Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
Malakai
The first legion reached their outpost along the eastern side of the mountains, fortifying the borders.
The smallest trickle of success worked through me.
Though it had really been Danya and Lyria’s execution with Ophelia’s strategizing before she left, I’d been present for the decisions since then, and I hadn’t fucked it up.
“I didn’t realize you had such an instinct for battle,” Cypherion commented to Lyria after she wrapped up her report with the Master of Weapons.
We’d known Lyria had a number of personal victories against the Engrossians during the war—which were causing harsh prejudice between herself and Barrett and Dax—but her knowledge stretched far beyond physical skill, tactical planning surpassing even Cyph’s. “Tolek never mentioned.”
Tension snapped through the room, from where Vale, Jezebel, and Erista conversed beside Cyph all the way to Barrett and Dax across the table.
Guilt over how I’d treated my friend rose in my throat, tasted acidic.
I may have been angry, but as days passed and my head cleared, I was seeing that it was possible I’d overreacted.
Of us all, Cypherion was the only one who freely used Tolek’s name, as if he was only out for a stroll and would return shortly.
“You can learn a lot in a year if you pay attention.” The Vincienzo heir tossed her hair behind her shoulder. The smirk she gave was so much like her brother’s, it twisted my gut. “They tried to keep me off the front lines because I was young, but I didn’t listen.”
“Lyria is a sharp fighter and a sharper mind,” Danya added with a wide smile.
“And what did you learn from the war?” I asked Mila where she stood beside Lyria, scrutinizing the maps we had spread before us. “Were you on the front lines, as well?”
Lyria stiffened, but Mila twirled her tight golden cuffs around her wrists.
“Briefly,” she said, voice low. I leaned in to capture her words. “But I learned that not everything ends with a treaty.”
The comment shot through me like a spear to the heart, tearing out the other side. Mila’s ice-blue eyes bored into mine, but there wasn’t venom in them. If I wasn’t mistaken, I thought it was understanding.
I looked back to the maps, rolling the tension from my shoulders.
We’d gone over the numbers repeatedly, traced the routes through the mountains and the alternate ones the generals would lead if there was an obstacle. There were numerous fallback plans, and a last resort to retreat entirely and fortify Damenal if needed.
This could work.
But there were still key factors we didn’t know. The most important of all—Kakias’s motivations.
“Could this all truly be a ploy for control of the mountains?” I mused, dragging my fingers across the peaks printed on the map.
“I don’t think that’s it,” Barrett claimed, stepping up beside me. Lyria and Mila went still as he grabbed my wrist, moving my hand to a region in the far southwest reaches of Gallantia. The Dark Valleys. “You forget that we have power, too.”
The swirling whirlpools of tar had resided in those valleys since the time of the Angels. Foreboding corruption swarmed within the confines of their shores.
“But that’s dark magic.” My eyes flicked to the Engrossian heir. “It’s unstable. The only usable power lies in the range.” I pointed at the mountains again.
“That’s where your Mystique education is lacking, dear brother.
The pools in the Dark Valleys don’t only contain magic.
They aren’t cases or guards the way your mountains are, channeling ether into the world and warriors.
” He was right. Dark power couldn’t imbue us in the same way we channeled strength and agility from the raw source within the range.
But those pools weren’t to be used, so why did it matter?
“The pools feed on power,” Barrett finished, jaw clenched.
“How?” Cyph asked.
“After being contained for so long, the magic has germinated. They’ve become sentient.” The prince ran a hand through his hair. “They barter with power.”
The thought of a structure of the land developing a humanoid mind and the skill to wield it…cold terror gripped my gut.
“It’s forbidden by Bant himself to go near the pools unless you’re attaining your scars after the Endeavourance—our version of your Undertaking,” Dax added, placing a hand around Barrett’s waist. The prince leaned into him instinctually, the tension in his jaw slacking.
“Engrossians are raised on tales of the pools taking lives. We’re warned to stay away except on those rare circumstances. ”
“Banning something doesn’t always keep warriors from what they want.” I thought of my closest friends diving into the suspended Undertaking and the events that decision set in motion. “It often makes it more attractive.”
Dax clarified, “After completing the Endeavourance, some Engrossians are stationed at posts around the valleys to guard them. To keep others out. No one gets in.”
