Chapter Thirty
Asher
“ Y ou cannot stutter. You cannot hesitate. You cannot so much as flinch. Do you understand? If you want our allegiance, if you want us to fight for you, then convince them. Not me.” Despite the condescending tone, I was aware of how true Trint’s words were. He was not saying this to hurt me but to prepare me. He wanted this to work as much as we did. And it had to, because this would be our biggest success to date.
“I understand.” It was the most complacent and agreeable I had been with him, so it was no surprise that he stared at me with squinted eyes of suspicion. Trint was putting himself on the execution block, prepared to sacrifice everything for the slim chance that he would walk away with infinitely more. So I would give it to him.
There was no longer any other option. No world in which I would fail. I could not.
“Most of those in attendance will understand the language of the gods, as it is vital to our religious teachings. So you do not have to worry. Even those who are not fluent will be able to have someone next to them translate. Just speak as you always would.” I nodded as he spoke, his hands moving in time with his words in what seemed to be a nervous tick. “Well, as you normally would but far less antagonistic.”
I scoffed but could not stop the smile that tilted the corners of my lips. We continued walking, Farai and Henry on either side of me, my arms intertwined with theirs. Both had complimented my look, promising that I appeared every bit the goddess I was about to pretend I was.
Wrath, though, was far more honest. “Did we want her to look like a goddess or an offering?”
Trint had disguised his laugh with a cough, but Farai had not attempted to mask his in the slightest. Henry, of course, did his best not to laugh at anything the dalistori said out of spite, naturally.
Still, I walked on, exuding confidence and commanding the attention of every person who passed by us. “Faithfuls,” Trint had called them. The people who wore the same robes I had over my dress now, the same ones I had been wearing when we arrived. Each had devoted their lives to the temple—to the gods. Each looked at me wide-eyed, one going so far as to bow as we passed. The black circlet of diamonds that rested above my brow was likely what truly convinced them, the final touch. It began at my hairline, swirling down in a twisting pattern similar to my gown until the pointed tip ended just between my eyebrows.
A crowd could be heard as we neared the colosseum, which held worship weekly for anyone in their realm to attend. It lay behind the temple, connected through a stone tunnel that took us underground, where it had been built. Trint had explained that the walls of rock helped amplify sound, but I wondered if it was more about being closer to their preferred god, whom I feared favored death far more than creation. Perhaps he resided in the Underworld rather than the Above, and this was their way of digging themselves down to him.
Either way, it was horrific to slowly descend into the earth, the tunnel lit only by torches placed incrementally on the walls. The air was stale, tasting of history and loss and obsession. I wanted out, and I could hear the projected thoughts of unrest from the two males on either side of me, both their arms tightening around mine.
It felt like every time I had been thrown into my low level room in the palace. It felt like being slowly led to an undoing. It felt like a trap.
Then the roaring grew impossibly louder, and I nearly let go of my self-proclaimed protectors to cover my ears. It hurt, in the way only fae ears could. Farai flinched beside me, and I looked to see the pained expression on his face that likely mirrored my own. Henry stopped, eyeing both of us. At Farai’s side, Wrath hissed in discomfort, shrinking down until he was small enough to crawl up my body and rest on my shoulder.
“Does it not hurt your ears?” I asked Henry, finally covering my own, the jagged tops making it easier for my hands to cup around them in protection.
Henry shrugged. “It is not comfortable, but our kind were once human. We do not have the same hearing that you do.”
It hit me then, the truth of his words. Suddenly, Bellamy’s theory that I was injected with some sort of magic sounded like the only right answer. How had I ever questioned my parentage when I constantly peered at the portrait of my mother—one of the few items that graced the walls of the palace—growing up? Or even the smaller portrait of both my parents that hung over their shared resting place in the royal tomb. I had their dark locks, their light brown skin, and my mother’s heart-shaped face. I was them in so many ways. I was the daughter of Florencia Daniox, Royal Tomorrow, strongest Reader of her time.
How had I been so horrid as to doubt such a thing?
With a deep breath and a curt nod at Trint, who tapped his foot impatiently just ahead, I urged them along, grinding my teeth at the pounding in my ears. Farai seemed to force himself forward with the same will that I had, and I dipped into his mind to watch as he thought of his husband, our sweet and loving Jasper. For him, for Nicola, for every fae, we would do this.
Softly—uncertainly—I lulled him, giving him all the peace I could not give myself. In a way, it was like living through him, feeling that assurance settle bone-deep within his chest. Light shone through a wide opening now, the end of the tunnel in sight. Somehow, that did nothing to reassure me. Instead, it lit every warning signal in my mind, bells ringing and screams sounding. As if every horrific memory was telling me that this would be a bad idea.
