10. Chapter 10
Chapter 10
Zeph
I 've barely seen Himureal since he tasted my blood. I'm not sure what he saw in it, but whatever it was, he didn't kill me, so it couldn't have been too terrible. I'm tearing my office apart again, searching fruitlessly for the journal of the last high priest of winter. Viola says we need it if we're going to be successful and that Mace said it was here, so every spare moment I've had, I've been going through this place with a fine-toothed comb. But still, nothing is revealing itself to me.
My head is buried in one of the desk drawers when a cool breeze causes the hair on the back of my neck to stand up. I whip up to lock eyes with the Frostweaver. His clear blue eyes are narrowed on me. I clear my throat. "Frostweaver."
"High priest," he responds, floating into the chair opposite me. His long, white hair is pulled back in a single braid down his back, and he's wearing a pair of black wrapped trousers with a crimson sleeveless tunic covering his upper body—a brutally beautiful God of blood and shadows. "Looking for something?"
I nod, pulling open the smaller center drawer of my desk. I reach in, pretending to be searching for something. My hand hits the base of it, and it thunks, a hollow sound that nearly makes me suck in a breath.
Is that what I think it is? Could that be a hollow bottom?
Quickly, I pull out an intricate pen that I immediately recognize as my father's. "Here it is. I knew Mace took this!" Himureal gives me a curious look, and I shrug. "My father was also head of the Patricians and he used this pen when he'd sign new laws into effect. I knew Mace had it, but I could never find it."
It's not a lie. I spent years after my father died looking for this pen. Mace swore up and down he didn't have it. I slip it into my pocket.
"How can I help you today, Frostweaver?" I ask, forcing sincerity into my voice.
He hums, steepling his fingers. "Today, I am going to bring Viola to Kon. He has been visiting her the past few days, and I think he has sufficiently riled her up enough. She seems eager to put him down and seek revenge for her parents."
My eyebrows raise. "She's going to be out of jail now?" I try to hide the eagerness in my voice. "She's finally on our side?"
"That I am not so sure. I am hoping this taste of freedom I will allow her will be the final push she needs. Once she is willing to dedicate herself to me and let me taste her blood, I think then we will let her out."
It's everything I can do not to laugh. The idea of Viola letting him taste her blood is impossible to believe. If that's what he's waiting on, he will be dust before it happens. "Brilliant plan, my God."
He preens under my praise, unable to discern how false it is. "I think so, too." He stretches his long legs out, sinking down a bit into the chair and making himself comfortable. "After all, tasting your blood was so illuminating."
My shoulders stiffen.
Fuck.
I knew this was coming. I knew he'd see that my loyalty was not with him but with her. Is this it? Is he going to strike me down here before I have the chance to make up with Mace?
"Your desire to protect and care for me as the God of Winter was so strong that I could almost believe you do have the draw," he hums, smiling softly at me. "I am very impressed by you, Zeph. You have grown into your title beautifully. I am glad we made our arrangement all those weeks ago. It has been very beneficial to both of us."
My stomach drops out. That's what he saw? A desire to protect the God of Winter?
The magic that created the draw within me protected me from his probing. That's the only explanation I can think of. A coil of snakes that had taken up residence in my stomach loosen at his words. "Thank you, Frostweaver. I appreciate all of the opportunity you have afforded me." I bow my head, making my voice as deferential as I can.
He rises to his feet, pushing back from the desk as he does so. "We will have a long history together, you and I. And with Viola between us, we will be unstoppable."
The moment he is out of eyesight, I rip the center drawer of the desk open and dig my fingers into the sides. Eventually, after my nails crack and break, I gain purchase on the slim edge and am able to yank up. Underneath the false bottom is a small leather notebook, its pages yellowed with age. On the front, a snowflake is branded directly into the cover. I gingerly pick it up, my hands shaking.
Opening the cover gently, I flip through the pages to confirm what I already knew: This is the journal of the last high priest of winter, and this is what I have been looking for.
I shove it into my pocket and rocket out the door in search of Cirrha.
"Zeph!" Cirrha shrieks as I tumble into her office and slam the door behind her. She's got paperwork strewn all around her desk, the back end of a pen shoved between her lips as she chews on it.
"It's time," I say, hand on my side to catch my breath. "Himureal is going to get Viola and bring her to Kon. If we're going to send the message and get her out, it's now."
She pushes to her feet, "Well, fuck, we better hurry."
The Tempest pushes past me, the silk of her pink jumpsuit brushing my arm and pebbling my skin with the sensation. The winner's village is roughly a four-hour walk from Ytopie, and its location was always kept secret. The story pushed was that it protected the humans from the fae, but really, it protected the fae from knowing the truth .
There have not and never will be, humans living within the village.
We move as fast as we can, knowing eventually, our absence will be noticed. But this is the best way we can think of to minimize the chance of our messages getting intercepted. Throughout the walk, Cirrha and I take the opportunity to get to know one another better. She tells me about Taret, her partner who passed away after decades together.
"He was something else, Zeph," she says with a smile. "You would've liked him if you had known him."