My eyes met Barrett’s, and we both filled in the unsaid words. No one without the queen’s jurisdiction gets in.
“How do the pools work?” I asked the heir and his consort.
The two exchanged grimaces, as if sharing this was against their laws, but whatever the prince saw in his consort’s eyes must have been convincing. Dax’s hand tightened on Barrett’s waist.
“The pools’ magic is stronger than any other source because it’s been isolated.
It’s grown—thrived. Whatever exists in there feeds off of the dire, carnal need in warriors to make deals with them.
The warrior sacrifices something to them.
In exchange, they’re given a kernel of the pools’ power. Even a drop is said to be enthralling.”
My breath caught in my throat.
“Consuming,” Dax muttered, looking at the map but not truly seeing. “It ruins you. It’s why no one can go near.”
Magic that changes you. That takes a sacrifice and plants something in the one desperate enough. Rots their soul, their entire being. I saw my father’s black eyes and sneer rabid with vengeance. Orders to kill, maim, torture…and I wondered—
No. I couldn’t let myself hope for that explanation. I clenched my eyes, willed the thudding of my caged heart to slow, and counted to five.
Then, I banished the thought and focused on Barrett’s drawn expression.
“Do you think your mother…”
“I once thought there was no chance she’d be so reckless.” He swallowed, his voice grim. “But now…I’m not sure.”
I recognized the clenched line of his jaw, the avoidance of his eyes.
Misplaced guilt. For the first time, I stopped to consider that the Engrossian heir had taken on the burden of his mother’s decisions as I had those of my father.
They left us both with an undeserved weight we felt responsible to amend.
If Kakias had made a deal using dark magic, we were outmatched in worse ways than we’d imagined.
“Do you know what it would be?” I asked.
“No…I don’t even know when it would have happened. There are no marked changes in her countenance that I can recall. She’s always been cold, driven by bloodthirsty ambition.”
Barrett and Dax had another moment of silent communication, and the heir hung his head.
“I think…” He sighed. “Bant’s cock, Ophelia is going to kill me for what I’m about to say.”
Everyone in the room perked up at her name.
“Why?” Jezebel’s voice dripped with cold threat.
Nerves sent my heart pounding against my ribs.
“Because she knows more than she’s told you all, and now I have to be the one to fucking reveal her secret.
” He leaned forward, bracing himself on his fists.
“The reason I came to Damenal was because of the moving troops and the discovery of Mystique lore in my mother’s possession.
But there was more. My mother has an alarming interest in Ophelia. ”
“We knew that, though.” My shoulders sagged. “Kakias wanted her before the war, wanted her for you. When I was imprisoned, she was originally planning to have you two take the Revered’s power. Until…”
What changed her mind? Something made her decide to kill Ophelia in that cavern instead. I wracked my brain for any mention of it.
“Until she decided Ophelia was a bigger threat alive,” Barrett finished my thought. “I don’t know what, but there is some reason she needs Ophelia dead, and I think it ties back to the lore she’s gathered on your people. She has a plan bigger than any of us can imagine.”
Distantly, I heard Jezebel and Cypherion questioning the Engrossians about the deals made with the pools and how long Ophelia had known of Kakias’s twisted interest in her, but I wasn’t listening to any of the answers. My mind spun with all the information laid before us.
It connected—all of it did. The dark power, the obsession with Ophelia, Kakias’s motivations. It was all here, poured between her sacrifices, but—
“By the fucking Spirits.”
I tore from the room before anyone could answer and ran flat out for my father’s study. The shining palace walls blurred around me, my heartbeat pounding a desperate rhythm.
Mystlight flared to life when I threw open the doors. Shattered glass and scraps of statues crunched beneath my boots.
I didn’t stop when everyone hounded me. They gathered in the doorway, but no one commented on the state of the room. Not as I prowled among the wreckage, searching.
There. Stained brown with long-dried liquor and lying face up, as if waiting for me to find it.
Papers scribbled with my father’s hand, theories smudged in corners and drawings I didn’t understand.
But it was here.
I slumped to my knees, ignoring the lump his handwriting brought to my throat and scanning the documents.
One word stood out: Sacrifice?
It was circled, darkened as if traced over multiple times. I could picture him hunched over the desk, worrying at the end of his pen, dragging his hands through his hair as he struggled to piece it all together the way I did now.