Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
S he’s been gone too long , Ronin’s wolf whined.
I’m sure she’s fine , he consoled the creature. In case you hadn’t noticed, she can handle herself.
Ronin was also attempting to console himself . Had spent the entire time Mireille had been with Otto pacing the room, wondering if he should go check on her.
He knew she wouldn’t want that. Whatever play she was making, he wanted her to be able to execute it without his interference. He trusted her. She was the cleverest person he knew. Far cleverer than he was.
But none of those thoughts made him feel any better that it was coming up on an hour since she’d left.
Just when he was about to throw caution to the wind, tear through the estate, and go rescue her, the door swung open and Mireille stepped in. His shoulders relaxed at the sight of her, intact and unharmed, but worry stirred through him at her troubled eyes and fraught expression.
“What happened?” He rushed to her, gripping her upper arm. Needing to reassure himself of her physical presence.
Her lower lip quivered as a small breath escaped. She pulled out of his grip and plopped down into an armchair, avoiding his gaze. “Otto told me something about myself this morning. A secret my mother kept from me my entire life.”
Ronin fell to his knees before her, clasping her hands. Mimicking her supplication before him last night. “Whatever it is?—”
“My father was human,” she blurted, and Ronin clenched the armrests to keep from toppling over.
She brushed a hand through her hair, and her scent washed over him. The notes in it crystallized with stunning clarity. That underlying sweetness, that floral note on the edge of decay.
Mortality.
The answer had been, quite literally, right under his nose and on the tip of his tongue this entire time.
Ronin sat back on his heels, placing his palms on her thighs, trying to offer whatever comfort he could. Based on her age, he knew her father must have passed. His chest squeezed painfully for her. To find out the truth about her father at the same time as any hope of ever meeting the man was snatched away… Fuck, that was rough.
Not to mention terrifying. Ronin remembered what had become of anyone accused of being a half-breed during the war; they were hunted by the Empire, exposed by newly paranoid friends and neighbors, then thrown into Tartarus. He wondered how many of those prisoners had been taken based on rumor and speculation alone. Outwardly, there was no way to tell a full-blooded Fae from a half-breed. Well, other than that extremely faint dissonance he’d recognized in Mireille’s scent. Did the Empire know of it?
“They were from Akti,” Mireille choked out. “Both my mother and my father. I should have…should have realized earlier the significance of that territory, its proximity to the Desolation. It’s where the majority of the human settlements were before the war. Where the most interspecies breeding would have occurred.”
“So the other guests…”
“All have humans somewhere in their bloodlines. It’s what those stars signified in their family trees.”
“Mattias and Larissa…”
Mireille nodded.
“But Mattias could wield fire magic. Even if it was an extremely low level. If mixed human and Fae blood is what supplies it and you’re half human, why can’t you?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I’ve never… Maybe the awareness of it affects one’s ability to wield it? I had no idea that I possessed it, so why would I have ever tried to access it?”
“If awareness is the key, then why can’t Nero access water magic?” Ronin countered. “He suspected his ancestors possessed it, so surely he would’ve been able to conjure something .”
Mireille growled in frustration. “I don’t know .”
He squeezed her thighs tighter, his eyes softening. “I’m so sorry, Mireille. So sorry that you had to learn about your father this way.”
He sensed the shift immediately. That cool facade returned, her entire countenance hardening. Her shoulders stiffened as she pulled herself upright.
“I’m fine. Otto shared more important things with me that you need to hear.”
“Mireille…” He reached for her cheek, but she swatted him away.
“I said I’m fine , Ronin. This isn’t over. And if we don’t figure out exactly what the fuck Otto is up to, there are going to be far worse consequences for everyone here than some inconsequential secret of my parentage.”
Ronin wanted to argue with her. Wanted to shout that her feelings about this were important. That she deserved some time to process them. Deserved to give herself some of that compassion she’d shown him last night.
But he knew that work was her favorite distraction. So he didn’t push.
Not yet.
“Tell me,” he said, crossing to the other chair and listening as Mireille explained everything that Otto had told her this morning. About his search for Fae with human heritage. About the purpose of these bizarre performances, an attempt to appease the Creator.
About his desire to raise some weapon to take down the Empire, for fuck’s sake. The old billionaire really was off his fucking rocker.
“Otto will be distracted for the next several hours as he meets with the other guests.” Mireille pushed herself up out of her chair. “We should take the opportunity to see what else we can learn about this weapon he’s hoping to unleash. He offered me an unintentional clue this morning about where we should look.”
