CHAPTER ONE #2
Aegeas gestured for Talon to follow him to the nobles. Talon stalked toward them slow and easy; his strong back straight, his solid chest pushed out, his toned arms loose at his sides. He moved with a lupine stealth, like an alpha wolf closing in on its prey.
“Welcome,” said Remus as the nobles all bowed in respect. “As always, it is a pleasure to see you.”
Talon’s only response was a grunt that held a tinge of doubt.
Remus snapped his fingers. At that, several humans nervously rushed toward the newcomers with trays of food and drink.
As Talon grabbed a tankard of what was probably mead, I couldn’t help but stare at him, admiring the faint luminosity beneath all that skin the color of desert sand. His irises were a unique midnight-black dotted by silver and featured gold swishes, making me think of a night sky.
His short, sleek hair was black as a void just like the dusting of stubble that darkened his strong jaw. A thin scar sliced diagonally across his carnal mouth and chin—the only mark on his otherwise unblemished face.
You could never mistake him for human. He was striking in a way that was so very other. Too perfect. Too enticing. Too predatory.
Hearing a chuckle coming from one of his uniformed men, I cut my gaze their way. Everything about them, from their powerful builds to their air of supreme danger, screamed I could end you with my thumb.
They stretched. Ate. Drank. But none moved from their wagons or steeds, busy ensuring that the offerings in the occupied wagons—all of whom would be from the other settlements of Phoenixia—didn’t try to make a run for it.
I looked back at Talon just as he placed his tankard on a tray. He swept an impressed gaze over the town and then flicked up a questioning brow at Remus.
In his shoes, I’d wonder why the settlement looked like a ghost town. We had buildings in various stages of decay. Our water tower was barely standing. There was an awful lot of rust, rot, grime, and overgrown weeds. More, the human population was lower than it should be.
“A plague hit our settlement,” Remus explained, drawing to his full height. “The many tragic deaths obviously led to several problems, particularly since there was a loss of laborers and a slump in trade.”
I frowned. He spoke as though it had happened only months ago. The godkin had had years to repair the place but simply hadn’t bothered.
“We have been focused on recovering from the aftermath,” he added.
Bristling, I felt my brows shoot up. We? Uh, the mortals had focused on it. We’d been responsible for burning every corpse, burying the ashes in pits, scrubbing every building, and training survivors in various trades. The godkin had been of little aid.
Sending an accusing look at Remus, Talon moved his hands this way and that, clearly trying to convey some message.
“This sort of damage comes from long-term neglect,” one of the officiates interpreted, his voice very deep. Long and bulky, he had not one hair on his head. “If you’re finding it too difficult to act as Baron, perhaps it’s time that you were replaced.”
Remus’ trim figure tensed.
“That won’t be necessary, Talon,” Aegeas smoothly cut in. “Remus plans to improve the state of the town now that it’s beginning to recover from the effects of the outbreak.”
Talon let out a skeptical grunt, lowering his arms to his sides.
One might think that there was no way someone who didn’t speak could possibly lead an Order, but he had one of the most expressive faces I’d ever come across. He also had an in-command air that was further accentuated by the dignified upward tilt of his chin.
“Do you think he took an oath of silence?” Aurelia quietly pondered.
“I heard that Vitus denied him the gift of speech when He created him,” said Kemp.
With regards to Talon, there were plenty more rumors where those came from.
“Do you all wish to take a short rest before returning to Deimos?” Remus asked. “Your steeds could surely do with a respite.”
Hardly. Arion horses—much like the Laelaps, for that matter—could go for days without food, water, or rest.
Looking bored, Talon waved a Not necessary hand. He turned away from Aegeas and the nobles, settling his attention on the offerings.
Tensing, I sucked in a breath, resisting the urge to nervously smooth a hand down my thin blue gown that all acolytes wore.
I sensed more than saw the others in the line stiffen.
I could hear one whispering a prayer to Hellyne, begging Her to save him.
But he cut off as Talon began crossing to us with sure, controlled strides.
The male emanated a sense of perilous calm that was somewhat nerve-wracking. Up close, he looked even more impressive. Utterly invincible. Truly, the raw power of him was like nothing else.
My gut clenched as his gaze began to creep along the offerings, his scrutiny sharp and ruthless as a blade.
Talon’s eyes clashed with mine. Paused. Narrowed. And having his focus locked on me made my pulse rocket.
His brow dented as he took in my Sayer-eyes and otherwise very human appearance, but then his gaze sharpened in remembrance. Yes, he’d heard of my existence. He shot up a curious brow.
