Chapter 6 #2
“Council business.” Cillian chewed on his cheek, his attention flicking toward Violet.
The poor woman struggled beneath the blanket, attempting to dress without revealing any more of herself.
“Apologies, Violet, but you need to leave. Now.” The sternness in Cillian’s voice contrasted with the way he rested his hand over his heart, his pear making the gesture more awkward than intended.
But he gave her his best grin, and somehow it worked.
When he felt like it, Cillian could charm almost anyone.
“You have my word Zadriel will make up for it.”
Zadriel rubbed his temples, the ache in his head thrumming like a heartbeat.
“I need water,” he mumbled, his feet heavy as he wandered into the kitchen.
He flexed his fingers, his clammy palms too hot. All he could feel was thick globs of golden sap enveloping his skin, and the Mother Tree’s Heart thundering in his fist.
No good came of Council business.
Bowing his head, he leaned against the counter, cursing the sloped ceiling.
His breathing quickened, Arcadia glaring at him through the window while he searched the wall of trees for smoke he knew he wouldn’t find.
The wind sequestered it away, consuming the evidence—at least, the parts Zadriel could see from Eden.
It didn’t change how he felt. Or the mockery he’d made of his legacy.
Arcadia should have deemed him the Keeper of Death, not...
He took a calming breath.
Zadriel knew better than most—some wounds never healed. The worst of them marred you irrevocably, painting your skin or burning themselves into your soul. They held your pain close to the surface, a torturous anguish you grew accustomed to but never truly escaped.
An earthenware jug sat in the corner, the container filled to the brim with water.
It sloshed against the hardened clay interior when he grabbed it and brought it to his lips.
Cool liquid splashed on his tongue—he groaned at the taste, swallowing greedily as he walked back to his room.
It soothed his dry throat. The ache in his skull dulling to a gentle throb.
Violet slammed into Zadriel’s bare chest. “Oof,” she grunted, clutching her dress. The laces were undone, long strips of linen hanging at her back.
Zadriel wiped his lips with his forearm, gathering the few lingering water drops, before frowning down at Violet.
Wishing things had ended differently. “I can tie those if you’d like,” he offered, nodding toward her laces.
The least he could do was secure them, saving her from running through the village with a dress clinging to her frame.
Violet looked over her shoulder, chewing her lip when she found Cillian watching. He raised what little was left of his pear in a silent goodbye, his expression serious.
“It’s okay,” she said, her elbow knocking Zadriel’s arm as she rushed to the entryway.
When the door clicked shut, Zadriel pinched the bridge of his nose and released a frustrated breath. “Are you happy now, Cillian?”
“Of course I am.” His brother ran his tongue over his teeth, licking up the remnants of his breakfast. “You’ll need to tell me how that happened when we’re on the road.”
“Listen...”
Cillian pursed his lips. “That tone isn’t promising.”
Zadriel clutched the earthenware jug tighter.
“I want no involvement in whatever the Village Council has planned.” A cinching feeling built in his chest. He attempted to keep his breathing steady, praying Cillian wouldn’t notice.
“You know how much our last outing cost me, Cill. I won’t harm Arcadia further. ”
His words were empty, a wish more than a demand. He thought of the boiling heat of a blood thrall pulsing in his veins, the torment of succumbing to another’s will—Brennan would force his hand if he didn’t listen.
“What if I told you these were my plans?” Cillian asked, dropping the pear’s core on Zadriel’s bedside table. He pushed his light brown hair away from his face, his head cocking to the side as he stared at the wooden shelves. “Where did Brennan hide everything?” he said, more to himself.
Zadriel rested the jug on the floor and moved to Cillian’s side. “You said this was about the Council.” His heart pounded in his chest, echoes of Brennan’s influence rushing through him with each arduous beat. Zadriel did his best to ignore it.
“Okay, yes. These are technically my father’s plans, but I intend to improve upon them.
” He tossed a basket full of bloodstained Galadriah feathers to the floor, a few fluttering free, decorating the earth-colored tiles with their iridescent hues.
“If Brennan wants a legacy, I’ll give him just that.
But such things are bred by action; I have no interest in waiting idly for centuries when I can easily bring upon change now. ”
That did nothing to ease Zadriel’s mind. If Brennan wanted this, it couldn’t be good.
“You already know my feelings on the matter,” Zadriel muttered.
Cillian ignored him as he moved a bottle of Arcadian wildflowers, the silver hues of one bloom reminding Zadriel of a childhood friend—his time with Vesryn seemed like a lifetime ago, memories Zadriel would always cherish... They’d likely never see one another again.
“Is this his attempt to drive me mad?” Cillian grumbled before marching out the door. Furniture scraped against hardwood in Brennan’s room, followed by the creek of old floorboards. “Ah, there it is.” He sounded pleased.
A smirk played on Cillian’s lips when he returned, a dark bag Zadriel recognized hanging off his shoulder. Gold stained the fabric, the lingering scents of embers and brimstone wafting in the air. “Can you believe my father thinks I know nothing of the hidden compartment under his bed?”
Zadriel’s legs trembled as he backed away.
Cillian’s face softened. “Zade.”
Zadriel’s calves hit the mattress.
“This has nothing to do with my father.” Cillian stepped closer, the sound of glass jars clinking together emanating from the bag. Liquid sloshing inside.
Was it in Zadriel’s head, or was the percussive beat of Mother’s Heart still there? Sinking onto his bed, he stared down at his empty palms, remembering the gilded stains. “This has everything to do with your father.”
Cillian was careful to place the bag softly on the floor, his footsteps gentle as he approached. Bed dipping when he sat by Zadriel’s side. “This is about setting you free.” He rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward so he could look Zadriel in the eye. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”
Bright azure collided with endless dark, lit by specks of starlight. “We’re going to Moldenna?”
Cillian nodded. “Our spies discovered a certain princess likes to spend her nights exploring the city. Brennan wants us to take her.” Chewing on his left cheek, his gaze grew distant. “I’ll find a way to unweave your curse once we’re done.”
Zadriel’s stomach twisted. Destroying his legacy hadn’t been enough—his freedom would cost that of another. A woman with no knowledge of Eden who did not deserve to be entangled in this mess.
Yet, as he thought of his home, of the endless sea of viridian and the fresh, earthy air, Zadriel knew he’d do anything to return. Even if he had to destroy his heart in the process.
“What does this have to do with The Mother Tree?” he asked tentatively, nodding toward the bag holding pieces of Her corpse.
Cillian pulled something from his pocket, his head tilting to the side as he admired it. “You’re just going to have to trust me.”
Gold glinted in the light, and a pearly gem swiveled to reveal a black void that stared into Zadriel’s soul—Brennan’s ring.
“He’ll kill you for taking that,” Zadriel hissed, bile crawling up his throat. “Actually, he’ll kill me.”
Cillian clapped Zadriel on the shoulder, excitement dancing in his eyes. “Then I suggest you hurry up and pack.”