18. Checkmate
Checkmate
My hands wouldn't stop shaking.
I pressed them hard against my thighs, willing the trembling to cease as I stared at the damned coin. It gleamed with that otherworldly light, pulsing in time with the wild, panicked rhythm of my heart.
Xül's eyes locked onto the talisman like a shark scenting blood.
Slowly, his smile turned lethal. "I do so enjoy when my theories prove correct."
Sand filled my throat. "I don't know what you mean."
He stalked closer, that dual-colored gaze never leaving the coin. "Only an Aesymarean can imbue an object to this alchemical level." His voice dropped. "The blessed simply lack the... capacity for such creation."
Then those eyes were on me, dissecting me down to bone and marrow. "Divine blood runs through your veins, starling. As surely as it runs through mine."
I stared at my creation, silently cursing myself for falling into his trap.
This— this was what betrayed me. Not my unnatural strength, not the breathtaking things I could do, but this godsdamned piece of metal I'd poured too much of myself into.
My mind scrambled desperately for some explanation, some lie that could salvage this.
But I was already caught in his web.
"So," he said, walking a slow circle around me, "who is it then?"
I lifted my chin, trying to summon the same defiance that had rattled him before. "I told you my story."
Xül's laughter had an edge to it. "Well, you clearly left out some rather imperative details."
He began to pace, his hands clasped behind his back as he laid out his evidence.
"The Proving was honestly enough to sound the alarm.
But more than that, there's your strength.
" His eyes raked over me appraisingly. "And let's not forget your unnatural beauty. The kind that is so distracting, starling. That flush of divinity.”
I swallowed hard. Could he see the rapid flutter at my neck?
"I'm assuming it's your father," he continued, conversational as discussing the weather. "Hard to hide a pregnancy in Voldaris."
Blood roared in my ears. I pressed my lips together until they ached, fighting every urge to confirm or deny.
"And I know exactly which books you've been devouring in the library.
" His tone turned mocking. "Fascinating coincidence—I recently borrowed those same texts.
But you knew that already, didn't you?" Darkness crept into his expression.
"Your brother possesses abilities undocumented since the Primordials walked among us. "
"You're wrong." The words came out hollow, pathetic.
Xül stepped forward. Too close. He was always too godsdamned close.
"I don't take kindly to being thought a fool," he whispered, his breath warm against my ear. "And I’m not known for my patience. So tell me now, starling, before I inform the Twelve that someone has been putting their cock where it doesn't belong."
I stumbled backward, the truth of my exposure washing over me. My secrets now lay visible in Xül's unflinching gaze.
I'd spent my life constructing walls around my true self, learning which smiles deflected questions, which words diverted attention. This vigilance had become so much a part of me that it was as easy as breathing.
Now Xül had dismantled those defenses with unsettling ease. He'd found the hidden door I’d never meant anyone to discover and walked through it as if it had always stood open. I felt stripped bare.
The feeling left me dizzy with a mix of dread and dangerous relief.
"I don't know who my father is," I lied desperately. "The man who raised me is mortal."
Xül tilted his head, studying me with those unnervingly perceptive eyes. "And your mother?"
I looked down, tears welling up despite my efforts to remain strong.
"Ah," Xül said softly, as if pieces of a puzzle had just clicked into place.
I couldn't speak past the lump in my throat.
"Let's see now," he mused, tapping his fingers against his thigh in contemplation.
"Which Aesymar would spawn both a starwielder and a god killer? Who would break such a sacred, divine law? It couldn’t be one of the Twelve, of course.
" His eyes glittered. "I know better than most how strictly they enforce such things. "
My legs felt weak, and I stumbled back to the sitting area, slumping down onto the cushioned bench. Xül followed, crouching in front of me as he tried to meet my eyes.
"Tell me what you know," he said, his voice gentler now but no less insistent.
I forced myself to look at him. "I know nothing."
"I don't believe you."
I pressed my lips together, refusing to say another word.
"You know," he mused, "there are other alchemical methods to reveal such truths.
They require considerably more blood, of course.
" He leaned closer, voice turning to a coaxing tone.
"If you truly don't know, aren't you dying to discover which Aesymar took your mother as a lover? Which one left her to die?"
