Chapter 22 The Spirit Speaks #2
Across the table, Althok quirked one brow, but his expression was skeptical.
“She says…” Manna cleared her throat nervously. “She says your mind is a dark place she does not wish to—”
“Tell her that I don’t give a fuck what she thinks of my mind. I want my questions answered, and if you can’t hear them, I’ll find someone who can.”
His tone left no confusion about the unspoken threat of why he’d go to someone else.
Manna lifted her shaking hands to the table’s edge, gripping it as if it were a lifeline.
‘Tell him your guide knows who he is, and what he does, and if he doesn’t ask himself, she will tell him what is true, even if he doesn’t wish to hear it.’
She relayed the sentiments in formal tones, using mystical terms, but Althok’s upper lip curled back from his teeth.
“I tire of these games. Does your guide know anything useful for me, or not?” he growled.
Manna’s face fell as she leaned back in her chair, still gripping the edge of the table.
‘It’s your fucking funeral, Althok.’ I let her hear me say it, and then I shoved everything into her mind, overwhelming her so that her head sank back and she gasped. Even as she stumbled and stammered, she relayed my thoughts faithfully.
“Your role in this nation fuels your ego and keeps you quiet, but serves little more than a distracting pageant. You stand aside from the true power, and count your money while the hearts of men are given to a blind fool. The… the Fallen uses you like a puppet—sticks his hand up your ass and makes you dance to the tune of his choosing. His magic tricks seduce and blind you and your people—”
“What the fuck—”
“Where is the king the Nephilim have earned? Where is the power in battle, and the mind sharp as a sword? Where are the men of power who carry more than wealth—they carry the esteem of the city, and the merchants and the rulers… Even the Centaurs no longer fear you—”
Althok shoved back in his seat, seething. “You’re lying. This isn’t from a spirit guide. You’re just trying to—”
“The Advisors Council has not made a decision on behalf of the king, or advised him, since he appeared. He was not appointed, nor crowned. Your opinions were not wanted. The Fallen speaks every word, thinks every thought, and moves every piece on the gameboard. You make yourself a pawn, and allow yourself to be distracted by the gleam of shiny jewels and gluttony.”
Althok went still. I smiled a sly smile of my own, grateful that Jann had been able to feed Yilan and I some choice details.
“The Fallen condemned you to death the moment you missed his summons because you were balls-deep in a bayan girl. You and your brothers. He speaks only to the Halfling on matters of detail, and ignores the rest of you—because you are too easily pleased by mere scraps of what he might give. Lazy idiots. Beware. Your time is running out. Althok, your throat will open and your lifeblood spill the moment the Fallen has determined he no longer requires your flesh sack for his charade. You and the others have given the Nephilim over to his hands, and will die like pigs when he no longer needs you.”
Althok’s eyes had gone wide. He gripped the table now too. “He’s… he’s the Fallen. Lucifer. He is our power—”
“If his power is so mighty, why did he bring you a child-mind? If his gaze is so far reaching, why didn’t he save Gault from death?
He was overtaken by the only male with the strength to resist. He has chosen this path to save his own skin.
You let yourself be led into the arena by a golden ring through your nose, dick swinging, blind to your own death on the horizon—”
Althok shoved back from the table so hard it shifted on the floor and pinned Manna in her chair.
She cut off speaking with a grunt and I gasped, almost forgetting myself and leaping forward to help her.
However she was only surprised. She pushed her chair back and scrambled to her feet as Althok began yanking at the velvet curtains in a panic, searching for the door by which he’d entered.
Heart pounding with elation—the Neph was clearly terrified—I pressed on Manna’s mind, ordering her to keep talking, and she did, standing in the room with her fists at her sides, crying the words to him as he searched for the exit.
‘Tell your brothers on the council, Althok! Time ticks, and the Fallen counts for your death. Only one can fight him. Only one knows how to resist him. Look for the leader who stood in defiance—’
With a garbled cry, Althok finally found the part in the curtains, and threw himself at the door.
I stopped speaking into Manna’s mind, and she stopped screaming at him.
She stood there in the half-light from the lanterns of the room beyond this one shining through the fluttering gap in the velvet curtains, her shoulders rising and falling. Red in her cheeks.
Then she shook her head and touched her temple.
“Who… who are you?” she whispered, her voice awed. “I haven’t heard your words before. So clear… Who are you, that you frighten a Neph and—?”
‘I am a friend, sent by the Creator.’
I wished I could say more, as her hand dropped to cover her mouth and her eyes welled like the words had touched her heart.
“Will you be here always, now? Will you help me? Please…”
For the first time, my conscience pinched at this deception. I wanted to tell her, wanted to show her, but it was too dangerous. I couldn’t give her any clue that might even hint at who I was.
‘The Creator watches over you. You’re never alone. I will come to you when I can, and I will help you when I can.’ I caught myself, about to ask her to leave clues to when Althok or the other leaders might come, then cursed. Spirits didn’t need calendars to follow.
