Chapter 75
There is one person I go to before Ravin’s party. One person I trust with this information and can rely on. It’s well past midnight when I ease my way into Kaelis’s apartments.
He is still awake, hunched over his desk. Priss is perched on the edge and perks up the moment she sees me. I cross, scratching under her chin as I lock eyes with Kaelis and say, “Ravin is finally going after Liam.”
Kaelis sits a bit straighter. “Then we finally kill Liam.”
I lean on the desk, folding my arms. Priss stands and arches her back, rubbing against me as if asking why the scratches stopped.
“I want to try to talk to him,” I say at last.
“Excuse me?”
“I ran in blindly to kill the Hierophant, and making him my ally ended up serving me far better. Liam might be the same. Ravin is on the hunt for relics—he might know something about why.” I glance Kaelis’s way, and judging from the furrow of his brow, he’s not heard anything of the sort, either.
“Having someone in a clan helping us could be a benefit.”
“Or it could be a major liability. ” A shadow passes over his expression. “Allies in the clans will mean little when the world is remade.”
“We don’t know that,” I counter. “Who knows what relationships or goodwill might linger into the new world.”
Kaelis folds his arms and leans back in his chair. “I would feel better if you killed him and were done with it.”
Priss meows, as if in agreement.
“I’m sure you would…but I want to try, Kaelis.” I resume my scratches of Priss and her purr tells me the meow was more in annoyance. The ring really does catch the light in the most perfect way. Such a gorgeous distraction it can be. “I want to try this first. I think I can trust him.”
Kaelis sighs. “If you think it is for the best, then you have my faith and my assistance.”
“Thank you. This is what I’m thinking…”
Ravin’s party has similarities to the last one I went to at his house during the Season of Wands.
Except the decor, while equally lavish, is far more discerning—gone are the bright colors and the abundance of decorations that were an assault on the senses.
This party grounds itself in steely grays and slate blues, focusing on the more serious transitions from swords to cups.
And, this time, I’m not dressed in finery.
This time, Kaelis arrives in the carriage alone.
I’m dressed in all black, reminiscent of a Worldkeeper: tight leathers and a hooded cowl that completely masks my face as I blend into a clouded night sky.
I’m perched on a nearby rooftop, watching the party unfold.
Watching Kaelis move in and out, weaving through the celebration.
He brings people onto the veranda, showing me who all is in attendance, just as we discussed.
Simultaneously, his eyes dart inside, looking for sight lines and what section of the veranda is the most secluded.
I want to know all the variables before I make my move.
The party begins to shift; guests migrate from the open-air balconies and gardens to the lavish interiors of Ravin’s estate. There are no performers perusing the veranda, so there is little to keep individuals outside.
Carefully, I slip from my perch, scrambling down the outer wall of the estate while all eyes are elsewhere.
Laughter and the sharp clinking of glasses cover the gravel crunching under my boots as I drop behind a hedge in the gardens.
The aroma of fresh-cut greenery and damp earth is potent as I crouch low, moving among the best cover of the garden to lurk at the veranda’s base, covered by shadow.
Just as I’m about to move again, two individuals emerge. I freeze.
“This is madness, Moreus.” There’s only one woman who could call Lord Ventall by his name and not immediately be reprimanded: Lady Ventall.
Every muscle tenses.
“It is the will of the crown.” Moreus keeps his voice down. Their footsteps approach, and I can imagine they’re getting even more distance from the interior, given that their topic of conversation seems somewhat defiant.
“I have lost one daughter to that monster”—the monster is me—“I will not lose another.”
I know exactly what card I would use. One movement. One thought. And it’s over. Mother’s vengeance is right here.
“It is not our choice.”
“Make it your choice!” she snaps. “You promised me, swore to me you would do anything for this family. Yet I’m beginning to think you’re letting your old one usurp what we’ve built, again.”
“Helena.” Her name has a bit of a growl. I know a warning when I hear it.
“I never turned you in for your treason, I kept your secret and your good name intact, so don’t let him take my other daughter from me,” she begs, voice cracking.
I press my eyes closed and grit my teeth into a snarl. My jaw pops. My fists tremble. I hold myself back with invisible lashings.
Fuck. Fuck. I hate her. I hate her more than anyone. Maybe more than Naethor. One thought and she’s dead. She’s right here.
The vengeance I swore to Mother.
The revenge I promised Arina.
It’s right here.
“Please,” Helena whispers, and I can hear the tears in her voice. Hear the earth-shattering sorrow of a mother who lost her daughter. Of a woman who probably saw her family crumble the moment she learned of her husband’s betrayal.
Moreus is the one behind both our hurt. His selfishness was what set this all into motion. Not that it excuses what she did. But where would it stop?
I can’t…
My hand relaxes, and I hang my head, breathing in the damp night slowly. I can’t do it. What would be the point? More death? More suffering? I’d take Alor’s mother from her just like I took her sister. Just like Alor’s mother took mine from me.
It never fucking ends. Over and over we hurt one another until we’re bled dry. Until we die or there’s nothing left of us worth saving.
Will you forgive me, Mother? I ask her spirit. For not giving you what I promised?
“Everyone, I’ve an announcement to make,” Ravin calls from somewhere inside the house.
“No,” Helena breathes.
“We must.”
This is my last chance. I dare to lift my eyes just above the edge of the veranda floor as they walk away. Magic surges and sputters within me. But I still can’t bring myself to do it.