Ronin rose, stepping past her to open the door. “Your lead, Valette. Where are we headed?”
He was heartened by the small smile she offered him.
“To the place where death feeds life and life feeds death.
“The greenhouse.”
Mireille led Ronin through the halls of the guest wing, then down the staircase to the first floor.
In the parlors, small groups of guests chattered in excited speculation about their readings with Otto and Nostrata this morning.
Mireille held her tongue, though she wanted to scream at them. Wanted to warn them about what Otto had told her.
But causing chaos right now was not the most prudent move. They needed more information, needed to get a better grasp on Otto’s plans in order make their own to defeat him and save the guests.
Plus, even if she was able to convince them all to abandon this crazy pursuit, no one could go anywhere until Otto lifted that ward surrounding the estate.
Just as she and Ronin reached the double-doors to the patio, a hand gripped her upper arm.
“I was right!” Nero Beruglia gushed in Mireille’s ear as he pulled her aside. Ronin paused by the doors. “I just had my reading with Otto and Nostrata. I knew there was water power in my bloodline. My great-great-great-grandfather visited me in the Halfway. He was human, if you can believe it.”
Mireille plastered on a friendly smile. “I can believe it.”
“Otto says he’s found a way to restore the power to me.” Awe rippled across Nero’s feline features. “Something about a final performance tomorrow? I cannot wait to see what he’s got planned for us.”
Guilt twisted Mireille’s gut. She wanted to warn Nero to be on his guard, but something about the blatant hunger in the male’s eyes stilled her tongue. Mireille wasn’t confident he’d even believe her.
“How did Cecelia take the news?”
Nero’s face fell. “Her reading was not as…successful. No mixed bloodlines in her heritage. But she is excited for me. Wait until our children hear about this. I wonder if Otto will allow them to come here for a treatment as well.”
Mireille jolted. She’d never even considered what Otto might do to the guests without human blood.
“Just…be wary tomorrow. You’ve heard everything Otto said. About blessings not coming without sacrifice? Think long and hard tonight about what sacrifices you are willing to make.”
He waved her off. “Nonsense. I would make any sacrifice to reclaim the power that’s been taken from my family.”
Mireille’s gaze drifted to the parlor, full of Fae showcasing the same ravenous excitement as Nero. All firmly within Otto’s thrall. She returned pleading eyes to Nero, but he was lost to his dreams.
“Mireille,” Ronin called out, shooting her a questioning glance.
“Take care, Nero.” She loaded as much warning as she dared into the sign-off.
The male nodded, then bounded back to join the jubilant conversation in the parlor.
“What was that all about?” Ronin asked as they stepped out onto the patio.
“Otto’s got them all wrapped around his slithery fingers. They’ll do whatever he says in exchange for these gifts he’s promised them.”
Ronin remained silent as they hurried down the steps and into the greenhouse, the humid warmth within a balm against the freeze.
They clomped down the iron staircase, their footfalls echoing into silence broken only by the faint buzzing of insects and the eerie whisper of rustling leaves.
Inside the stone circle, those bushes of pale blue roses beckoned. Mireille could’ve been mistaken, but it almost seemed as though the blooms had grown larger since she’d last seen them.
“So,” Ronin whispered, “what, exactly, are we looking for?”
“There was dirt caked around Otto’s fingernails during our meeting this morning.” Mireille swept her gaze down several of the leafy pathways. “Let’s split up and look around. See if there are any areas where the soil looks recently disturbed.”
Ronin nodded, taking one of the pathways to the left as Mireille stalked down one to the right.
Despite her anxiety, despite her world-rocking conversation with Otto this morning, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe at the specimens around her, had to stop herself from abandoning this task and going on a foraging adventure through the impressive collection.
She passed a tufted row of dienswort, small red blooms against a sea of deep green, and her fingers itched to pluck up the flowers. Dienswort was difficult to come by, and expensive. She stepped away from the bounty with a mournful sigh, then rounded a corner and skidded to a halt.
Towering nearly all the way to the domed ceiling was a tree that Mireille had read about, but had never seen in real life. And if the legends were true, no one had seen one in centuries. A thick, stark white trunk speared up into a canopy of foliage in a vivid spectrum, every color in the rainbow and all the hues in between. Gauzy green moss draped from the branches, and Mireille couldn’t help but gawk.
