27. The Eternal City #2
“A necessary detour,” was all he offered, his eyes scanning the storefronts lining the cramped alley.
The street was a stark contrast to the grand avenues we’d just left behind—buildings leaned into one another as if sharing secrets, their foundations so ancient they seemed to have grown from the bedrock rather than being built upon it.
Cramped shops with faded signs lined both sides, most appearing to have stood unchanged for centuries.
Without warning, Xül stopped before a small, unassuming establishment wedged between a bookbinder and what appeared to be an apothecary.
The shop’s facade was worn smooth by time, its single window revealing a dim interior where glass jars lined the shelves.
No sign announced its purpose, just a simple etching in the stone above the door: a spiral.
“A moment,” Xül said.
He pushed open the door, releasing a cloud of sweet-spiced air that wrapped around us like a warm embrace.
Inside, the shop was even smaller than it appeared from the street—barely large enough for a counter, a few shelves lined with jars, and a modest workbench where something bubbled in a copper pot.
“Well, well.” A booming voice shattered the shop’s tranquil atmosphere. “The prodigal prince returns! Still looking too serious for your own good, I see.”
The speaker emerged from a back room, and I found myself facing the strangest being I’d yet encountered in this realm.
She appeared almost like a Shadowkin but far more substantial; her form settled into that of an elderly woman with deep silver skin.
Her eyes were completely black, and her hair moved independently of air currents, weaving itself into patterns above her head.
“Nyxis,” Xül replied, and I nearly stumbled at the sound of his voice—all the cold authority, all the arrogant distance, had vanished, replaced by something that sounded suspiciously like warmth. “You’re still inflicting your concoctions on unsuspecting customers, I see.”
“Inflicting?” She laughed. “The day you refuse one of my ‘concoctions’ is the day the Black Sea runs clear.” She bustled around the counter with surprising agility, reaching up to pat his cheek as if he were a child.
“How many years must pass before you visit your old Nyxis without being forced to by some crisis or another, hmm?”
To my absolute astonishment, Xül submitted to this treatment without protest. The corner of his mouth tugged upward in what might have actually been a smile.
“I’ve been occupied.”
“Occupied! Listen to him!” She turned to me conspiratorially. “As if ascending to godhood and becoming Warden of the Damned were reasonable excuses for neglecting the old woman who used to wipe tears from his cheeks.”
Xül’s almost-smile faltered. “Nyxis?—”
“And who is this?” She cut him off, peering at me with those strange eyes. “Don’t tell me you’ve finally found someone willing to tolerate that prickly personality of yours?”
“My mentee,” Xül corrected quickly. “For the Trials.”
“Ah!” She extended a hand toward me, and I found myself taking it without hesitation. Her skin felt like warm velvet. “I’m Nyxis, dear. I’ve known this one since he was small enough to hide beneath my counter.”
“Thais,” I replied, finding myself oddly at ease despite the strangeness of the situation. “And I wasn’t aware Xül was ever small enough to hide anywhere. ”
Her laughter filled the tiny shop again. “Oh, you’d be surprised! This shop has seen him at all sizes—including the time he was no taller than my elbow and tried to steal an entire jar of taffy.”
“I was six,” Xül interjected, a hint of embarrassment coloring his voice. “And I intended to pay.”
“With what? The buttons from your coat?” Nyxis teased, moving behind the counter. “You hadn’t yet mastered that imperious glare you now use to get your way.” She reached for a glass jar filled with small amber-colored candies. “Still the same, I assume?”
Xül nodded once, and she tipped several of them into a small paper twist, handling them with practiced care.
“Wait,” I said, realization dawning. “You dragged me all the way to the capital of death for candy?”
Xül shot me a look that might have been deadly if not for the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. “It’s not just candy.”
“It’s certainly not,” Nyxis agreed with mock severity. “These are my specialty, perfected over centuries.” She winked at me.
“How did you find this place?” I asked Xül, genuinely curious about this unexpected glimpse into his past.
“I was exploring the lower city—against direct orders, of course. I’d managed to slip away from my tutors.”
“Escaped from them, more like,” Nyxis corrected, sealing the package with a deft twist. “Came barreling through my door with three guards right behind him, wild-eyed and desperate for somewhere to hide.”
“I chose randomly,” Xül continued, accepting the package from her.
“This shop became his sanctuary,” Nyxis said, her voice softening. “Somewhere even the Prince of Draknavor could simply be a child for a while.”
