Chapter 33 #2
“You think she won’t?” Atlas asked, apprehension causing his palms to slick with sweat. He never considered the possibility that Reine wouldn’t release Everinne from the Mystic Obscura at all.
“I don’t know.” Veros pinched the stig between his fingers then flicked it once, sending a tiny clump of ash scattering across the freshly fallen snow.
“Reine has a drop of her blood. If she figures out what Everinne can do, that her magic is dark and turbulent, that she lacks the control necessary to wield it with restraint and command…then Everinne herself could become the bargaining chip.”
“Reine would sell her off to the highest bidder.” A shudder of unease streaked down Atlas’s spine. The alarm he tried to quell coursed through him, heightening his awareness. “To someone like my father.”
Never before had Atlas known such an all-consuming rage.
The bond roared at the thought, the urge to protect her, to destroy and ravage, to wreck and ruin anything that dared threaten her with harm swallowed him whole.
The invisible strand of power tethering him to Everinne sliced through his muscles, ripped through his bones, peeling back every layer of his defenses until it secured his soul to hers.
Her gasp echoed through his mind as he reached for her, as the mating bond captured her beating heart, so her breath, her thoughts, every aspect of her being, belonged to him.
Atlas didn’t relent, he grasped the thread binding them and wove it into the deepest layer of his soul, through his very aura, until he knew without a doubt that he could follow her to the ends of the earth, to realms not their own, and no matter what, he would always find her.
“Or worse,” Veros muttered, tossing his stig to the ground, watching as the ember died and hissed in the veil of snow.
“Who could possibly be worse?” As far as Atlas was concerned, his father ranked fairly high among the most despicable and abhorrent males in all of Prava. In all of Aedran, if he was being honest.
There was no one worse than Kralv Oldrich Skye.
But Veros met him with a long look, one that spoke of hushed rumors, forgotten vices, and terrors unseen. “Whoever is hunting the immortals.”
“Fucking skies.” Damn Veros and his infuriating talent for always knowing the exact wrong thing to say. It didn’t matter if he was right, but his gift for pissing Atlas off usually happened at the most inopportune moments, when it was quite possibly the last thing he wanted to hear.
“Thanks, like I didn’t need more of a reason to worry about Everinne’s safety.” Atlas rolled his eyes to the evening sky. The moon was haloed behind a wall of clouds, its silver glow barely visible as snow swirled down in heavy clumps. “My father is bad enough. But a fae hunter?”
Atlas’s muscles pulled taut at the thought.
He’d almost lost Ever to a hunter once before.
He wasn’t going to allow it to happen again.
Veros might be the Lord of Time, but even Atlas knew every hour that passed was an hour wasted.
Time was grains of sand, and he could do nothing but watch as it continued to slip through his fingers. Eventually, it would run out.
“I have to speak with Reine.”
He turned around and started for the path that would lead him back to the palace when Veros stepped directly in his way, lifting one hand to stop him.
“Not tonight. You know damn well that if you don’t show up to the bonfire of Zemni Boheme, with Everinne, your father will make you pay for it.
” Veros stepped closer, leveling Atlas with a glare that harbored death.
“Oldrich will make you both pay for it. Every action you take from now on will have a direct impact on my sister’s life. Don’t forget it.”
Again, Veros spoke the truth.
Oldrich had a sick love for doling out punishment through violence and verbal assault.
His fondness for disparaging comments and remarks are what kept every servant in the entirety of the palace silent for fear of his wrath.
His magic allowed him to know the depths of someone’s greatest fear, and he used their terror to his advantage, a prized weakness to keep him in control.
His threats knew no bounds, his ability to grant nightmarish circumstances were limitless.
He possessed the horrible ability to show his victims through visions in their minds exactly how they would suffer if they chose to disobey him.
Atlas’s greatest fear was once worrying he would never amount to anything.
That he was worthless, that his entire existence amounted to little more than a good fuck with pretty eyes.
It was bad enough his father had shunned him from all palace dealings.
When his mother was alive, he’d at least had a seat at the table.
He’d been willing to accept that he wouldn’t ever be enough—he hadn’t been blessed with fire, or frost, or shadows.
His power was one of a sexual nature. It was laughable.
Demeaning. So, he’d owned it. Flaunted it.
