Chapter Seven
Asher
D ay four.
Excruciating. That was the only word that could describe this pain. In truth, I did not realize Mia had such a talent for torture—or that she had the guts to inflict this level of damage with her own two hands. The whipping I understood. Perhaps I even expected it. But the first snapping of bone as she screamed at me to submit was the moment I finally understood the lengths she would go for power.
Not that the knowledge of such a thing did much for me as I leaned against the bars of my cell, my leg bent at an odd angle and my left hip bone peeking through my shredded leathers.
“I spy something black,” Sterling said passively. I took in a heaving breath, the rattling sound reminding both of us that my lungs were not healing as quickly as they should. The blocker and the poison they were likely feeding me were doing a fine job of keeping me weak.
“Is it…the…rock…two feet to the left of…the wall sconce?” I asked, staring at the expanse of dark rock that made up the dungeon walls.
“Nope.” Darn, I should have picked the one two and a half feet to the left. With a sigh, I curled in on myself slightly, silently begging for death to just fucking take me already. “Ash, we talked about this. You have to stay awake until Tish comes to heal you.”
A groan left my lips, the sound muffled by the sloshing of air hitting my flooded lungs. It burned, horribly so. But of course, I had to be strong. Just as I always had to be. My entire life I was told to be more than I was. Many thought that my magic made me special, but my body knew better—I was just the same as everyone else. The blood that leaked dutifully from my leg was a scarlet reminder that I was nothing more than an average fae.
I was no god.
That thought brought me back to the memory of Padon laughing after I stabbed him in the heart. “Do you…know anything of…the gods?”
“The gods? Yes, actually. I spent quite a long time with my nose buried in texts within the walls of the Temple of Gods,” he answered, his tone nonchalant. Before I could say anything else, I heard the prince shuffle and his voice ring out once more. “Though, I spent far more time with my cock buried in faithfuls.”
His laughter rang through the dungeons as I scoffed, my own chuckles impossible to hide. Especially as pain from the movement made them sound strangled and weak.
“Will you tell…me about them?” My question came out strained and slow, the words feeling as if they would break through my clenched teeth. Eternity spare me, my leg hurt. So badly. “I know so little.”
“Well, the first thing is that gods were blessed, not born. Their magic came from the Above, where they would transcend mortality and become ever-living. It is said that the only way for a god to die is by the hands of another god, in which they must remove their magic.” Interesting. So it was not only Padon who could not die. “There are ten gods other than Asta, your prince’s goddess and late queen. Stella, Goddess of Sun and Moon. Achari, God of Time and Void. Padon, God of Death and Creation. Karys, Goddess of Love and Hate. Jonah, God of Peace and War. Druj, Goddess of Deception and Candor. Kyoufu, God of Fear and Bravery. Iniko, God of Chaos and Order. Venturae, Goddess of Fate and Chance. And, last but not least, Anastasia, Goddess of Sin and Virtue.”
“How do you know of their names?” I asked in surprise, flinching at the sting in my chest from straightening my back.
“The Temple of Gods has one of Asta’s journals,” Sterling stated casually, as if that was not something rather impressive. “Faithfuls believe that it was a gift from the goddess herself, but I think it was a demon who gave them the text. It is the sole scenario that makes sense to me. Our history dates back only the last two hundred years, as if nothing existed before then. Odd that all knowledge of demons disappeared with it. And for the demon queen to have gifted it to us? Stranger yet. But alas, the text is how I know. She names them.”
“Does she…say anything else…about the gods?” Eagerness and curiosity were evident in my tone, but I was unwilling to hide my interest. I was unsure why, but knowing more about Padon and Asta felt important, as if it would somehow help me get out of this situation.
“Well, we learned from her that the holder of Sun and Moon was always the one who ruled over the Above. However, something miraculous happened. A goddess was born . Gods and goddesses never mated, but Stella and Achari were in love. More than that, they were soul bonded. It is said that soul bonds are the strongest love a being can experience. Something greater than chance or choice. More like destiny.” A smile lifted one corner of Sterling’s mouth, a sort of awe seeping from his voice. Stirring within me was my magic, begging for freedom. I could taste the prince’s love for knowledge, the faintest tingle upon my tongue. Never before had my magic remained through a blocker, and I found myself trying to reach for it as Sterling continued. “And when the two mated, they conceived a child born glowing silver, whom they would name Asta. She possessed immense magic, more than any other god in existence. Stella and Achari would make the choice to afford Solana, Stella’s elder daughter, the seed of Sun and Moon when the time was right, but Asta would inherit the throne. Some objected, but most bowed down to the Goddess of Souls.”
“Souls?” I inquired, my surprise momentarily distracting me from both my magic and the excruciating agony.
