Chapter 61
Zadriel
Before Dother’s Death
“I assume congratulations are in order.” Zadriel leaned against a wall of braided branches, the dome of trees serving as his home.
It was no Arcadian treehouse, but Moldenna’s sparse forest served him well, determined to care for him in spite of...
everything. He tipped his chin up, ignoring the leaves ruffling his dark hair, and watched Cillian’s face.
Azure glimmered in the firelight, brighter somehow, his emotions unreadable.
A sprite plinked against the glass orb at Cillian’s feet, wings fluttering within the orange haze, tiny hands reaching for the pine needles cuddled against the outside of its prison.
Zadriel did his best not to look—Cillian never listened to his insistence that sprites deserved to be free, swayed by Brennan’s falsehoods.
When Zadriel was a child, he’d stolen a few and released them—the harshest marks on his arms served as a painful reminder of the consequences of misbehaving.
His brother pursed his lips before tipping his silver flask back and taking a long drink. “Did the trees tell you?” he asked, offering Zadriel a sip.
Scars gleamed when Zadriel accepted the flask, a few of them fresh. The bleedings grew more frequent—Cillian now harvested Zadriel’s blood nearly as often as Brennan had in Eden.
It was strange, the hollow feeling in his chest. Eden had never been home—the hidden village subsisted off Zadriel’s suffering—but still, he somehow missed it. Things had been simpler before they left for Moldenna. Now...
Cillian felt like a stranger.
“I felt it,” he sighed, taking a swig of Cillian’s drink, a sharp, spicy flavor coating his tongue. Burning all the way down.
“I hadn’t considered that,” Cillian muttered.
Zadriel arched a brow—how had Cillian forgotten about Zadriel’s curse? He knew the moment Cillian’s child took their first breath, torn from his sleep by a torturous internal blaze as a new tether seared itself into his being. “Did you not want me to know?”
Chewing his left cheek, Cillian glanced sidelong at the crown he’d tossed to the ground, silver glinting as the fire sprite moved.
An eerie glitter skipping over the sapphires and diamonds decorating its points.
“It’s not that.” He pushed messy tendrils of rich brown hair away from his forehead and blew out a heavy breath.
“This is simply not the life I envisioned when I set my sights on the throne.”
Zadriel nodded, his jaw working. “I heard other things when a group of guards walked near the forest’s edge.”
“I’m not interested in idle gossip.”
“Neither am I.” Zadriel leveled him with a look. “Where are you hiding Mora?”
Something flared in Cillian’s eyes, red blooming on his cheeks. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t lie to me, brother. I already know you have your arrangement, and I smell her on you.” Bile clawed up Zadriel’s throat, his stomach churning. “Why hasn’t anyone seen her in months?”
Cillian scoffed, wrinkling his nose. “You Fae and your gods damned sense of smell.”
A dirge pulsed in Zadriel’s chest, a sinking dread its conductor. He’d felt it for months, coursing through him all these long nights alone in the woods. “Tell me,” he pleaded.
Muscles feathered in Cillian’s cheeks, but he said nothing.
Zadriel tried again, more bite to his voice. “What did you do?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” Cillian snarled.
“Try me.”
His brother fiddled with his ring, his face like stone. “I heard word from father.”
Brennan. The thought of him had blood thrashing in Zadriel’s veins, his heart galloping in his chest. “Are you hiding her from him?”
Cillian’s chin dipped. Was it in confirmation?
Zadriel watched his brother’s face carefully as he pulled an ornate bottle free from his belt, firelight rippling over the golden daisies decorating the glass, strips of gilded wood covering its neck.
The filigree infused with sap by Zadriel’s hand, nearly a year ago.
He shivered, the undulating darkness within it reminding him too much of his sins.
Pulling too many painful memories to the surface.
He could smell the embers now, as if they emanated off Cillian’s clothes, flirting with hints of lavender. Teasing and taunting him all at once.
Cillian stared at the glittering onyx mist inside, tipping it back and forth so the smoke slid along the bottle’s belly.
“He knows what I’ve done, and if I cannot prove to him this path will lead to his victory, he intends to take Mora for himself.
” Azure burned Zadriel’s eyes when Cillian looked up at him.