I swallowed. “If you’re hoping I can explain how a human can be a Sayer, your guess is as good as mine,” I told him, proud that my voice didn’t shake.
He looked to Aegeas for an answer.
The Archduke gave a stiff, clueless shrug. “We have found no way to make sense of it. As such, it likely means nothing at all.”
His mouth twisting, Talon gave me another once-over before sliding his gaze along the last few offerings. He then turned to his men and gave a tip of his chin.
At that, a nearby officiate clapped his hands once to get our attention. “Right, offerings, get moving,” he called out in a toneless voice. “The first seven will go in this wagon next to me. The rest of you will head to the one behind it.”
A breath stuttered out of me, my panic kicking up several notches.
A little mindlessly, I joined the people in front of me who were shuffling toward the first wagon in single file.
Some dragged their heels, ghost-white and shaking so hard it was a wonder their bones weren’t rattling.
I felt for them. Felt for the crowd members I could hear weeping.
Felt for people like Kemp and his mother.
It was at times like this I wondered if the Sovereigns were right; if the primordials had abandoned us on returning to the plane where souls went after death.
Many humans disagreed, feeling that the gods simply didn’t keep a close watch.
After all, time in their realm didn’t coincide with that of ours—a day for them could be a year to us.
If so, they wouldn’t be aware of every little thing that passed here no matter how frequently they looked in on us.
Surely, however, they would see the state of things and intervene if they cared to do so.
Passing the two magnificent Arions who were pulling the large, four-wheeled wagon, I skirted around the wooden contraption. Hesitating to hop onto it, I tossed one last look at the acolytes. In unison, they placed their fists against their heart.
My aunt mouthed, “Trust.”
I swallowed hard and hopped onto the wagon, hearing wood creak and groan. Dipping under the huge white cover, I stepped fully inside. The wagon had a bench either side of it. I took the one on which Kemp, Aurelia, and another human sat. The three godkin took the bench opposite us.
Two Laelaps jumped onto the back of the wagon, startling us all. An officiate then slammed a rail into place—not quite closing us in; we could easily clamber over it. But no one would attempt it while the Laelaps were there.
I gripped the edges of the bench as the wagon began to move. It did a U-turn and then picked up speed as the horses started to trot. This was it. We were officially leaving.
Silence fell, broken only by the creaking of wagon wheels and the clopping of hooves along the dirt path.
Soon, we were cutting through the woods beyond the borders of the settlement.
No birds tweeted, no flies buzzed, no small animals skittered around.
All animal and insect life had taken refuge, probably intimidated by both the Arions and the Laelaps.
The emissaries usually came to our settlement last, so the other settlements of each dominion would have already surrendered their offerings by now. We would be the last to arrive.
Low chuckles burst out of the godkin, who were talking amongst themselves.
It was no surprise that they were visibly excited.
The Sovereigns rewarded any godkin who joined the Black Tapestry, somehow able to break the curse cast by the primordials who—angered at their descendants for staging a mutiny—had ensured that the subsequent generations would be born with dormant power.
I could understand their enthusiasm. There had been times—more particularly when I was a small child—that I’d wished I could access the abilities typical of a Sayer. Personally, I didn’t understand why we were even born anymore, considering we were pretty much redundant.
Thinking on that led me to recalling the conversation I’d had with my aunt before being herded to the town square …
“Don’t be afraid of what’s coming,” she’d told me. “Hellyne wouldn’t send you to Deimos unless it’s where you need to be.”
I had eyed her uncertainly. “You really think that She had a hand in this?” I highly doubted it. But due to my being the first human Sayer, all the other acolytes believed that it ‘meant something.’
“Yes.” My aunt had given me a serious look. “And so should you. You’re an instrument of the gods, Anara. If they chose a mortal for a Sayer, they did so for a reason. I suspect you’ll find out what that reason is once you’re at Deimos. Trust in their plan.”
I wasn’t so sure that there was a plan. I didn’t see what value a human could have as a Sayer—I was too weak to act as a divine vessel, so I wouldn’t be able to physically serve the gods in any sense of the word. ‘Instrument’ would therefore be the last term that could be applied to me.
Kemp looked at me, still pale. “What do you think will happen to us? Really? I mean, what could the Sovereigns possibly do with so many new servants? Would we even be needed? Where would we stay?”
All good questions. I heard the one buried beneath them, one he hadn’t dared ask, one that plagued me just as hard …
Or are we, in truth, being taken to slaughter?