“Yes. Asta could steal souls,” Sterling answered with a nod, his eyes slightly glazed over as he spoke. “Along with that, the sound of her voice could sway any being to her will.”
“Oh, yes…a Honey Tongue. That I knew.”
“A honey what?”
“Nothing, go on.”
“Okay, well, um. Where were we?”
“They bowed down…to Asta.”
“Yes, they bowed to her willingly. All was well, honestly. The Goddess of Souls and the God of Death and Creation were to rule over all. Many guessed at what god they might conceive, and all thought them such a lovely pair. But the future has a funny way of beating fate, and Asta would one day sit an entirely different throne. Some believe her change of heart was due to black magic, that being born instead of blessed with such gifts darkened her soul. In fact, many rumors suggest that Asta crafted the Underworld, where she would eventually damn souls that she no longer cared for. Perhaps that was where the idea that demons were hideously disfigured creatures from the fiery depths of below came about.”
With a shrug, Sterling reached over and grabbed a piece of stale bread from the golden plate near his thigh. Apparently, the royals had not budgeted for ugly plates to feed prisoners. Shame. It would be nice to not have to look at the offensive color.
“Did Stella not…care that her daughter’s…husband was murdered?” I pressed, desperate for more information.
“Oh, she cared. According to Asta’s journal, Stella sought vengeance against Padon, but he turned the other gods against her. Together, they usurped her, banishing their empress. Asta suggested that neither of them would ever see their home world again, and that they would both remain in the land where they had poured their magic.”
Their home. I had seen it, had I not? The palace where their portraits still rested, hidden in a room that looked like more of a shrine than an office. Did Padon regret his choice? Was there space for remorse in a creature so absorbed in their own selfishness?
“So then, what…happened to Asta?”
“No one in my realm knows that. Does your prince not have those answers?”
None of my injuries could have come close to the pain with which the term my prince brought me. The assault upon my chest felt like daggers slicing into me, breaking through bones and flesh, puncturing my heart and lungs. What a visceral feeling, to know how little you have after possessing so very much.
“I never asked…I cared for nothing but…the prevention of war.” After a beat of silence, I quietly added with a broken voice, “I did not love him…the way he deserved.”
“Hey, that cannot be true.” There was sincerity in his words, but all I could do was hear my own inner voice reminding me of the awful partner I had been, and how I would never get the chance to be better for Bellamy. What was he doing? Were they any closer to ending all of this? Without a word, I wrapped my arms around my chest, the aches and pain unable to reach me when so many thoughts pierced my every nerve. Maybe Bell would kill me and all of this would finally be over.
Tish walked in then, her face wan and her demeanor that of an overused horse. She looked as exhausted as I felt. At no point during my painful healing session did she speak, opting to remain silent and leave immediately after.
The second her footsteps faded, Sterling spoke. “Tell me about him.”
Startled, I looked towards the prince, his vibrant curls as wild as his sister’s. He had leaned towards me, his eyes wide and encouraging. Despite his handsome features, he looked so young sitting there, eagerly waiting to hear stories of love and loss. Like a curious child preparing for a bedtime story. Wholesome was the only word I could think to describe how beautifully inquisitive he was.
A smile split my face despite the morose turn of my mood. How did one explain Bellamy? He was so much more than a hair color or a hobby or a single word. He was…everything.
“He is easily one of the most ridiculous beings alive. He is cocky and obnoxious and self-serving.” Sterling scoffed, and I turned to find him gaping at me in horror. With a laugh, I continued. “He is also funny and brilliant. He is determined and fierce. His favorite color is black, but red is special to him. Of all the seasons, he prefers winter, because he enjoys the crisp air and the beauty of death—ever the tortured painter. He likes chocolate and potatoes—not together, though I would not put it past him to try such a thing. He has fought through so much pain and come out of it stronger each time. He never discriminates, and he believes in dreaming even when the nightmares invade your every sense. I can still picture the little freckles across his cheeks and how annoyingly perfect they looked when he would console me after a panic attack. How he would rub my back and tell me about the stars. He loves deeper than anyone I have met, and he is the best thing that has ever happened to me.”
“Wow, that is—I cannot even fathom such a love.”
“Neither can I, honestly. And he loved me even when I was broken and bitter and borderline heinous. One time, when we were traveling, I had gone two nights without sleep and I was particularly cranky. One of his Trusted, Lian, had sliced through my thigh with Air power. Even then, I think he saw what I would never admit—I let her. Sometimes I would just allow them to hit me. On those darker days, I reveled in the pain. It reminded me I was alive. We were at an inn, and he had sat next to me at a table. The others gave me space, but not him. He plopped into the seat next to me and told me my lips looked like they were in desperate need of a tongue swiping across them.” Sterling laughed then, bringing a ridiculous smile to my face. “I smacked him, but I found myself laughing. And that was all it ever took for him. He later laid down on the floor beside mine and Noe’s bed, and he asked me about my favorite memory—listening so intently as I spoke. Like each word that left my lips was a treasure.”