Resurrection trees once covered the plains in the Desolation. Legend stated that their leaves had a myriad of magical uses. Including the ability pull a Fae back from the brink of True Death. But they’d all been decimated during the war, destroyed by the humans in retaliation against the Fae and their magic. She wondered how Otto had managed to get his hands on one, much less kept it alive. They were very temperamental, especially outside their native climate.
She was so awestruck, she almost didn’t notice the dirt dusted across the pathway.
“Ronin!” she called out. He must have been close, because he was beside her in an instant. “Look.” She pointed to the trail.
He cocked an eyebrow and they both stepped over the low fence to examine the tree.
Ronin ran his fingers through the leaves as Mireille crouched, circling the trunk. At the base, right at the edge of the soil, was a small knot. Smoother and shinier than a knot should be. As if fingers had often rubbed across it. She pressed against it, and the ground beneath them lowered, a slow descent accompanied by a waterfall of soil.
The platform hit the ground with an echoing boom, and as soon as they stepped off, it rose again, closing above and leaving them in a darkened, white stone hallway.
Mireille grabbed Ronin’s hand and he intertwined their fingers.
To their left, faint blue light crept across the walls. To the right was nothing but solid stone. Ronin swiveled his head, sniffing the air. “I think the crypt is on the other side of this wall.”
They turned a corner, and Mireille gasped.
The white walls gave way to packed dirt, an underground cave containing a honeycomb of crevices carved into gargantuan, gnarled white roots. Each crevice, about a hundred in total, held a piece of glowing anastasium. The stones pulsed, brightening and dimming. As if they were breathing.
Ronin bent down before a crevice to examine a stone. “Are these?—”
“They’re souls,” said a low female voice behind them.
Mireille whirled to find Layla Fetar standing in the entrance to the chamber.
Before Layla even had a chance to continue, Ronin rushed the tiny female, wrapping his hand around her throat and slamming her against the dirt wall.
“What the fuck do you want?” he snarled.
Layla clawed at his hands, face purpling, choking down sips of air.
“Ronin,” Mireille muttered a warning.
“Not what you think,” Layla wheezed.
“Try me.” Ronin leaned in closer and extended his fangs. His claws as well, the thickest slicing into Layla’s flesh and drawing a line of blood.
Layla’s foot shot out, connecting with Ronin’s groin in a well-aimed, forceful blow.
He doubled over, retching, and Layla dropped to the floor, landing gracefully on her feet. She whipped out a throwing knife and pointed the tip at Ronin’s eye.
Mireille bounded between them. “What do you want? Other than to damage goods I had plans for later?”
Layla breathed heavily as she tried to recover from Ronin’s attack. “Drop the act. I know you two aren’t really an item.”
Mireille assisted Ronin to the floor as he cradled his injured groin. “Not an act,” he rasped.
“I know why you’re really here,” Layla said. “And I need your help.”
Ronin tensed, though both he and Mireille kept their expressions neutral. “Bullshit. You tried to have me killed at the fight last weekend.”
“I didn’t,” Layla hissed. “Who do you think paid Maloney to curb the killing blow? Otto was furious when his plan to eliminate his competition for Mireille didn’t pan out, though he never suspected why. I’ve been protecting you the whole time. He wanted to send Kosera after you when you woke up during the seance last night too, rough you up a bit. But I convinced him to let me do it instead. Promised to incapacitate you with Delirium. I knew you’d recover.” Layla bent forward, bracing her forearms on her knees, chest heaving.
“Why didn’t you tell us before?” Mireille asked.
“I thought I could take Otto down on my own, that I wouldn’t need to endanger anyone else. Or involve two spies sent by Imperial Affairs.” Layla cocked an eyebrow. “But I’m out of time. High Gods Matakos, that’s some grip you have.” She broke into a coughing fit.
Mireille approached, palms raised, then faster than Layla could stop her, had the female disarmed. She flipped a throwing knife in one hand as she winked at Ronin over her shoulder. He shot her a heated look.
She leveled the knives at Layla. “Explain. If I like what you have to say, maybe I’ll let you have these back. Though I can’t guarantee it. These are so light and well-balanced. Might just keep them for myself.”
Layla massaged her throat, the redness already fading thanks to her Fae healing. “If you help me, I just might let you.”
Mireille ambled over to Ronin, placing herself before him, the tip of the blades still aimed at Layla.
“I don’t work for Otto,” Layla said, trying to convey her sincerity with unwavering eye contact. “Or rather, he thinks I work for him, but I’ve been doing quite the opposite for decades.”
Both Ronin and Mireille remained silent.
