14. Starling #2
Drakor's body, caving in on itself. The wet, horrible sound of a god being unmade in an instant. Thatcher's scream of rage and pain, and then... nothing. Drakor had simply been erased from existence.
Just like this. Just like what Vivros could do.
The book slipped in my suddenly sweating hands. I forced myself to keep reading, looking for more marked passages with growing dread.
After Moros was defeated, Vivros was forever changed. No defense existed against the last Primordial’s power, and in the end, it took the combined might of all twelve founding Aesymar to bring about Vivros's end. A great power yes, but one too dangerous to be left unchecked.
Twelve gods. It had taken twelve gods working together to stop this kind of power.
I sank into a nearby chair, trying to process what I was reading. Was this why Xül had really wanted Thatcher? Gods, did the other Legends have the same thought? Did the Twelve ?
I slammed the book closed and replaced it on the shelf. I didn't know what to do with this information. I tucked it away, even as it burned through me. Thatcher possessed Primordial power. And Xül knew. And I had no idea what he planned to do with that knowledge, or what it would mean for us.
By the time I made my way back to the living areas, the strange light filtering through the windows had shifted to deeper shades of red. Evening.
Voices echoed through the main hall as I approached—low, masculine laughter and the clink of glass.
I followed the sound and found myself staring at a room that perfectly embodied scholarly luxury.
Dark wood paneling stretched from floor to ceiling.
Leather chairs were arranged around a massive fireplace, while tall windows offered views of the black sea beyond.
The air held the rich scent of old parchment and dark liquor.
Xül was there, lounging in one of the leather chairs with a crystal glass in his hand, and I could see him properly for the first time without formal attire.
He wore a simple black shirt that clung to his lean frame, sleeves rolled up to reveal toned forearms. His dark braids were pulled back, beads and rings gleaming in the firelight. In his hair, on his fingers, and piercing his nose. He practically dripped in gold.
I recognized the other man immediately from the Choosing—Aelix, one of the Legends who'd been seated further down the table.
He was striking in his own way, with sharp features and pale skin marked by intricate scars that looked deliberately placed.
His dark hair was cropped short, and when he laughed at something Xül said, his teeth flashed a brilliant white.
I stepped back from the doorway, unnoticed, and listened. But I couldn’t help but peek inside. Their chairs were turned just enough.
"Well, obviously it would have been extraordinary to secure the god-killer," Aelix was saying, swirling amber liquid in his glass. "He certainly belongs here."
"And now he's with Chavore," Xül replied, his voice carrying that same aristocratic boredom I was beginning to recognize as his default tone. "Which means he'll be currying favor with Olinthar before the month is out."
"Naturally. But surely there were other blessed more suited for Draknavor? Why choose a star-wielder of all things?"
Xül's smile could cut. "You know how I enjoy complicating matters for Sundralis."
Sundralis . Olinthar’s domain.
Aelix laughed. "So I take it you don't plan on shepherding her toward ascension?"
"And provide them with another ally? Hardly. I’d rather rob them of it."
My blood turned to ice in my veins, then began to boil.
So that was it. I was nothing more than a political pawn, chosen specifically to deny someone else the advantage of my abilities.
Xül had no intention of actually training me, no interest in my survival beyond the satisfaction of thwarting his rivals.
Well. That was about to change.
I prowled into the parlor like I owned it, snatching the crystal decanter from between them, and pouring myself a generous measure of the amber liquid within.
Neither god seemed remotely surprised by my arrival.
"I see someone decided to put clothing on today," Xül purred.
I didn't grant him the satisfaction of my gaze, though I could feel his eyes on me. Just as I'd felt them last night, tracking every inch of exposed flesh. "Yes, well, no show for you today, I'm afraid." My teeth clicked together.
"I was wondering when you'd grace us with your presence," Xül drawled.
"Couldn't let you have all the fun." I dropped into a leather chair, letting my smile turn razor-sharp. "By all means, don't let me interrupt."
Aelix's scarred face shifted as he studied me. "Aelix. Aesymar of cursed blood. I stay on the other side of the Island." His smile was warm now. "A pleasure to finally meet Xül's new protégé."
"Thais Morvaren." I drained my glass in one burning swallow and slid it across the table. "Now, I'd love to hear more about how you plan to let me die.."
"Your odds of survival are laughable," Xül said, tilting his head to examine me like I was some mildly entertaining pet. "Regardless of any training I might provide."
"How reassuring." My voice dripped honey-sweet venom. "But if you're going to watch me die, at least have the balls to admit it's because you're not capable of teaching me. Not because I'm somehow beneath your notice."