The words sank under my skin. The weight of my options pressed down on me, robbing me of breath. I could see in Xül's eyes that he wouldn't give up until he got the answers he was looking for.
Finally, speaking so quietly I almost couldn't hear myself, I told him what he wanted to know. That one single name that had plagued me my entire life. The one I rarely spoke aloud. "Olinthar."
Xül froze. His face went utterly still.
I’d never seen the Warden lost for words.
"Surely you jest," he finally managed to say.
"It's him," I admitted. Speaking the truth felt like shedding armor. "It was Olinthar."
I let my head fall back against the bench, staring at the stars scattered above.
Xül rose without warning, his movement so sudden I flinched.
He walked to the drinks table, each step controlled.
The silence stretched as he selected a glass and poured.
He grabbed a second glass, filled it and stalked towards me, pushing it into my numb fingers.
I could barely feel it—the cold from the ice, the ridges of the glass.
When he finally sat, he pressed his hands to his mouth, but laughter leaked through his fingers anyway—shocked, vengeful, almost drunk with whatever implications were now drifting through his mind.
The sound broke me out of my stupor.
"The King of Order himself," he said, shaking his head in apparent delight. "What a twist indeed."
He took a long sip of his drink, savoring both the alcohol and the moment, before asking with obvious relish, "Did you get yourself dragged into these Trials in order to reunite with your long-lost father?"
The question stole my breath. How dare he make light of this—of everything I'd endured, everything I'd lost? A fracture of rage split through the numbness .
"Olinthar doesn't know we exist," I spat, my voice brittle with anger.
Xül raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Are you certain about that? Olinthar isn't exactly known for his... forgetfulness."
"Why would he remember?" The words exploded out of me. "Do you think he keeps careful records of every mortal woman he?—"
I couldn't finish the sentence. The words died in my throat.
"Surely he remembers getting a mortal pregnant," Xül pressed, leaning forward, unblinking, waiting—the persistence of a hunter who'd caught the scent of blood. "Even for a god, that's not exactly a forgettable occurrence."
My hands clenched into fists in my lap. "She was back in Elaren before she even knew she was expecting." The words came out hard, thrashing, each one a stone thrown with violent force. "The encounter was not consensual."
Xül froze, his glass halfway to his lips. Neither of us breathed. The laughter that had been dancing in his eyes died as completely as if I'd snuffed out a candle.
He set his drink down, the crystal making a soft clink against the table. When he finally spoke, his voice had dropped to a low growl that seemed to rumble up from deep in his chest.
"I’m sorry."
The word lingered in the air. I turned away, unable to look at him, unable to process the storm of emotions churning inside me. Shame, rage, relief—they all crashed together until I felt like I might drown in them.
The only sound was the soft clink of ice shifting in Xül's abandoned glass. I counted my heartbeats— thirty, forty, fifty. When I finally found the courage to speak, my voice came out small and weak and infuriating.
"What do you plan to do with this information?"
Xül was quiet for a long moment, staring at the wall. "Well," he said eventually, "obviously we can't tell anyone about this discovery. Not yet. "
I flashed him a sharp look, my heart stuttering. "Yet?"
"No, no, no. That would be far too boring."
My mind immediately drifted to my true goal—the pact I'd made with Thatcher, the promise I'd given to end Olinthar's reign permanently. My stomach dropped. Had I just handed Xül the weapon to destroy me?
"I don’t understand," I said finally, trying to keep my voice neutral.
"Secrets are much more valuable when they’re kept close to the chest," Xül countered. "Only used when the time arises."
For the briefest moment, I found myself wondering if Xül and I might actually be on the same side in all of this.
The enemy of my enemy, and all that. But I quickly reminded myself that there was a world of difference between having leverage over the King of Gods and killing him.
Xül wanted to wound Olinthar's pride. I wanted to stop his heart.
A chill ran down my spine. "What does that mean for me?"
Xül leaned back in his chair. His eyes gleamed. It was the look of someone who had just discovered a particularly valuable chess piece.
"It means, starling," he said slowly, the words crashing into the silent room, "that we make absolutely certain you don't die in the Trials. It means we make sure you not only survive—but that you ascend."