Layla smirked. “Saving your questions until the end? I like you two.” Her features hardened. “I work for an organization called the Teles Chrysos. I’m going to assume you’ve never heard of us.”
Mireille hadn’t heard of them, though she did recognize the word Teles. The name of that symbol long associated with the Fallen Goddess, a circle slashed through with a vertical line.
“We are working to keep Adelphinae’s faith alive. Her true faith. Not whatever bastardized version Otto believes he’s supporting.” Layla ran a hand down her white braid, the black one blending in with her tight leather uniform. “Otto has been hunting down information about the Fallen Goddess for centuries. At first, we thought to recruit him, but he’s stymied all our efforts at contact. Pursing his own agenda. Our leadership decided it would be wise to put someone on the inside. To make a move against him, if necessary.”
“Let me guess,” Mireille chimed in. “Now’s the time to make the move.”
Layla nodded. “Everything he’s working toward culminates tomorrow.”
Mireille aimed a careful glance at Ronin. Could they trust Layla? Ronin gave her a subtle nod.
“The Empire has assigned us the same task,” he said. “We’ve been sent to decipher his plans and thwart them. Take him down.”
“One of the rare occasions where our goals align with the Empire. The Erabis family are worse than you can imagine. They will be the destruction of this world if their power remains unchecked.” Mireille remembered Layla’s history. That she’d been a Shadow Maiden to Empress Mila herself. Must have had a front row seat to the Erabis family’s evils. “But they aren’t the most immediate threat. If Otto is able to raise his weapon…”
“What is the weapon?” Mireille asked.
A look of pure horror twisted Layla’s delicate features. “He intends to resurrect Nyctima.”
“ What ?” Ronin spat at the same time Mireille whispered, “How is that even possible?”
“Nyctima is a myth ,” Ronin said.
Layla shook her head. “The most powerful myths are woven with threads of truth. Nyctima was once very much real. An emissary, of sorts, for Adelphinae on Ethyrios. They say it was Leonin Erabis’s grandfather, Phaeban Erabis, who destroyed her over a millennium ago, back when their family first turned from the Creator’s faith. He used her bones to build parts of this estate.”
Mireille shuddered. Cathedral of Bones. Literally .
“How was he able to destroy her?” Ronin asked.
“He summoned her with a flute made of fire opal. A powerful object that Adelphinae had gifted to the Delphine, the head of her priestesses here in Ethyrios. Phaeban sacked one of her temples and stole it. Stygios’s myth, the Taming of Nyctima , is a bastardization of Phaeban’s story, twisted to make it seem as if the High God himself turned Nyctima into his own pet .”
“The statue in the galleries,” Mireille turned to Ronin. “Stygios was playing a flute.”
Ronin didn’t respond, was still carefully regarding Layla. “How do you know this? And why does no one else on the continent speak of it?”
“Only a few very brave, and very old, Fae have dared keep the true word of the Creator alive against the Empire’s wishes. Many are members of our organization.”
“The real fire opal flute,” Mireille asked. “Don’t tell me that?—”
Layla nodded. “Otto has acquired it.”
“ How ?” Ronin asked, incredulously. “And why would the Empire be so careless as to let an object like that slip through their fingers?”
“It was lost during the chaos of Leonin’s war with the humans. I have no idea how Otto finally managed to track it down after all these years.”
“And you’re sure he has it?” Mireille asked.
“He speaks as if he does. It’s central to his plans. Though I’ve searched this entire estate and have yet to see any sign of it.”
“Still,” Ronin said, “if Nyctima was destroyed, why would the flute summon her? How does Otto intend to resurrect her?”
Layla pointed toward the alcoves. “By using those.”
Mireille turned to survey the glowing stones.
“Those are the souls of the Fae that Otto has been luring to his estate with promises of restoring their elemental magic,” Layla said sadly. “Souls of mixed species heritage. Offerings to the Creator and the very fuel that’s rebuilding her fallen emissary. He’s been feeding them to Nyctima’s spirit. Strengthening her. The tree above keeps them intact, a symbiotic relationship of sorts. The souls give life to the tree and in return, the tree restores them after Nyctima’s feedings.”
“Where death feeds life and life feeds death,” Ronin whispered.
Layla continued, “Her spirit comes to feed every one-hundred-and-five days.”
“The Scales of Nyctima,” Mireille breathed. “Those lights that appear in the sky. They actually are Nyctima?”
“Sort of,” Layla confirmed. “They are a cast-off of her spiritual energy, the only part of her that still remains. When they appear, a path between this world and the Halfway opens, allows Otto and Nostrata to perform those seances.”