And there it was. The truth that I avoided in any way that I could. Bellamy had loved me more than anyone ever would—than anyone else ever could. And I feared not for myself, but for him. How would he recover from the loss of me? After nearly two years of giving so much just to have any piece of me, how would he survive having nothing but the ghost of my magic within his mind forcing him to never look back?
After a moment, I let out a husky cough, clearing my throat and blinking back the tears that threatened to spill from my eyes. Reaching up, I tugged at my hair, my brown locks matted from the blood and dirt that had dried within it.
“Did you ever find yourself attached?”
“Me? No, never. I did not want to be still, and that is what love does to you. It stops your feet, stills your heart. Love is similar to poison in that way.”
“Really, no one ever?” I asked, fully moving my body so I was sitting with my back against the jagged cell wall instead, Sterling and the bars to my left. He smirked my way, having already adjusted himself against the wall as well. “I guess you are only two decades old. That is not much time to find love.”
“We mortals do not have much time to do anything worthwhile,” he added with a shrug. As if his mortality was something casual of little importance. But it was not, was it? It was a tragedy. Though, perhaps it was also a blessing from Eternity. Less time to suffer. “There was someone that—never mind, you will laugh.”
My eyes widened, the pain in my head from the blocker rising with the quick movement. Ignoring it in favor of the conversation, I made a mock face of offense.
“How dare you, I am a perfectly kind and nonjudgmental being,” I chided, my mouth wide and hand against my chest. Sterling guffawed, his head pressing into the stone behind him. “Fine, I am a cranky bitch. But I will not laugh, I promise.”
After a moment of his warm brown eyes darting between each of mine, he finally sighed and nodded. Before he spoke, the prince shuffled, getting comfortable. Wonderful, a long and brutal tale. My favorite.
“Okay, I know you will think me insane, but a few months ago, a creature visited me here in the cells.” My back stiffened, flashes of beasts like the afriktor and the fetch reminding me of how dangerous the word creature was. Then I thought of Wrath, and my heart felt as if it might shatter. With a shake of my head, I rid myself of the gruesome picture of black blood drenching my hands and focused on Sterling, who had gone silent. His lips formed a thin line, eyes darting back and forth as he sat in what seemed like deliberation. Anxiously I waited until finally he spoke again. “Would you believe me if I told you I met a goddess?”
A sharp cackle slipped through my lips before I could seal them shut, Sterling’s answering huff of annoyance forcing me to raise my now healed fingers in surrender. “Wait, wait. I was not laughing at you. What you said was just funny because—” I paused, not truly knowing how to explain what happened with Padon. “You know what? I will tell you later. Just, please, keep going.”
For a moment he only glared at me, his warm brown eyes now mirroring his sister’s fierce ones. Lifting a brow, I smirked his way, a challenge of sorts.
“Fine, if you are so desperate to hear, then I will tell you. She said her name was Stassi and that she had the ability to feed off sin and virtue, as well as heighten both.”
“Like the Goddess of Sin and Virtue?”
“Precisely what I thought. Stassi does sound like a proper nickname for Anastasia. Now though, I wonder if my mind was just seeking company.”
“Why?”
“Because she has not come back since you arrived, and I know they have put nightshade in our food and water, which means I have likely just been hallucinating her and your presence has grounded me somewhat.”
“Nightshade? What is that?”
“You may know it as Belladonna.”
“How on Alemthian do you know what that tastes like?”
“It makes everything slightly sweeter. I had not tasted it before you came, but I wonder if that was because I was so focused on the loneliness and pain. I know what it tastes like because I learned about poisons and antidotes in Heratt. They specialize in it.”
“That is—”
“I see you continue to associate with the filth,” a deep voice rang out, the oily sound of it making my head swim. Theon.
I turned, facing the approaching figure of my old classmate. Just as he had been in his youth, Theon was a proud male, standing straight with his chin held high. He was broader now, his brown skin practically glowing. Once long, brown locks were now cropped short, those deep blue eyes staring at me with a fierce hunger.
I wanted to rip out his intestines and feed them to him.
Sterling must have been thinking something similar, because he stood and charged towards the bars. With a snarl, he reached for Theon through the cage, screaming in fury as the shifter’s body seemed to melt away—forming himself into the mortal prince. There were few things in this world that still scared me, but this—watching how easy it was for Multiples to masquerade as someone else—was horrifying.
Before us, clad in gold silk, stood the cruel mirage of Sterling. Yes, it was the Prince of Maliha that smiled our way, tsking at the mortal who was still attempting to claw his way through the bars of his prison. His golden curls were once more silky, his skin a creamy white rather than the sickly pale of the caged beast that now backed away from the iron confines that separated him from his imposter.