I’m moving past the endless cycle of killing; otherwise, the world will be drowning in blood. I stare at her back, knowing she’ll never know this kindness.
Emilia, I never meant for you to bear the sins of your mother…but we’ll call your death punishment enough for her. Let’s call it even, and it ends here.
“I am pleased to present,” Ravin continues from somewhere that I can’t see, can only hear the vague echo of, “Alor Ventall.”
A polite applause. I pause.
“Now, as the heir to Clan Tower, she will pick up her sister’s mantle.
She will seek both justice and revenge for Emilia’s death.
At the end of this academic year, she will make her third and final sacrifice to the Chalice early.
She will not return for her third year at Arcana Academy but will lead the charge against our most deadly foe, Clara Graysword. ”
Biting back a sigh, I keep moving to where Kaelis signaled for me to go earlier: a section of the veranda that is the most obscured from the inside. My prince maneuvers Liam effortlessly as the celebration inside becomes polite praise to the Ventall family.
“…quite surprising, I know. But Alor is an incredibly talented student,” Kaelis says. I hover, holding my position just out of sight.
“At least her clan won’t be impacted much, since she was going to Clan Tower anyway.” Their footsteps draw near and stop. Liam asks, “Who was it you wanted me to meet?”
“Ah, yes. A moment, let me fetch them.” Kaelis leaves.
There’s no time to waste. The majority of the party is inside still after Ravin’s announcement, celebrating Alor. Kaelis is ensuring no one else emerges. This is my chance. My opening.
Soundlessly, I climb onto the veranda, slinking under the railing. I close the gap between us. I suck in a breath, and he turns. There’s no way he could’ve heard me; it’s as if he sensed my presence.
Liam’s eyes widen slightly. Then his whole expression relaxes. He even smiles.
“It would be you,” he says softly, every muscle easing. Liam leans against the railing and looks over the city. There’s no sign of resistance. No struggle to his voice or pose.
“You know who I am?” I whisper. I’m hooded, masked.
“I’ve known since I walked into that gathering at the academy and you pushed Luren to me,” he replies, just as soft.
“How?” No one else—outside of Majors—saw through my disguise.
“Because it’s you. Love sees through everything.” A pause, a huff of amusement. “And you told me luck would be on my side.” He continues to wear that sad, small smile. “Promise me you’ll make it quick, all right?”
I’m too stunned to move. “You…you think I’m here to kill you?”
“It’s your name, isn’t it? You told me it was special, secret, what feels like a lifetime ago…
but I thought it was because of some petty crimes.
Ravin came around the clan asking about books on the Minor Arcana and relics, but it seemed to be a front for an attempt to get close to me.
Then he started asking questions. He’s been relentless.
And when Luren was clearly looking for our letters—”
“You let her take them?” I whisper.
He nods. “I figured it had to be you behind everything, and my instinct was correct. It was all too specific. Too orchestrated. Had that special brand of planned-out that is your mark.”
“And yet, you didn’t tell him…” I’m glad I didn’t come here to kill him in the end.
There isn’t much time left before the world is remade.
But I’m glad that I don’t have to be as fearful before it is.
Glad that he can enter the new world, even if he remembers none of this.
But if he does, him being on my side is even better.
“I didn’t tell him, yet,” he corrects, and my hopes shatter.
“Are you threatening me?”
“No.”
“Blackmailing me?” I narrow my eyes.
“Hardly.”
“Then what?”
He sighs softly. “We both know you will never know peace unless I’m dead.
I don’t know why the prince wants your real name so badly, but I know it can’t be good.
” His eyes shine in the low light. The noise from within is growing as the party returns to full swing.
“And we both know I’m not strong enough to endure torture if—when his patience runs out.
I could tell you all the promises in the world, but when it comes to that, I can’t promise anything. ” The night grows colder as he speaks.
“You wouldn’t hurt me,” I whisper. Even if we are just a memory, it is a good memory. It meant something then, so it’s something now. Different and not romantic in the slightest. But a type of love, I suppose, in its own way.
“I can swear to you I don’t want to. Or intend to. But not that I won’t. If he tortures me, I don’t know what I’ll do. If he threatens my wife, I will betray you, Clara. But I don’t want to hurt you or her. So, kill me, it’s cleaner.”
I look away. The one time I come with peaceful intentions…I press my eyes closed and fight a surge of pain that rips through me.
He closes the gap between us, catching my eyes once more as they open, and whispers, “You were right. We should’ve left through the Desert Reaches when you could’ve gotten us out. Maybe in the next life.”
“Maybe,” I reply with a breath. Then I cast my first card.
The Four of Cups has him falling asleep instantly. I catch him, easing him down to the floor as I cast the Nine of Wands—no pain. I cast the Knight of Wands on myself, removing all doubt. This is one of the first times I’ve ever truly needed it.
The Prince of Swords shreds his heart from within. I wield the card so carefully that it doesn’t break the surface of his skin. He’s peaceful and as handsome as ever, even in death. Liam dies in my arms, so similar to how he did in my vision in the Chalice…yet so different.
He knew no pain. Life leaves him with a peaceful sigh. It was a better death than most of us could ever hope for.
But it was still too early for him. Unfair. I hang my head and share his last breath before easing his body to the ground. Just as I stand to leave, there is a sharp inhale.
I freeze and slowly turn my head.
A woman is there. No, not just any woman. My eyes make out the details of her features against the bright light from inside.
Liam’s wife.