“I don’t think I need to explain why I would prefer she avoid that fate. ”
Zadriel’s breathing quickened, a squeezing feeling enveloping his throat. The things Brennan would do to his mate now that she held the power he coveted... No, they could never allow it. “Is he coming to Moldenna?”
“I’ve convinced him not to, for now. But you know he has his spies. I’m sure they’re watching me and reporting back to him... He could easily change his mind.” His grip on the bottle grew tighter, knuckles turning white. “I’ve hidden Mora away to keep her close. To protect our future.”
Zadriel took a long swig of Cillian’s drink, clearing his throat against the burn. “Where are you hiding her?”
A satisfied grin tipped up on Cillian’s lips. “Closer than you’d think.”
There was something odd about the way Cillian watched the smoke, as if he longed to possess it. It reminded Zadriel of the cait sìth prowling the deepest parts of Arcadia, the large black felines searching for souls to devour from high up in the Forest’s shadowy boughs.
Whatever was in that bottle, Cillian would consume it whole if he could.
His heart stilled. “Please tell me you didn’t...”
Cillian tore his focus away from the bottle, his sharp stare heavy with disdain. “Didn’t what, brother? Don’t mince words.”
Zadriel stood so quickly the braided dome of trees had no time to move—he hit his head on the woody ceiling, barely wincing, the dull ache lost to him while he stared at onyx mist. “Is that her?” he snarled, wondering if he’d gone mad. “Have you trapped her somehow? Cursed her?”
Cillian’s eyes darkened. A warning. “Trapped is a strong word.”
He scoffed. “I never thought I’d see you become your father.” Zadriel’s fingers curled into fists, Cillian’s flask digging into his palm. He half wondered if he could steal the ornate bottle away and free the Little Witch somehow.
Would Cillian use the blood he’d taken to force Zadriel to return her? The thought alone destroyed him—what had they become? “Brennan would be proud.”
Cillian made quick work tethering the bottle back onto his belt. “Do not think the worst of me.”
“How could I not?” He tossed the silver flask to the ground, uncaring when whatever expensive liquor Cillian fancied spilled out, seeping between fresh blades of summer grass. “Tell me the truth, Cill. Is that her inside the bottle?”
“I told you about my gift and promised she couldn’t steal your precious Heart away.
” Before Zadriel could growl, Cillian held up a hand.
“At least let me explain before you behave like a beast.” He crossed his legs and leaned back, his head resting against the tangled boughs making up Zadriel’s home, as if he were completely unbothered.
But Zadriel knew better. A divot appeared on Cillian’s cheek, his brother’s teeth sinking into flesh while he considered his words.
“In my quest for the crown, I called in many favors, including one from a young lord whose father is connected to the Royal Council. With his aid, I studied them all and made certain I earned their respect. It was no surprise they unanimously demanded I become king when Mora’s father passed...
but Mora had no interest in taking the throne.
She wants a love match. Demanded I take my time proving to her the future I’ve offered is more than mere politics. We came to an arrangement.”
Zadriel pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily. “You married her mother.”
“Admittedly, she was not pleased with that.” Cillian’s harsh laugh was humorless, his fingers tracing idle circles over the flask’s gilded stopper.
“It was a price we had no choice but to pay. The Council would have taken Aedlin’s head, and possibly Mora’s as well, if they didn’t allow me to ascend the throne.
They couldn’t care less who came with me as my queen.
” His frown deepened. “Kalyan and Aedlin pushed them too far when they overturned the Laws; things are more tumultuous than we realized in Eden. It’s made my work here rather... difficult.”
Zadriel’s dark eyes narrowed. “I fail to see how this explains the bottle.”
Cillian clicked his tongue. “Patience, Zade. I’ve much to explain,” he said, his palm caressing gilded filigree, glittering smoke drifting to the other side of the bottle.
“Mora did not wish to see what would come of my political marriage to her mother, as I’m sure you can understand, and she’s trying to come to terms with her new power while we explore the bond we share.
We’ve done our best to keep her hidden away and buy her as much time as she needs.
Though, I confess, I would much prefer she say yes to everything I’ve offered and become my queen now.