At the end of the tunnel, we stepped into a large open ring of dirt, which was surrounded by seating and stairs made of rock. Nearly every seat was full, reaching to the top of the large hole that held the coliseum. I had never seen so many beings in one place. My jaw dropped, my brain momentarily too stunned to register the pain of how much louder it was from here.
Farai, on the other hand, fell to the ground. His screams broke me from my trance, and suddenly, it was too much to bear. The piercing in my ears. The thoughts of hundreds of thousands of people shoving into that golden gate protecting my mind. Farai writhing on the ground as he bled from his ears, eyes, nose, and mouth.
“Henry, get him to Ranbir!” I shouted, watching as even the demon’s freckled face scrunched in pain. He hesitated, eyes flicking from me to the crowd and back again. “Now!”
The king put up a hand, silencing the large crowd within seconds. Could he not have done that sooner?
Finally, Henry nodded, lunging for Farai and disappearing in a flash of white light. Gasps rang out, coming from people all around us. They had likely never witnessed such a thing. Seeing as this was their normal day of worship, it was safe to say that those in attendance were among the most devout of the mortals. Which meant they would see this as their first sign that something other—something greater—was among them.
With a deep breath, I pushed down the nausea that came from the agony in my ears and pet Wrath with my pointer finger. He nestled further into my hair, using it like a barrier.
I walked to Trint, who had made his way to the center. My feet carried me at a slow and confident pace, though the ringing in my ears had not so much as faded, leaving me unable to hear whatever Trint was saying. Had the crowd really gone quiet, or could I simply not hear them?
Behind him was a large statue of a violet throne, carvings of skulls and flowers etched into it, connected with swirling patterns and runes. Atop the throne was a male, his lengthy and thin body clothed in billowy robes. The same as my own, I realized. His black hair flowed down his body, which was left unpainted, reaching the floor and pooling along with the purple robes. His ears, I noted, were round—like a mortal’s. The death god’s eyes were what really stood out though, their bright golden hue startling.
Trint’s arm reached out, pulling my attention away from the statue. With a smile I hoped looked genuine, I placed my hand in his, watching as he lowered his lips to my skin. Needing to know what was happening, I opened a small door within my mental shield, the gate creaking slightly as it welcomed the thoughts of those around me. My free fist clenched so tightly that my nails pierced my flesh, the skin trying to heal but failing when I did not loosen the hold. There were so many thoughts, too many.
The gods walk among us!
It must be the Goddess of the Sun and Moon, did you see the light?
King Trint has brought the gods to Gandry!
King Trint will save the world!
Bow!
Pray!
The gods! The gods! The gods! The gods!
Then there was Trint, his stoic face not betraying the calculating and eager thoughts that filled his mind.
Are you ready for the show, Asher?
I was sure that his mental voice matched the words that came from his lips, but because I could not hear, I took no chances and offered only a curt nod in return. Trint smiled, the dazzling flash of teeth like armor to a king.
Trint’s mouth moved, and I forced out the other voices, focusing every ounce of my magic on him. I crafted a new gate, one that surrounded only the two of us—fighting off everyone but him. I listened through his mind as he spoke to his people.
Ladies and gentleman, I so humbly thank you for allowing this change in worship. I know the holy day is revered; therefore, I pray you understand that this alteration to schedule is not something I have done lightly.
Thoughts pelted against me, trying and only barely failing to break through my gate. Trint’s words were definitely rousing them, though I was unsure if it was in a positive way or not.
Today, I beg of you to watch—to bear witness to—an extraordinary blessing. One that not even our holiest of ancestors were afforded.
Turning to face me fully, Trint’s smile did not falter, did not so much as twitch. But his mind…oh, his mind told another story.
Princess, if you can hear me, make this count. Know that you will not get another chance, and neither will I.
Lying to them now was for the greater good. Not only for the demons and the fae but for them too. At least, that was what I told myself as I nodded to the king.
His warm hands met my shoulders, and as he helped me out of my robe, I shattered the gate. Bars of gold snapped in half, the barrier protecting my mind falling apart. It hit the hedges and the flowers, every ounce of protection I had built so long ago crumbling before me.
Stunned thoughts beat into me, feeling like a punch to the head in their fierceness. I nearly collapsed, my knees shaking and my vision swimming. But I did not fall. Instead, I forced my chin higher, and I readied myself for what I did best.
Let the dramatics begin.
Eyes falling closed, I slowly lifted my arms, letting my head tilt back. Wrath remained still, his claws digging into my skin. And then, with aching precision, I shoved my magic out, feeling as it grabbed hold of each mind it passed. They were like the tree roots on the outer walls of the temple, intricate and winding, but instead of broken and crumbling, these brightly lit up roots danced and sang.