A silent understanding passed between them—a look laden with history I couldn’t begin to understand. For a brief moment, I could almost see the shadow of who Xül might have been in another life, one where duty and darkness hadn’t shaped him .
“It was just a convenient location,” Xül said, though the excuse sounded hollow even to my ears. “And the confections were acceptable.”
“Acceptable!” Nyxis pretended to be outraged. “This from the boy who once ate so many he made himself ill and had to be carried home to his mother?”
Xül winced visibly at that, and I filed away this unexpected weakness—his apparent sweet tooth—for future reference.
“That only happened once,” he muttered.
“Once was enough for poor Osythe.” Nyxis turned to me again. “He was sheet-white and moaning about dying.”
I couldn’t help myself. “You ate yourself sick on candy?”
“I was a child,” he replied stiffly. “I hadn’t yet learned the concept of moderation.”
“Some might argue you still haven’t,” Nyxis remarked with a raised eyebrow. “Now, tell me how the Trials are going. You know I can never bring myself to watch.”
Xül sighed, but there was no real irritation in it. “Well, she survived the first one, clearly.”
Nyxis studied me with new interest. “That’s quite an achievement. Davina’s Trials have always been particularly nasty. Throw Thorne into the mix…” She shuddered.
“It was... educational,” I managed.
“She’s a feisty one, I’ll give her that,” Xül added with a smirk. “Tossed a knife of starlight straight through someone’s heart.”
“She can wield the stars?” Nyxis asked, delight crossing her features. “No wonder you chose her.” She leaned across the counter toward me, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “He used to watch the sky for hours as a child, you know. Even in a domain like this, he always loved the stars.”
Xül cleared his throat. “We should be going. There are matters requiring my attention.”
“There always are.” Nyxis’s expression sobered. “But remember, little prince, even the Warden of the Damned needs sweetness in his life occasionally.” She patted my hand. “Perhaps this one will remind you of that.”
“Unlikely,” I said dryly. “I’m not particularly sweet.”
“The best ones never think they are.” She winked at me before turning back to Xül. “Don’t be a stranger, my boy. Eternity is too long to spend entirely in shadows.”
“That was interesting,” I remarked as we stepped back into the narrow street.
“It was a waste of time,” he replied, though he slipped the package of sweets into an inner pocket. “But traditions have their place.”
“You actually smiled in there. I didn’t think your face could make that shape.”
His eyes locked on mine—all edge, no burn. “Don’t get used to it.”
“Too late. I’ve seen it now. I can’t unsee it.” I matched his stride. “The fearsome Death Prince has a sweet tooth and a surrogate grandmother who calls him ‘little prince.’ My world is forever changed.”
“If you mention this to anyone?—”
“You’ll what? Feed me taffy until I’m ill?” I couldn’t resist needling him, not when I’d finally found a crack in his impenetrable facade. “Does Morthus know his terrifying son once hid under a candy shop counter?”
“He was the one who found me there,” Xül replied unexpectedly. “He wasn’t angry, as I’d expected. He simply sat beside me, tried one of Nyxis’s confections, and told me I was quite an impressive criminal.”
I laughed. I hadn’t expected him to share anything genuine.
I felt so conflicted in these rare moments with him.
He was everything I’d sworn to destroy—a god, an executioner, a being who represented the system that had taken everything from me.
And yet. I couldn’t deny the way my pulse quickened when he was near, the way his rare smiles made something twist in my chest. This wasn’t part of the plan.
This was dangerous—not just because of what he was, but because of what it meant about me.
What kind of person was drawn to darkness?
“But that was a different time,” Xül continued, his voice hardening. “Before I understood my true purpose.” He straightened his shoulders, lengthened his stride, and just like that, the brief glimpse of mortality vanished, my inner troubles along with it.
“We have things to do,” he said, effectively ending this unexpected detour into his past.
We continued our ascent through the city, passing through what appeared to be some kind of market district. Stalls lined the winding streets, selling strange artifacts I couldn’t begin to identify.
A sudden gasp from the crowd ahead made me look up. Suspended above the square hung an enormous viewing portal, easily the size of a building. Through its shimmering surface, scenes played out in rapid succession.
A woman with intricate tattoos—frozen spears of ice pinning her to a tree. Her mouth opened in a silent scream.
Two people setting traps. One triggered his partner’s wire—leg gone at the knee. His partner took his supplies and ran.