I could give her everything. Teach her everything...
but I can’t force her to stand by my side, no matter how I may long to. ”
Twigs curled over Zadriel’s shoulder, sensing his growing rage, but he stepped away, the thin branches snapping in half and tumbling to his feet unnoticed.
“So, you’ve given up and trapped her in a flask you had me unwittingly help create?
” he seethed, careful not to step on the fire sprite when he neared.
“You think I’d give up that easily when things are so close to falling into place?
” Cillian scoffed, unbothered by the Fae looming over him.
“No, brother. This is part of our arrangement. We spend our nights together in my rooms, but she hides in the flask whenever we leave. It keeps her safe from prying eyes, including any Brennan may have snuck into the castle, and protects our secret.”
Over and over again, Cillian spoke as if Mora had chosen this, but Zadriel couldn’t shake the fury burning in his gut. Was the mate bond clouding his mind, his territorial nature making him senseless? The Cillian he knew, the Cillian he loved, would never do something so horrible... would he?
As if he sensed Zadriel’s muddled thoughts, Cillian stood and placed his hand on Zadriel’s shoulder.
“I’m also doing everything I can to protect what we stole from your forest. This is what I meant when I told you I have contingencies in place—I know how important the sap is to you and I didn’t want to take any unnecessary risks.
Mora and her power are bound to this bottle, and anyone who holds it becomes her Keeper.
We both agree it’s in her best interest I hold that title. ”
Zadriel’s blood froze. “Keeper?”
“It’s clever, I know.” Cillian pulled away, dragging his finger along the natural wall until he reached his overturned silver flask, the last dregs of liquor seeping into a pine needle carpet.
“Should Mora try to steal away the power I gifted her, she will be trapped,” he drawled, shoving the container back into his pouch, jostling the red journal hanging beneath it.
“Bound to the flask, her power malleable to the will of her Keepers, like the sap once was to the will of your mother.” When he settled his crown atop his head, he beamed, pride glowing on his face.
“Mora understands our arrangement. She knows to remain by my side until she decides her future.”
Zadriel stood stock still, unable to unclench his teeth. “And if she doesn’t choose you?”
“She will.”
“Answer the question, brother.”
“Mora wants me.” Cillian grinned, licking his lips as if he were savoring a salacious memory Zadriel would prefer he kept to himself.
“I’m not sure how to satisfy you, Zade. It’s the politics she finds distasteful.
The pressure of our destiny carving a new world for Halflings she finds too burdensome. So, we’ve come to a compromise.”
The gold churning in Zadriel’s eyes nearly consumed the darkness around it, the power in his chest pressing against his bones as if it would claw its way to the surface and pry Mora from Cillian’s hands. “Tell me the truth.”
Cillian gave him a pitying look. “She loves me. No matter how furious she may be about our circumstances and the decisions she must make. No matter how much I’m beginning to think you wish it weren’t so.”
“Vow it to me.” Zadriel broke the distance between them, his fists flexing so hard they pulled at the scars on his wrists.
“Or what?” Cillian snapped, though his cheeks blanched—physically, Zadriel had always been the stronger of the two, but they’d never fought like this. Never disagreed like they had since they’d come to Moldenna.
“It depends on your answer,” Zadriel rumbled, a violent threat weaving between the words.
They stared at one another, Cillian’s own fists flexing at his side, his knuckles brushing against the flask as if its nearness were a comfort.
He moved closer, tipping his head up, teeth bared.
“I vow to you I speak the truth when I say Mora spends her evenings cuddled with me in my bed. That she lies with me whenever I wish, taking my cock and screaming my name night after night. Is that good enough for you, brother?” He spat the final word like it was sour.
As if he never wished to taste it on his tongue again.
A pang stabbed at Zadriel’s heart, the weight of the trees surrounding him suddenly too much to bear.
When Cillian plucked his fire sprite from the ground and left Zadriel in the dark, uninterested in anything he had to say, a crushing quiet pressed against his skin.
The rustling leaves and owl trills unable to break through.
Cillian hadn’t flinched, the vow’s magic settling comfortably in his bones.
His words were true.
They curdled in the summer air, coating each of Zadriel’s miserable breaths long after Cillian left.