Chapter Twenty-Two
THE NIGHT KING
For the first time in the years of living with my curse, after this shift, I recollect more than just residual feelings of bloodlust and fury, or the lingering human disgust and remorse at how many I’ve harmed in my rampage before I’m forcibly restrained and caged.
This time, I recall images and snatches of conversation.
Is it her doing?
After a much-needed hot bath and a meal, I push my mind out, connecting to the bond I have with Indira. She’s warming her clutch but greets me fondly through the link. I was hoping you would return to us soon. Your soul-fated is strong. Razulek was right about her being a good match for you.
Scowling, I shove down the urge to snarl. I’ve learned the hard way that I can never win a snarling match with a full-grown female azdaha, much less one who is the queen of her kind. I saw you both with her, I say. In the woods.
There’s a protracted beat of silence. Indira knows what this means.
As your beast? she asks with interest. You see his memories?
I exhale. Images, feelings, nothing more.
That’s encouraging, she says. It means the curse is evolving.
How was he with her? Did he rut her? Claim her?
Mark her with his bite? In the forest, he was territorial: typical unclaimed mate behavior.
Razulek did not want to be faced with a formal challenge, so we had to leave.
We knew he would not harm her. She chuffs. At least not fatally.
Azdaha matings are notoriously violent. Razulek had a chunk missing out of his hindquarters for weeks, and Indira’s wings had torn from the force of his talons ripping through them in a display of dominance.
I don’t want to think of what my beast’s claws would do to Suraya’s soft skin, though a deeply carnal thrill sweeps through me at the idea of marking that pretty brown flesh.
On the heels of such visceral arousal, I feel my body start to convulse with magic as my thoughts veer toward the chaos of lust, and as always, the curse rears its head.
By the fucking blood, control yourself, Dare.
Gods, I can’t change back into the manticore so soon after only just having shifted back.
Reaching for equanimity, I take the time to breathe and gather my thoughts, despite the fact that they are much too heated and tumultuous at the idea of finally claiming my soul-fated.
That’s the primal allure of the bond, nearly impossible to resist. Clenching my fists, I shove open the windows and suck in the cool air, locking down my desires behind my iron will.
The manticore’s needs have grown louder than ever in my human consciousness, which makes me also believe, like Indira, that the curse is evolving. I’ve never heard him so clearly before.
I have to understand what that means for all of us. For me. For Everlea.
There was no claiming, I say to Indira, and then pause.
But he’s fascinated by her. She stayed with him for days in the paddock.
She fell asleep on him! That recollection alone had shocked me.
How she survived remains a mystery, one that slowly becomes clear as I try to understand more of the creature that takes over my body and my mind.
He sees her as his to protect. Which is a fucking calamity.
Indira’s surprise radiates down the bond. For a beast governed by his most primitive instincts, that is interesting.
Interesting how?
Perhaps these changes are not one way, she says. Perhaps he can hear and feel you, too.
I rub at my chest. That’s what I’m afraid of.
With grateful fondness, I thank my bonded azdaha and release the link, and then I do what I swore I’d never do in a million years: I send out a summons for Venant, or Vena, or whatever the Royal Star now calls herself. She’s the Starkeeper’s guardian. Perhaps she will have some insight.
I don’t have to wait long.
Within seconds, a figure shimmers into being.
It’s not the face of the deity I have seen before, nor is it the crone she’s favored more recently.
Instead, it’s an androgynous face with dark blue skin and pure white eyes.
The latter takes some getting used to, but who am I to judge?
I turn red with a mane and grow a scorpion for a tail.
Short bluish hair graces her head, and she’s a few inches taller than she was last, but her divine energy is still the same. “Your Majesty.”
“How shall I address you?” I ask, after a familiar smugness settles on the Royal Star’s lips. I suppose her shape changing doesn’t alter the innate arrogance that most seers have. “Venant? Vena?”
“Ve is apropos, though I cede to no gender.”
I nod in affirmation as that eerie white gaze scans me from top to bottom.
“Something has changed about you, Your Majesty.” They blink and tap a blunt fingernail to their chest, eyes fluttering shut. “Your soul-fated is here.”
“Yes,” I say.
“So you’ve changed your mind about completing the bond?” Ve asks.
I shake my head, registering their disappointment, but maybe once they understand what’s at stake, they will support the only viable strategy to stave off another realm-decimating war. “We can never complete the bond because I am cursed.”
Ve stares with those unsettling white eyes for a long moment. “What do you mean?” they finally say.
“The moment I feel any emotion, I transform. I lose myself in the form of a manticore that goes on a killing spree, until all the emotion and madness is bled out of my system.”
They stare at me in utter horror. “How?”
“I don’t know. Thankfully, the curse has taken hold only a handful of times, mostly related to my soul-fated, but each time—especially recently—my interval as the beast has grown successively longer.
” I shudder out a breath and continue. “The longest period was the most recent, and prior to that, when she gave herself to the king of Oryndhr. So if I ever truly, fully bond with my soul-fated, or fall in love with her, there’s a chance that the change . . .”
“Will be permanent.” Ve stares at me, an aghast expression on their flawless face. “You can’t feel any emotion at all?”
“Nothing extreme. I can find some mild pleasure in conversation, food, sparring, and other innocuous activities without change, but anything chaotic, any intense emotion, and I’m lost for days and now for weeks at a time.
” I pause. “There’s another thing. Previously, my consciousness remained entirely separate. Now, there are tethers.”
“Tethers?”
“I see and hear the manticore. Almost like a spectator.”
They tilt their head thoughtfully, a myriad of feelings crossing their face as they consider what I’ve shared. “I suspect your beast has no familiarity with your human side, which translates to no real power over your magic in that form?” They scowl when I nod. “Does the Starkeeper know all this?”
“About the curse, not about the soul-fated bond,” I say, “or about the possible evolution of our magic once bonded.”
Ve approaches, their eyes boring through my soul. “Why tell me now?”
Clenching my jaw, I wave my arm. “I know you and the other Royal Stars are aware something is coming. The rot that Saru chose eternal sleep to eradicate centuries ago is rearing its ugly head. My advisors speak of necromancers in the southern realm, the secret plot to return my father to his throne, and those very men who want to use my soul-fated to bolster their power.” I exhale a troubled breath.
“Fero lingers. I can feel him infecting the realms. Maybe not all of him, but enough to disrupt the flow of akasha. His power is growing while Saru remains in god-sleep.” I meet the Royal Star’s gaze.
“We need to be ready for whatever comes without anchoring the Starkeeper’s magic. ”
“Is there any way to break this curse?” Ve asks, an uncharacteristic waver to their voice.
Powerlessness fills me. “No. I must reject my soul-fated and the most precious, divine gift of the bond, because if I succumb, the price could mean her death. I cannot anchor her magic in that form. The simurgh will eventually consume her.”
“You need to tell her,” Ve says softly. “She deserves to know the truth, Darrius. All of it.”
Though I don’t want to admit it, deep down I know they’re right.