to us four—and Rae. Was he protecting her?
Our mark was another reason I questioned if she’d spun an illusion. How could both the book and Rae bear a symbol unique only to the four princes of prophecy?
She knew the symbol meant royalty, but not that it was proof of our birthright as Elyrdin’s strongest future rulers.
That birthmark, if real, could be evidence that a quintuple mating bond involving a human was possible. It defied all Nyrith pairing norms, but if fate marked her with our symbol, the people of Elyrdin might accept it. Would the sitting council?
The prophecy made no mention of a single mate to share, only that our Nyrith would possess equal strength, which led to further confusion. As a human, Rae lacked Shyrlivi strength, let alone an heir’s.
I shook the thought.
We couldn’t tell the council about the mark. We lacked solid proof, and I didn’t trust Cornaith not to torture her before execution. I needed to distance us from her. Ezra knew it. He had to.
I looked over at Zeke, swallowing the bitter taste in my mouth.
Ezra’s father was capable of things that made death sound like a vacation.
Cornaith adjusted in his seat. “You mention that you could use magic in the human’s home but couldn’t return home. Did you make attempts outside? Send any signal for help?”
I realized Cornaith didn’t want to hear anything Cyn, Zeke, or I had to say outside of our written reports. This entire debriefing was a test, like I suspected, but not for us. He was testing his son—the only heir that mattered to him.
“We left the home multiple times,” Ezra said. “Several times we went to a secluded location to call on our magic to summon our wings.”
“I don’t understand,” Zeke’s mother said. “What good would your wings be on Earth?”
“Kalthea took our wings.”
Cornaith slammed his fist on the arm of his throne to silence the rising alarm in the others’ voices. “Explain.”
“When we were summoned, Kalthea took our wings as payment. We all bear the scars on our backs as proof.”
Cornaith cursed under his breath.
Ezra continued, ignoring his father. “I believed that if I could summon my wings, the magical signature would be strong enough to send a ripple across the planes you could detect, but none of our attempts succeded.”
I glanced at him.
Every time we went to the clearing to try and summon our wings, he never once mentioned that. Was he telling the truth? While I had struggled with not wanting to leave, he was still trying to find a way. It explained why I always saw him with the book.
I knew Rae affected him, but his resolve to return to his place in Elyrdin was stronger than mine. That much was obvious now.
“Enough,” Cornaith said, lifting a hand and cutting Ezra off. I’d stopped paying attention, lost in my head. “Return to your home and prepare yourselves. In four days, you will join us in Cholian.”
“I don’t want to see her,” Cyn spat, sounding like a petulant child.
“Son,” Cyn’s mother started. “You won’t have to speak to her. Only attend.”
“Lymsrana is correct,” Cornaith said. “If you don’t show yourselves at the human’s execution, what message will that send to our people? Your loyalty is with them, correct? They will question that and wonder if the human corrupted you.”
“Don’t tell them,” Cyn said, shrugging.
Cornaith’s brows narrowed, and Zeke stiffened.
“He will attend,” Ezra said. “I will ensure it, Father.”
Cornaith sneered, his lip curling. “See that he does.” He waved a hand. “Leave us.”
“It is good to see you home, my son,” Ezra’s mother said so softly I wondered if he heard her as he led us out.
The meeting went better than I expected.
I’d expected a full interrogation; judging by how Zeke deflated the moment we cleared the doors, so had he.
Instead, Cornaith only pressed what he’d been briefed on and barely looked at anyone but his son.
I wondered if our long absence played a role in how they responded.
Cyn’s parents didn’t act like they cared, but away from Cornaith they would shower him with affection. Zeke’s parents wouldn’t give much more than they did at the meeting. I doubted they’d blink if he disappeared—beyond grieving the loss of their meal ticket.
We left the palace, taking the manicured path toward the road home. I doubted anyone wanted to take a car after being stuck inside. “Did you hear your mom?”
Ezra looked over his shoulder at me as I caught up with him.
“She missed you.”
He nodded and faced forward as groundskeepers bowed, sharing their happiness at our return, then went back to tending the purple gardeista blooms.
Cyn linked his fingers behind his head as he walked, staring up at the orange and pink hues of the setting sun. The colors bled into indigo twilight, scattered with turquoise, green, white, and pink glittering stars. “Do I really have to go?”
“Don’t be a brat about it,” I said.
“I don’t want to see it,” he mumbled, a crack in his voice.
Maybe bitterness wasn’t fueling his defiance, but I’d had enough of his attitude.
I stopped and turned to him. “You took her necklace. You held her against her will. You said awful things. You—” My breath shuddered when Ezra’s hand landed on my shoulder. I closed my eyes and whispered, unable to hide the pain, “How could you?”
Cyn’s hands dropped. His gaze drifted to the twisted trees lining the lane to our home. A strong breeze stirred vines and thick blooms dripping from their gnarled branches.
“She tricked us,” he said. His bright amber eyes met mine. “If she were ours, it wouldn’t be this easy to lose her. That’s why I can’t believe it.” He looked at Ezra. “Did you really believe it?”
“It doesn’t matter what I believed.”
“That’s such a cop-out. She—”
“I can’t do this,” Zeke said, his voice breaking. He pushed between us and rushed down the path ahead of us.
“Son of a bitch.” Cyn slipped around me and raced after Zeke.
I dragged a hand over my face. “I don’t want to be there either, but what else can we do?”
Ezra watched Cyn and Zeke a few feet ahead until Zeke collapsed into Cyn’s arms, sobbing. “Forget.”
“Forget?”
“Forget our time with her. Forget her. Do our duty.”
My fingers flexed at my sides. “Can you do that? Pretend none of it happened? I know we weren’t there long, but it felt like an eternity. And you know what? It wasn’t enough.”
Ezra finally looked at me, eyes as dead as his tone. “We don’t have a choice.”
He turned away and continued toward our home, but I couldn’t move.
Did we really have no choice?