Taret and I ran in different circles, but I remember seeing them together. "How'd he die?" I ask, and then immediately regret it. "I'm sorry, that's too personal."
"You're fine," she says with a sad smile. "He got sick. The Spring Seasonale did everything they could, but none of their magic could heal him fast enough." She kicks her toe in the dirt. "I'm lucky I got the time I did, you know? Any time in love is worth it."
I fold my arms behind my back, humming to myself. I have grown to realize that I was never in love with Viola. I love her, I worship her, and every part of my being is geared towards protecting her, but that's not what being in love is.
When I think about it objectively, I've never been in love.
"I'll have to take your word for it," I remark.
"Never been in love, Nightroot?" Cirrha grins widely at me.
Shaking my head, I do my best to avoid eye contact. "No, I don't think so. I thought I was with Viola, I mean, but now that it wasn't love that I was feeling. It was the purest form of devotion."
"You'll make someone very happy someday, Zeph." I glance at Cirrha from the corner of my eye, and she's glancing down, a warm flush on her dark cheeks.
After several hours, we arrive at the village, which isn't really a village at all. There is no sprawling landscape of homes and shops. Instead, a single small home sits at the edge of a dense forest.
I suppose, at first glance, one could be tricked into thinking behind this small guard house is a city hiding amongst the trees, but I know better.
Cirrha sends a message with Air magic to Plume asking for their location so we can get Viola to them, and then we shove open the braced wooden door that is jammed with disuse.
It's a single home with a bathroom and a bed dressed in threadbare linen. A light coating of dust covers all of the surfaces, and the scent of copper is strong in the air. This is clearly a place where Stone slept after he brought the winners to their deaths before returning to the city.
"This is the village?" Cirrha says, raising her eyebrows as she surveys the room. "Wow. How did we all let this go on so long?"
"Honestly?" I answer, taking a seat at the small kitchen table. "I think we just wanted to believe it so badly. The idea that the winners were given an incredible life made us feel better about the fact that we killed the losers."
"Are we really that selfish?" she asks, sitting across from me. Her rich brown eyes meet mine. "I thought we were doing what was right."
"We all did. It's all we've known."
We look at each other, really look, and it's like her eyes are stripping bare. It's like she can see through me, into my very being, and she's picking through the pieces that I keep hidden for the one that intrigues her the most.
"Do you regret it?" she asks quietly. "Any of it? The planning to expose the Race, giving that up for Viola, partnering with Himureal?"
My gut clenches, and I take a moment to dig deep into myself.
Do I regret it?
"I don't think it's that black and white," I say, sighing and pushing the front legs of the chair off the floor as I recline back. "If I were to go back and change a single thing, we'd be in a different place. Maybe a better place, but who can know for sure? What I do know is that every decision I made got me right here, right now. Serving my God, working to avenge the death of my friend, and getting to know you better."
Her eyes sparkle at that last one, but she doesn't say anything, folding her hands in front of her on the table. Her fingers are adorned with multiple gold rings that clink together with the movement. "If I could know for certain that changing a decision would bring Loris back to me, I would cut my arm off for the chance to do it," I say quietly. "But that's not the way the world works. Instead, I have to take what was presented to me and do the best I can to not be a fuck up this time around."
"I don't think you're a fuck up," she says quietly.
"Kind of you to say, but come on, Cirrha, let's be honest with one another here. I have done a lot of fucked up things since Viola came into my orbit." I lower my chair to the floor and stand up, pacing across the small room. "And there's no one to blame for that but me, of course. Maybe some of it can be explained away by the draw, but still. I made the choices I did." I run my fingers mindlessly over the tattoos that adorn my neck. "All I can hope is those I have wronged forgive me and that I have a chance to make a difference in this world."
Cirrha stands, crossing the room to grab my hands. "For what it's worth, I like the man I see before me."
I can't help myself. Her eyes are open and vulnerable, her hands so soft in my own. I pull one hand from hers and wrap it around her neck and up to her hairline, pulling her face close to mine. We rest our foreheads together, breathing in each other's air. From this close, I can smell the rich scent of vanilla and honey on her skin. I raise my eyebrows in question, unwilling to take more than she wants to give me. An almost imperceptible nod of her head is all I need, and then my lips are on hers.
Her mouth is soft, her lips plush as they move against my own. It's a kiss that I feel racing down my spine, every part of my body alight with a flame of passion. I yank her body closer still, the feel of her soft stomach, her breasts, my hips notching between hers enough to weaken my knees.
The kiss is hungry, a call for more, for closeness that it seems both of us have been craving for some time. Her hands drift up my chest, fingertips digging into my shirt and pulling towards me. "Off, take this off," she whispers against my lips.
I do, pulling the hem over my head and standing in front of her, panting, both of our lips swollen. She peruses my body slowly, and I grab her waist and pull her back to me, devouring her face again. My hands slip under the straps of her jumpsuit, moving to pull it off her body when a voice stops me in my tracks.
"We're in Feria. White stone building, red door. Bring her quick. Mace needs her."
Plume's frantic speech hits us both in the gut, and I yank my shirt back over my head as we both take off at a run back to Ytopie.