The well of magic in my chest responded in kind, a conductor building their orchestra to a stunning crescendo. With every new instrument that began to play, my chest hummed louder, my magic swishing in the air to guide them all.
At the halfway mark, my fingers went numb.
At the two-thirds mark, I lost all feeling in my upper body.
At the three-quarters mark, my entire body was gone to me.
By the time my magic was crawling towards the final row of mortals, I was covered in tiny pinpricks, the tingle painful. It was like awakening after a long slumber. I felt both exhausted and revitalized, old and new. Somehow, I had simultaneously become the wave and the shore which it barreled into—like a never still, yet always steady, force of nature.
I opened my eyes, facing the crowd.
Mortals of Gandry and beyond, my name is Asher Daniox. I am the holder of minds, a goddess made flesh. I am here before you to call upon the holiest of warriors.
I registered the sudden shift, the edge to every mind in the coliseum. There was terror there as the low tenor of my mental voice sounded inside their heads. This was the make or break moment, when the mortals of Gandry—and elsewhere—would choose whether or not they would follow me.
Once, the beings of this world lived in unison. Beside you walked creatures with magic and power, and in the eyes of the gods, all were equal. But wickedness found its way inside Alemthian. War plagued your lands, destroyed your homes, and shredded your souls. Still, we gods see that worth in your hearts. We acknowledge your value and trust in your minds. The time has come, my children, to stand and restore the balance.
When the first mortal stood, prepared to run, I dug deeper into their minds—found purchase there.
Stay, I told them. Listen.
For the greater good, I thought as my stomach began to churn.
I ask you not to bow or pray but to lift your swords and fight for tomorrow. The fae king and queen seek to take up arms against the demon king. They wish to conquer and destroy. But hear me when I say, the fae are not your enemy, nor are the demons. You are one, and you must fight for that today and every day after.
I heard Xavier’s voice then, the memory pulling my thoughts from the scene in front of me.
“When two of us decide to put ourselves above the realm, the realm shall fall. Therefore, it is with great sorrow that I sentence them both to death. For if not them, then all of us shall surely perish.”
As those words echoed inside my head, merging with the steadily growing uproar within the coliseum, I noted that I was slowly getting my hearing back. Arms held out, as if waiting for an embrace, I caught sight of a pair of honey eyes. My own began to prick with tears as Sipho— my Sipho —smiled at me from the front row. His deep skin was just as youthful as the last time I saw him, his black curls a disaster. He wore a silver tunic and black trousers, with his mothers necklace around his neck—my necklace. Above the sound of the crowd, I heard his soothing and lovely voice as he spoke to me.
“You can do this, My Soul.”
I let out a soft sob as he nodded my way, encouraging me to press on. So I did.
Your devout and brave king has promised his sword. Will you follow in his steps? Will you fight for your kingdom, your realm, and your world? Will you fight for your gods?
“As above, so below!” Trint shouted, a fist rising into the air.
Then they were all standing, their screamed chant of “as above, so below” bursting my ears and stealing that numbness from me. A wave of agony washed over my body, taking my breath. My vision went black, Sipho’s clapping form the last thing I saw. And then I was gone.
***
“Well, it’s definitely an interesting development. But this does make everything easier.” A voice, sultry and deep, was speaking. That meant I could hear again, how nice.
Whisky and leather hit my nose, a smell that was not heavy or overwhelming but rather pleasant. When I opened my eyes, I was in a bed that was all too familiar. My upper body shot up, terror leaving me breathless. This time, the gray sheets felt more real. As if, somehow, I was here in truth, rather than just in my mind.
That frightened me more than the female and male that stood in the corner, both watching me with satisfied and eager smiles. The female, who I assumed was the one who spoke before, was ethereal. She had blonde hair, which just barely kissed her sharply pointed ears. Her skin was dark, full lips painted in a stunning shade of red. On her body she wore a cascading red dress, the silk hugging her full figure. The look in her eyes bordered on predatory, like I was an offering gifted to her.
Padon stood at her side, tall and muscular, with a far better hair cut this time around—the dark strands now more even and full. His shirt was also a sort of violent scarlet, the loose-fitting blouse looking both too large and somehow just right. His trousers were pure black, at such odds with his nearly translucent skin. Around his shoulders was a thick, black cloak. He stared at me with an excited longing, like someone who was starved of something and then finally had it within their reach.
I think I feared his expression more than hers.
“Leave us and tell no one.” Padon’s words proved that he likely was an emperor because the female, who looked just as formidable as him, merely gave a shallow bow and left the room. “Hello, my love.”