Mireille gestured toward the stones. “So, is that what he intends for the other guests tomorrow? To burn them and capture their souls to feed to Nyctima once he summons her?”
Layla shook her head again, her mouth drawing downward. “No. This is the final feeding. A live feeding. It’s why he’s gathered so many guests. He only invited one at a time before he acquired the flute. This will be a group offering to both Nyctima and Adelphinae that Otto hopes will persuade the Goddess to bless him with fire magic.”
“He has no human heritage, though,” Ronin chimed in. “How could he hope to acquire it?”
“He may not have human heritage, but he does have mixed blood running through his system.” Layla shuddered. “He drinks from the guests. After he kills them and before he burns them. He’s consumed plenty these past decades.”
“Why doesn’t he just drink from humans?” Mireille asked.
“He’s convinced it has to be mixed blood.” Layla shuddered.
A crushing sadness weighed on Mireille’s shoulders. All this senseless death. She remembered the one that had kicked off this fucking bizarre week. “The diva?—”
“He fed from her, yes. Then fed her soul to Nyctima to open the Halfway last night, to confirm his suspicions about the heritage of this group of guests.”
Ronin crossed his arms over his chest, skepticism overtaking his handsome features. “Why is the Teles Chrysos trying to thwart him? Wouldn’t you all want Otto to resurrect a weapon that can take down the Empire?”
Layla scoffed. “And give Otto all that power? Whoever wields that flute will control Nyctima. Can use her as a tool for either good or evil. Which do you think Jurgev Otto will choose? Besides, it is not yet time for us to take on the Empire. The prophecy has not yet been fulfilled.”
Mireille waited for Layla to elaborate, but her candor had come to an end.
“Why are you trusting us with all this?” Ronin asked. “We work for your enemies.”
Layla leaned back against the wall. “I can’t take him and Nostrata and Kosera down alone. I need your help. We work together to defeat him, then go our separate ways. And you promise not to reveal anything about our organization to your bosses.”
Mireille glanced to Ronin again, reading the same thing on his face that she had felt after her conversation with Otto this morning.
Fuck the Empire.
Not only had they punished Ronin for following their orders, she had a sneaking suspicion that they’d been hiding things from her as well. That they, and Skanisse, knew far more about Otto’s plans than they’d revealed. Had known exactly what Mireille was and had put her squarely in Otto’s crosshairs.
Layla continued. “Whatever Otto’s got planned for tomorrow?—”
“He wants me to perform the final solo from The Curse of Faurana ,” Mireille cut in. “As a dishonor to the High Goddess to appease Adelphinae. I don’t think he means to kill me at the end of it, like he did the diva.”
“You don’t think ?” Ronin growled.
“He wants me to join him.”
Ronin’s face paled. “What the fuck ? You didn’t say yes, did you?”
“Of course I did. Let him think what he wants.” Mireille approached the roots, surveyed the stones. Close up, she could see a faint, rainbow shimmer running through them, small, nearly microscopic particles.
Was that really all a soul was comprised of?
“Do you remember a Beastrunner female named Larissa Bisere?” Mireille asked.
Layla cocked her head. “Coyote bi-form?” Mireille nodded. “Yes. She was one of Otto’s most eager guests. She asked so many questions, about herself and her heritage. I liked her; she was spunky. I almost tried to save her, but she was so desperate for Otto’s offerings that I’m not sure she would have believed me even if I’d tried to talk her out of it.”
“Was Otto able to restore her fire?” Mireille asked.
“He’s never even tried,” Layla whispered. “He kills them before they even get the chance.”
“Which one of these stones belongs to her?”
“Why?”
“Because her brother deserves a chance to say goodbye,” Mireille answered. Ronin squeezed her shoulder.
Layla pointed to the center crevice.
“How do you know which stones belong to which slain guests?” Ronin asked.
“Because I bore witness to each of their deaths.” Layla squared her shoulders, pain and regret passing over her beautiful features. “It was the least I could do.”
“What does he do with their ashes?” Ronin whispered.
“He uses them to fertilize his rosebushes.” Layla sneered. “Bone meal is full of nutrients. The traces of anastasium are what gives those roses their pale blue color.” She plucked up Larissa’s stone and handed it to Mireille.
“Why give this to me now?” Mireille slipped the cool stone into her pocket. “Won’t Otto realize it’s missing tomorrow?”
“We’ll just have to make sure he’s too distracted to notice.” Layla’s grin was savage. Deadly.
“Follow me.”