Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Bonds tethered with magic are unbreakable, unless by death.
“Why is my soldier in the custody of Lotrennian War Slayers?” Ronan’s voice held an edge of calm authority as he strode to where the group stopped.
Darkness raced down my veins as I ran after him, and my stomach twisted as I scanned Vander’s bloody face. He sat atop a mount, arms bound to his chest in a living web of vines. His light hair was matted with fresh blood, and his head bobbed as it lolled to the side.
Vander was like a brother to me, my own brother’s dearest friend and one of the last anchors to my old life.
Of Aedrialis, and the manor we’d spent years playing in the barn with my brother and Drystan.
My brother Aeriden’s face glimmered in my mind every time I looked at Van.
Having him here in Lotrennia, so far away from home, was almost like having Aeriden here with us.
Still living. Still in this world, if only his memory…
“Vander Stryke has been accused of the murder of a Lady of Tomorrow in the Gulley and will be held in Pyracantha until his sentence has been decided,” the War Slayer growled.
Kresida, Ti reminded me, second in command.
The Ladies and Lords of Tomorrow were the elves’ equivalent to courtesans. And the Sultirans had wasted no time spending the money of the Rising on their services. The ladies and lords were breathtaking, chiseled, perfect specimens, ready to fulfill any and every fantasy.
Kresida slid brown, narrowed eyes to mine.
Small daggers lined her cropped vest and belt that crisscrossed around her torso.
Her dark skin was free from tattoos except for the wolf skull marking her position, identical to the ink on Nerissa and Vulcan.
They had been War Slayers before they fled the queendom after the execution of Nerissa and Bayne’s parents at the hands of their own aunt, the queen.
My face shot to Van. A vice gripped my chest at the idea of any of our men or women in that death trap of a prison, let alone my friend. Outrage sent the Obscura power racing wildly in my veins.
“We agreed the order and disciplinary actions of Rising soldiers would be handled by the Rising council in conjunction with the queen’s court. Release him.” Ronan’s sapphire eyes sparked in the Lotrennian sunshine. Threat edged his words despite the practiced composure with which he spoke.
Kresida’s lips twisted into a wide smile, her white teeth flashing as she stepped forward.
“The soldier in question has been accused of the brutal murder of an elf,” she said, as Van began to slide forward off his mount.
Darkness bucked. I flinched as two War Slayers caught him before he slammed into the dirt ground.
“If the murder was committed in the Gulley, space occupied by the Rising forces, we have a right to question our own men,” I snapped.
Kresida leveled a look that promised violence as she said, “This type of violence against our kind, on our soil, will be met with justice only determined by our queen.”
“Do I need to use smaller words for you?” I continued, Tiberius’s wrath mingling with my own, “If the crime happened—”
Kresida stepped forward with preternatural speed, her face inches from mine.
“I don’t give a fuck where it happened. And I don’t give a fuck what atrocious power you have swimming in your foreign, human veins.
” She stood over me, eyes sliding down my body, searching for the darkness that lurked beneath.
It responded within an instant. Power rumbled in my chest as it raced to my palms, urging its release.
Kresida glanced at the veins in my forearms, darkened by the shadows surging in my blood, and back at my eyes rimmed with a golden orange whenever the Obscura threatened to break free of its tether.
Shut it down, Lyvia. Tiberius’s low warning sounded in my head.
I have it under control, I retorted.
I willed the power to cool and plastered a look of control on my face. I took a steadying breath before saying, “These were not the terms your queen agreed to upon granting us sanctuary in your lands. Release him.”
Kresida’s dark eyes didn’t leave mine. “I don’t take orders from lesser beings.”
Lesser beings.
A strange mix of fury and hidden inferiority grappled within me.
We are not the same… Bayne’s words from the Lake of Light all those months ago often rang in my head.
The elves were so different from humans.
Faster, more lethal. I’d seen it in Nerissa and Vulcan, and even Bayne in the past. But here, in their homeland, the differences between us seemed that much more evident.
Humans were slower, weaker, and further removed from that primal part of us.