“I am not your anything, Padon.” My scolding sounded far more passive than it should have, likely because I was so startled by how soft and cold and real the silk felt on my skin. Padon did not seem to mind my chastising, looking more pleased than he ever had before. “What is different about this time?”
My words came out in a whisper, but the creature heard me, his smile growing impossibly wider. That was when I noticed his eyes, they were not white anymore. They were dark, nearly black, but I could not make out the exact color.
He made his way to me, stopping at the bed, which was tall enough to reach his waist. Leaning down, he placed his hands on the mattress, causing my body to lean towards him as it dipped. I scoffed, trying to lean away, but Padon grabbed my chin and forced me to face him.
“Everything has changed, Asher.” Grip unforgiving, he reached up and slid his thumb over my bottom lip, those dark eyes tracking the movement. “I can feel you, my love. Can you feel me?”
That was when I realized that I could, in fact, feel him. Not in the same way as before, where everything had seemed oddly distant, but in a way that made my nerve endings light in warning. When Padon’s lips crashed onto mine, I was so startled by the genuine sensation of his cold flesh that I did not immediately move.
His fingers gripped my hair, tugging on the strands as his tongue attempted to forcefully part my lips. Horror filled me, and then I was shoving him off, my knee jabbing upwards to connect with his groin. Padon crumpled to the ground, hissing in pain as he went down. Scrambling away, I did not realize that I was still wearing my beaded gown until it was too late.
The quick and sharp movements caused the purple thread to snap, sending beads flying across the floor as the waist split in two. I slipped, feet tangling in the loose threads, and then I went flying off the end of a bed that was at least four feet high. My head hit first, smacking hard into the marble floor before my legs went sailing over, flipping my body.
For a moment, I laid there on my stomach in stunned silence. Confusion, surprise, and pain all mingled within me, leaving me no choice but to burst into a fit of laughter.
“You kneed me!” Padon’s rough voice was closer than I thought it would be, that earthy and nearly burning scent invading my senses once more. I continued to laugh, the sound slightly manic as I reached up and snagged the quilt to wrap around my body.
“You tried to shove your tongue down my throat, you pervert!” Catching my breath, I adjusted the quilt to conceal my exposed body and sat up fully. Padon was squatted down near me, his cheeks a bright blue and his elbows resting on his knees. Despite having clearly been hurt by my rejection just as much as my knee, his smile was genuine and full.
“You looked like you wanted me to,” he countered with a shrug.
My mouth fell open, all humor dying out. “In what world would I ever want that?”
We scrutinized one another as my words settled between us, gazes a mixture between my scowl and his smirk.
“An ideal one.” His voice sounded far too sincere to be even remotely nonchalant or joking. Which begged the question: Would he force me to help him create that world?
“Your version of ideal is my version of delusional. Let us agree not to visit there again.” Forcing my face to remain stony while my mind roared with building fury and fear, I stared the creature dead in the eyes. Stay calm, get information, and run. I could do that. “Speaking of worlds, I am in yours, right? Why did you bring me here?”
Not missing a beat, Padon stood and walked away, speaking to me over his shoulder. “One day in the future, we’ll look back on this fondly. Perhaps we’ll even tell our younglings.”
“We are never having younglings. Now, answer the question, you moron.” Calm. I was calm. What did Bellamy teach me? Be a pond? Yes, I was a pond, still and peaceful.
“Why wouldn’t I want you with me?” The arrogance of his tone as he grabbed a glass decanter and poured himself whisky sent me over an edge I was desperately trying to avoid. The imbecile had dropped stones in my pond, letting loose ripples of fury.
“You are a psychopath!” I screamed, standing so quickly that black dots blocked my vision. With unsteady feet, I stomped towards him.
“I’m simply a male in love.” Turning to face me, Padon let his eyes roam over my quilt-clad body. Stupid, evil, foul creature.
“Send me home, now!” Like a petulant youngling, I snatched his cup and threw it against the nearest wall, the glass shattering on the floor and the whisky splattering on the wall. My chest heaved, body shaking.
I was so, so tired. Exhausted, even. Physically, mentally, emotionally.
“Eh, I don’t want to.”
No, I was furious.
“Stella save me,” I muttered, walking away to the nearest set of double doors. I would find my own way out, then. Damn him to the Underworld for all I cared.
“Ah yes, those wonderful gods. You know, when you first arrived, you were projecting some interesting thoughts and memories. I distinctly recall a statue of a rather hideous god atop a throne, the ruler of flowers and decay or something like that. Truly an unimpressive lot. Rest assured, Stella has no power here. I, on the other hand, have all the power, my love. Perhaps you can pray to me instead.”
With a final growl of rage, I threw open the doors and stomped down the hallway. Maybe one day I would refrain from walking semi-nude through a castle that was not mine.