“Less than a week with our little princess and you are already out of wit. Impressive, Asher. You trained him when even Mia could not.” Theon clapped, smiling with Sterling’s lips and teeth, lacking all the warmth of the prince.
“Tell me, Theon, does your annoying voice not grate on your nerves like it does mine?” Theon glared my way, his hands raising to grip the bars of my cell door. I merely smiled his way, trying my best to not show him how truly unsettled I was by his presence. “Even in Academy, I remember thinking that the sound of you speaking made me want to vomit. Sterling, what is one thing that would be better than listening to this moron talk?”
Sterling snickered to my left, slowly letting his body slide down the wall without breaking eye contact with Theon. Though, the Shifter seemed to only have eyes for me. Rage radiated from him, my magic flaring within me like a bird with broken wings trying to take flight.
“Shitting my pants,” Sterling answered confidently, a smirk on his face.
“Oh, definitely. I think I would eat it if that meant giving my ears a reprieve from the aggravating sound of killjoy over there,” I added.
Beyond the bars, Theon seethed, his form once more melting back to his natural state. With a fierce smack to the door of my cell, he practically foamed at the mouth as he pointed my way. “You have not changed since Academy either, Ash. Even back then you thought yourself too good for us—too good for me. No matter how hard I tried to get your attention, you refused me time and time again. As if I were nothing but the dirt beneath your boot. And now look at you, bleeding and broken on a dungeon floor as I look down upon you in royal gold.”
How fortunate, to know nothing but infatuation and jealousy. Even back in Academy, I had been riddled with anxiety and duty—had known little peace at all apart from Sipho and my friends. But there Theon stood, rage clouding his eyes at the memory of a slight I committed nearly two centuries ago. Well, if he wanted to fester in such contempt and bitterness, then I would bury him in it.
“In my defense, you practically are the dirt beneath my boot,” I quipped.
“I have only known you for a short time, but I think you are quite the catch—like a plague,” Sterling added.
“A freeing presence—like death.” My response had Sterling laughing as he spoke next.
“The same thing I wish upon us both rather than continuing to be in your presence.” That had me cackling as well.
“I am sure all the females say the same thing when they see him naked,” I agreed.
“Enough! You both think yourselves so funny. But when your head is on a spike and your lips are around my cock, the only one laughing will be me.” Theon’s response was unimaginative. Not surprising.
“I do not know about that. I have laughed with a tiny carrot in my mouth before, it is not that hard.” I waved my hand his way, winking at him to enrage him more.
“I will—“
“Enough, Theon. You are indeed perpetually exhausting,” Mia chided, appearing next to Theon with Malcolm on her arm. It was disgusting, watching how the Shifter cowered in her presence. Pathetic. “And I have yet to forgive you for the stunt you pulled with Asher last fall. Get out of my sight or I’ll find someone more useful.”
With that, Theon briefly bowed and proceeded to run out of the dungeons, his slapping footfalls echoing across the rock walls.
“Why pretend it bothered you, Mia? We both know you chose him over me in that moment.”
“Wrong, as you so often are, my flower. I tortured that scum for two days after the harm he caused you. Still, I agree it was not enough. One day, when all is settled, I will let you seek your revenge. But first, you must apologize to me.”
“Never in all my two hundred years have I heard a more delusional statement. And I have met your son, so that says a lot.” I knew the words would enrage her, but I still threw in a shrug for the fun of it.
“Do not call him that!” Mia screamed, fury contorting her face into something sharp and fierce. Her breaths came in heavy pants as she stared me down, her icy glare a menacing and familiar thing. At least that I knew. Familiarity like that was almost comforting. “Who are you? You never used to speak in such a way. Even as a youngling you knew your place and stayed within it. This is not you, Asher.”
“Do you mean the youngling you would hold prisoner in a room that sucked the magic out of her? I remember once when I was nine years you left me in there so long that I lost count of the days. But of course, I should have been thankful, yes? Because you threw me a lavish party afterwards and let me sleep in your bed for a week. I remember the new dress you had made for me, the sweets you let me have, the beautiful stories you read to me. How stupid was I that I allowed two centuries worth of such a thing to happen? That I considered that abuse normal? Decades upon decades of hurt, and I convinced myself it was love. But you do not love me, Mia. You love no one but yourself. While you and this place have stayed the same, I have evolved—learned.” With my best attempt at a chilling smile, I outstretched my arms. “I am still me, but now I know better.”
“Perhaps you know better, but I will always know best.” With that, she turned and walked away, not looking back even when orders left her lips. “Malcolm, bring Asher to her low level room, I think she needs another lesson.”