No, we were not the same. Even among the humans here, I wasn’t the same. The Rising forces knew I was human, but our own soldiers feared me, and I couldn’t blame them.
Not after those horrifying hours on the plains of Odessa when I’d let the Obscura power erupt. I may have saved us by obliterating thousands of ashen, but I’d killed nearly fifty humans. Many of them, our own forces. Including Oslo.
The pain of that realization haunted me. Of seeing that bit of bright metal peeking out from a mound of ash. That deadly weapon he’d been so excited to secure to his stumped arm.
Marian would never forgive me. She hadn’t left the Evecta since our arrival two months ago, let alone look me in the eye. But it was nothing compared to my self-hatred.
My heart ached as I repeated the names of the people whose lives were lost because of me. My list. My mind chanted them, like a quiet, damning prayer keeping beat with my blackened heart.
Morwyn. Aeriden. Eira. Oslo. My father. The list continued to grow.
Lives I’d taken myself or was just as much to blame for. All among the countless ashen I’d slaughtered at the Battle of Odessa. The ones we didn’t think could be saved. Their deaths were on my hands. Hatred clawed at the thought, and I let it sink into the shadow smothering my soul.
Ti nudged me from behind with his big head, but his voice remained quiet in my mind.
He knew my grief. Could feel it himself.
And unlike the others, he didn’t try to justify it.
He was part of me enough that he knew I deserved this guilt.
To feel it. To let myself feel it because it kept me tied to that small bit of humanity I so desperately clung to.
I tensed as Ronan placed a hand on my shoulder and stepped forward. “I suppose we have more to investigate,” he said calmly. “Where is the body?”
Kresida’s smile was enough to curdle my breakfast. “In the Gulley. What’s left of it,” she replied, eyes flashing. “It’s being prepared for the Beyond.”
My stomach tensed. The elven menders stripped bodies of flesh as they prepared them for the Beyond.
Life after death, as they believed. The bones were then burned to ash before a wind whisperer spun the ashes up to Aelius, god of the sun.
The more I learned of the ritual, the more my heart broke for Bayne and Nerissa, whose father had been executed by drowning in the Juniper Sea.
Whose bones would never be burned, never sent to Aelius, a fate bestowed on him by Queen Antares.
“How are we supposed to investigate a murder if the body’s gone?” Ronan cut in, outrage threatening his composure.
My head whipped to the side as a grunt escaped Vander’s lips. Two War Slayers had him by the arms, the tips of his boots dragging in the dirt as they hauled him toward the entrance of lethal vines.
“Not my problem.” Kresida smirked, turning to follow her team.
“Vander didn’t do this,” I said, turning back to Ronan.
“I know,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the backs of the War Slayers as the twisting thorns of Pyracantha snaked open, allowing them to haul the half-conscious Vander inside. “But if someone from the Rising is responsible for the elf’s death, a shit storm is coming our way.”
The Rising forces were anxious enough. The elves were distrusting enough. Centuries apart had cleaved a deep rift between the two races, and we were on their soil. If a Rising soldier had killed an elf, tensions would only grow.
“Bayne won’t be back for another few days…” I murmured.
He’d gone north with Aquila. Queen Antares granted him leave to visit the Waters of Ascendiel, the sacred mountain spring that sat in the north of the continent. The waters were said to open the minds of the elves to a line of sight and possibility.
“We’ll need Nerissa.” Ronan nodded as he turned back to me.
“We need evidence,” I stressed.
“Rising healers won’t even get a chance to examine the body before all that’s left are bones, and they’re sent up in flames,” Ronan muttered, shaking his head. He turned to where his Lotrennian mount stood waiting near the trees.
Bones.
The revelation hit me like a stone wall. Maybe I could fix this. Or at least stall it long enough to free Vander.
“What?” Ronan paused mid-stride and his gaze caught mine. “You have a look.”
“What look?” I blinked.
“The look all you scholars get. You’ve figured something out.”
“Bones, Ronan.”
His brows pinched together, eyes brightening as he sorted it through. They darted between mine. Ronan’s light curls bobbed as he nodded his head.
“You’ll need to hurry.”