Forged it into a fucking weapon. Until there wasn’t a single fear left inside of him for his father to expose.
Except for maybe spiders.
Atrocious little creatures.
Still, he would rather face an army of spiders than see Everinne hurt or in danger.
Everinne.
If Oldrich realized she was his weakness, that Atlas feared for her safety above all else, that her love was the one thing he feared being denied, there would be no end to his torment.
“Fine. I’ll attend the lighting of Zemni Boheme with Everinne.” Atlas held out his hand, watching in silence as the tiny flakes melted against the warmth of his palm. “But tomorrow, I must go speak with Reine.”
Veros nodded once, and the sound of thundering footfalls echoed through the stillness of the gardens. Someone was running. Toward them.
Atlas caught Caedian’s scent on the cold breeze, it swept in through the swirling snow—aged oak and musk. Then his Captain of the Guard halted before him, his disheveled white hair blown back from his face, his pale eyes alight with urgency.
“Your Imperial Highness.” Caedian’s breath misted before him and he locked his arms by his side.
Atlas was immediately on edge by his formal demeanor. “What is it?”
Caedian’s hesitant gaze cut to Veros, then returned to him. “There’s been another disappearance.”
“Who?” Atlas asked.
His captain’s throat worked, and he clenched his fists twice, a tell of warring confidence. “It’s not good, Your Highness, she?—”
“Who?” he demanded.
Caedian straightened. “Zoryana Daleth.”
Oh, fuck.
“Zoryana?” Veros choked out, his brows pulling into a deep scowl. “As in Zory, Everinne’s best friend?”
“The very one.” Caedian nodded and leaned closer. In the haze of shrouded moonlight, his gray eyes glowed against the jeweled umber of his skin. His voice was hushed when he said, “As in High Priestess Rozalie’s daughter.”
Fucking skies.
Atlas thought the situation was bad before, but he’d been sorely mistaken.
It had just gotten a thousand times worse.
When Ever found out Zoryana was missing, there would be no consoling her, no stopping her.
She would become completely irrational, her decisions would deteriorate from borderline unsafe to damn near treacherous.
“Does she know?” Atlas directed his question to Caedian, praying to the stars and skies that he already knew the answer. “Does Everinne know?”
“No, my prince. Not yet.” Caedian lowered his head, bowing slightly. He reached into the front pocket of his long coat and pulled out a letter, then handed it to Atlas. “I was informed a few moments ago by one of the lower-ranking priestesses of the Scarlet Moon, who delivered this for you.”
Atlas accepted the crisp piece of parchment.
It was sealed with scarlet wax and imprinted with an image of a moon.
His title and name were scripted across the front in scrawling, hurried penmanship.
He folded the letter and tucked it into the back pocket of his pants.
There would be time to read Rozalie’s words later.
He started for the palace. “I must tell Everinne.”
“Wait.” Veros reached out and grabbed his shoulder.
The look on his face reflected a plea, but also a warning.
“Zoryana was the only one who could help Everinne control her magic. She absorbed Ever’s emotions when they became too temperamental.
If you tell her now, especially after last night and everything she endured with Jarek, there’s a good chance she’ll fall apart. We could lose her completely.”
“We’re already losing her, Veros.” Atlas shook his head, pulling away from his friend’s hold.
“We thought we were protecting her by keeping her magic a secret, by letting her stumble down this detrimental path of despair. You’ve seen what she’s done to herself, the dangers she willingly runs into headfirst without thinking, all because she’s been trying to hide for so long. ”
He paced in a small circle, the understanding of so many years of neglect crushing his heart beneath a stone of guilt.
“We’ve nearly killed her.” He stilled, sucking in a harsh breath, welcoming the freezing air into his lungs.
“Are you aware she’s not using her magic at all ?
That’s she’s letting it fester. That it only slips out in moments of emotional turmoil, or when she feels like the entirety of the world is caving in on her?
No wonder she has nightmares and drinks herself into oblivion, she’s driving herself mad. ”
“We’ll bring her back.” A look of resolution passed over Veros’s face, and his jaw clenched in hardened determination.
He rolled his shoulders back, the movement jerky and snapping with tension.
“She already walks the line between control and chaos, we just have to bring her back. She needs confidence in her abilities, and reassurance that her power, her magic, is more than simply a death sentence.”