Aelix's laugh cracked through the air before he caught Xül's expression and thought better of it.
"Your power isn't in question." Xül swirled his drink with lazy menace. "Ripping stars from the heavens, forging them into weapons? Power like that could turn empires to dust."
"Then what's the fucking problem?"
"The problem is that you held a blade of pure starfire and used it as a shield .
The problem is that when the choice came down to kill or die, you hesitated .
" That golden eye pinned me like a butterfly to glass.
"All the power in the world means nothing if you lack the spine to wield it when it counts. "
"I survived."
"Barely." He reclined with insufferable grace. "The Trials won't coddle you. They won't pause while you wrestle with your conscience or your pathetic squeamishness about spilling blood."
Aelix shifted. "Perhaps we should?—"
"No." My voice had gone lethally soft. "Let him finish. I want to hear exactly what he thinks."
Xül's smile widened. "You have power enough to be dangerous, but lack the stomach to survive. You still think you're the hero of this story." He leaned forward. "Heroes die screaming. Only killers ascend. "
Silence stretched between us.
"Then teach me to be a killer," I said, meeting that dual-colored stare without flinching.
"And why would I waste my time trying to forge something from such... soft material?"
Fire ignited in my veins. "Try me. I might surprise you."
Aelix rose with obvious haste.
"I should collect Marx for…" he said, already retreating. "Yes, well, I will hopefully see the both of you very soon."
Neither of us acknowledged his escape.
But self-preservation finally kicked in. I stood abruptly.
"Tomorrow." I didn't look back. "Train me, and decide for yourself how useful I might be."
Three steps. That's all I managed before he materialized in front of me, moving with that impossible Aesymar speed. I stumbled back until stone met my spine, and immediately felt cold, dead hands emerge from the wall, shackling my wrists.
"Your mortal mind can't begin to fathom what awaits you if you truly want my guidance." His voice had gone low, authoritative. Those eyes fixed on mine with cold intensity. "I don't think you're remotely prepared for what I might demand."
The words were a threat, and I felt a chill of uncertainty. This version of him—focused and predatory and utterly lethal—was infinitely more compelling than the dismissive bastard I'd been dealing with.
"I can handle more than you think." My voice remained steady.
A not-quite-smile crossed his face. "Such bravado from someone who's never been truly tested." He took a step forward. "Tell me, Miss Morvaren—what happens when you're pushed past every limit? When every instinct screams at you to submit ?"
"I don't submit to anyone." I lifted my chin.
"Everyone submits eventually." He studied the liquid in his glass. "Some require... gentle persuasion. Others need a firmer hand."
"And which am I?" The question escaped before I could cage it.
His eyes narrowed. "Oh, you'd fight me with everything you have. Make me work for every scrap of progress." He slid his glass onto the bookshelf to my left. "You'd push and push until I had no choice but to show you exactly what happens to those who test their limits."
"You think you could break me?"
"Break you?" His laugh was cold. "Breaking would be such a waste. I'd much rather watch you bend ."
Dark promise dripped from every syllable.
Fire flooded my cheeks, and his smile turned positively feral.
I wanted to shove him away, to do anything but stand there. But no one had ever spoken to me like this—with such devastating, depraved confidence. It awakened something in me I desperately wanted to bury.
He stood directly before me, his presence commanding the space between us. The black of his eye seemed to devour light, creating shadows that danced across the brutal planes of his face.
"If you eavesdrop on private conversations in my home again," he stated, "you won't survive long enough to see the Trials."
It sounded like another dismissal, but he didn't turn. Instead, he pressed closer. The hands tightened around my wrists as his breath feathered across my lips.
"You have a problem with boundaries." Velvet over steel, that voice. "Perhaps you need a lesson in consequences."
"You're quite observant for someone who claims to have no interest in me," I said.
"You enjoy playing with fire, don't you? Seeing how close you can get before you burn." His thumb brushed the corner of my mouth. "Before I make you burn."
Gods.
A sudden flash of light streaked across the window, followed by a muffled impact that shook dust from the shelves.
Xül's gaze flicked toward the window, one eyebrow lifting with detached curiosity. "Interesting," he murmured before returning his attention to me.
My heart hammered. Had I done that? The heat coursing through me felt wild, untethered, like something trying to claw its way out.
Get it together, Thais.
"Tomorrow," he breathed against my ear.
He held my gaze for one more endless moment before turning away, leaving me still pinned as the hands slowly dissolved.
"Dawn," his voice drifted back. "Don't be late."
I stayed there long after he'd gone, heart trying to claw its way out of my chest, every nerve ending on fire. Finally, I slid down the wall, trying to gather the scattered pieces of my dignity from the floor.