“Please,” she whispered. “Please come back. We need you. The Neph have—"
‘I’m aware of the descending darkness here,’ I sent, then smiled as inspiration hit. ‘God has heard your cries and sent help. A true king who brings light. You’ve heard the rumors of him—they are true, and more. Tell your sisters. Help comes.’
“Wait! Help comes from where? Who? How do we—”
I had to flee, or I’d give in and say too much. Closing my ears to her pleas, because they brought tears to my eyes, I rushed from the room, only barely remembering to stay in the shadows and retain the shroud.
I was so distracted and thrilled and afraid, that it wasn’t until I got to the external wall of the building, and saw the low light seeping in through the window at the shopfront, that I realized how long I’d stayed.
Dawn was rising, and with it, the shadows that allowed me to walk invisibly dimmed.
I’d never been as strong as Yilan and able to move more than a few feet in light. Yet here we were, with light only growing every second.
With a silent curse, I dove through the wall and out into the graying shadows of the building.
I had to get back to the palace now.
I rushed, which was a mistake. Moving too quickly through the shadows—especially when there was too much light—required more strength, and could result in clothing or body parts flickering in and out of visibility.
Twice on that harrowing rush through the awakening city, men turned their heads quickly, following movement in their peripheral vision.
I was so grateful there were deeper shadows at the foot of the palace walls, when I finally made it that far—though they narrowed to bare feet before I made it to the gate.
Then I faced the courtyard, now bathed in warm dawn light.
I could only see two stablehands, both leading animals out to the hitching rail for their day’s work. Even though they might not care to see a slave cross the courtyard, any eyes might recognize me, and a passing word to the wrong ear…
I bit my lip. There was no choice. The shadow I’d followed to get this far was only inches deep now, and would disappear in moments.
Raising my head, and walking with the air of a Captain of the Crown, rather than a slave, I strode across the courtyard, disappearing into the shadows inside the palace door, only barely dodging servant girls carrying bedpans for emptying, which made me push faster—because that meant it was even later than I’d thought.
I had to dodge the Chamber servant, dutifully walking the halls to douse all the candles and torches, but that was almost a relief since the shadows deepened in his wake.
Still, I was almost weeping with weariness and emotional exhaustion when I could finally slip through the wall into Jann’s chamber.
I let go of the shadows with a heavy sigh and began unbuttoning my shirt immediately. Jann wasn’t in bed, though the sheets were messy—he moved a lot in his sleep. He’d probably been called to Gall’s side. I would undress and sleep.
I let my clothes drop where I stood, and crawled into the bed with a groan. It creaked as my weight settled, and I sighed as soon as my head hit the pillow, reaching for Jann in my mind, but unable to reach him. It wasn’t uncommon here. He’d come for me if—
“Lady Diadre? Is that you?” Caelan’s voice was hesitant and shaky. She wasn’t usually here this early. I clutched the sheets and blankets to cover myself and sat up.
“It is, Cae, but I’m—”
“Oh, thank God!” Caelan pushed the bedchamber door open and rushed inside, her eyes red as if she’d been crying, as she ran across the floor to the bed.
“You’re safe! Thank God. Are you well? Do you need anything?
Have you been hurt?” She touched my shoulder and ran a gentle touch down my arm, as if to convince herself I was really there.
“I—no, I’m fine. I mean, I’m very tired, but I wasn’t hurt. I was just caught—”
“Please, my Lady, you must stay here and rest. Jann is beside himself. He’s out looking for you, and left me here to help you in case you returned. He’s been in a fury—he thought you’d been caught!”
My heart thumped uneasily, and my head began to ring as she rushed on, babbling about how frightened Jann was, convinced that I’d been cornered or discovered. That the Advisors we were hunting had set a trap.
My heart sank as I imagined Jann, panicked—convinced that both his mate and child were in death’s hands. I would have panicked as well, but he knew I was walking the shadows—and if I’d been killed, he’d have known that too, when our bond was severed.
God, my stomach lurched at the thought—and that brought a surge of nausea.
Caelan must have seen me pale, because she suddenly stopped babbling and ran, sweeping up a bowl and towel from the sideboard and bringing it to me, then rushing for a pitcher of water and a cup.
It took time for the nausea to pass. Time to breathe through it, and remind myself that I sat on a lovely, soft bed, not a rocking boat. Time for Caelan to help me drink slowly and lay back. She laid a cool cloth on my head as I breathed, and closed my eyes and drifted…
—to jolt awake when the door to the room flew open so hard it bounced on the wall, then shuddered as it swung closed again, as a furious, frightened, and devastating Nephilim Halfling, with eyes that promised death, stormed into the room.
“Caelan, get the fuck out. I’ll handle her from here.”
Caelan and I both gaped, as Jann stormed towards the bed, his face red. Caelan froze as I opened my mouth to reassure him.
But Jann roared, “I said, GET OUT!”
I flinched and Caelan squeaked, and ran for the door.