Chapter 44 Bryony
brYONY
MY BOOTS SLAP against the ground as I race through the woods.
Evander’s voice echoes through my head. Keep moving, vicious girl. Run until I tell you to stop.
Is it Alexios? I ask.
My brother. Now move your ass, Devaliant.
A tremor racks through me, but I shove it down and lock it away. I can’t fall apart now.
So I don’t slow, even though my muscles are burning. I grit my teeth and push myself harder, pumping my arms at my sides. Amara trained me to flee just in case.
Stop. Evander’s command is sharp. Make yourself small and hide. Don’t make a sound. Don’t even breathe.
I stagger to a halt, chest heaving as I scan for cover.
There—a tangle of massive roots in a hollow beneath a tree.
I wedge into the narrow space, trying to control my breathing and draw air into my burning lungs as shallowly as possible.
I listen hard to the distant shrieks of birds and the susurrus of wind through the branches. Every tiny noise seems magnified.
A twig snaps. Dead foliage crunches under a heavy boot.
And then a figure materializes out of the mist.
The Blade’s face resembles Evander’s—the severe slant of those dark brows, the sharp cut of his cheekbones, and a strong, square jaw.
But that’s where the similarities end. Because where Evander is all tawny skin and gilt feathers, his brother is monochrome.
Stark. His hair is white, skin pale. He’s like a sculpture given breath.
But it’s his eyes that make my stomach drop. They’re black—true black, like the unending abyss between stars, fathomless and cold. Primordial instinct gibbers at me to run run run as that stare sweeps the clearing.
The Blade steps forward, and the shadows bend and cling to him like a living shroud. His power saturates the air, seeking.
Looking for me.
Don’t think. Don’t feel. Don’t exist.
I reach for Evander—only to slam into an impenetrable psychic wall. Panic claws at my chest as I press my incorporeal fingers against it anyway.
And white-hot agony spears through my skull.
The wall is there for a reason. His tone is gentle but brooks no argument as he nudges me back. Alexios’ collar is cinching tight. Leave it be and stay hidden. Please.
That please destroys something in me. In that brief connection, I felt what Alexios is doing to him. That magical collar is crushing his throat, choking him, hurting him.
Because of me.
Fuck hiding. Fuck playing it safe.
I won’t leave him to handle this alone while I cower in the dirt like a frightened child.
Taking a deep breath, I step out to face the Blade. “Take me to Alexios.”
He turns his head slowly. The weight of that obsidian stare flays me open, and it takes every scrap of control not to look away. His eyes catch on the mark shimmering at my wrist.
Nothing. Not a word. Just those eyes boring into me. Then—
A ripple in the air, a sudden crushing pressure.
And he’s in my head.
I scream as his power tears through me. There’s no gentleness, no care as he rips into my mind, peeling me open, layer after layer. My thoughts are all exposed for his relentless perusal.
He finds where I keep my memories of Evander—every touch, every kiss, every moment we’ve shared in the dark.
Evander’s hands on my body.
His mouth on my skin.
His voice in my ear.
All my stupid, desperate, hopeless wanting.
My knees hit the dirt hard, but I barely feel it. Fracture lines spiderweb through my psyche. My temples pound with the overwhelming press of his magic spilling over me in wave after wave, threatening to tear me apart.
“Stop,” I gasp out. “Please!”
And miraculously, he withdraws, leaving me trembling. I slump forward, trying to remember how my lungs work. How I’m put together.
Why are you in pain? Evander’s voice. So focused on me, even as an Eternal’s collar strangles him.
The wall is there for a reason, remember?
The Blade looms over me with a gloved hand outstretched. There’s no warmth in that beautiful face, just the unspoken threat of what happens if I refuse.
Bile coats the back of my tongue, but I grasp his hand and let him wrench me upright. He sweeps me against his chest like I weigh nothing. The shadows around us writhe and stretch, forming those wings that aren’t really wings at all—just darkness given form—and then we’re airborne.
We touch down in the clearing minutes later.
A harsh gasp leaves me when I see Evander. He’s on his knees in the center of the glade, drenched in so much blood I can barely see skin. His flesh is knitting the remnants of serious injuries back together.
His head whips up. Bryony.
There’s so much agony packed into my name, but I lock my walls down until all I can hear is the roar of my pulse as I force myself to look at him.
Alexios. God of Storms.
Back in Vartena, I had grown up under the looming presence of his stone effigy every time I offered my blood on its altar. But that icon is a child’s fumbling rendition compared to the god standing before me.
He’s like a force of gravity threatening to subsume everything in its path.
His wings are resplendent in black and red, and his eyes are an intense, glowing scarlet.
A metal clasp holds his shoulder-length black hair back from his face.
I look for some flaw in those elegant features, in that warrior’s physique that’s every bit as strong as Evander’s, but I find nothing. He’s beautiful. Breathtaking, even.
“Don’t,” Evander snarls. “Whatever heroic bullshit you’re about to try—”
Alexios doesn’t even look his way. Just flicks his fingers like he’s brushing away a fly, and Evander’s words die in a wet gurgle. Fresh blood pours over his lips.
I dig my nails into my palms. “Stop.”
The Eternal of Asteria turns those burning eyes on me.
“I have to admire your nerve, if nothing else.” He crosses his arms. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to reveal dark tattoos in a flowing script on his forearms. “It’s almost impressive how thoroughly you’ve managed to fuck up the natural order of things. ”
My hands tremble. “You mean how you upended my life? Tore away my protection on a whim?”
“When your little zealots abandoned my temple for your gates, they damaged the Shroud near past mending.” His red eyes narrow, as if he’s imagining all the inventive ways he could make me hurt. “And now you’ve turned my Enforcer into your lapdog.”
“They weren’t my anything,” I snap. “Maybe if you weren’t an absent god, and if my uncle did his job as a ruler, they wouldn’t have been so desperate for someone who gave a shit about them.”
Something dark flashes across his face. I’ve hit a nerve.
“Then we’ll focus on what you did do, girl.
You killed an Anchor under my protection.
Even in your realm, that has consequences.
” He circles me, those massive wings flexing.
The tattoos on his arms pulse red. “Let’s make something clear.
Being the Wolf’s Chosen might save your life, but it won’t save his.
That wall he’s built to shield you from his pain?
I’ll tear it down until you feel everything I do to him.
A human might reconsider her choices after she feels her mate being flayed alive. ”
It’s suddenly hard to breathe around the knife in my chest as images flood my mind of Evander being tortured. Skinned. Bled. For me.
I force my emotions down. “What do you want from me?”
One dark brow arches. “Want?” A low, cruel laugh. “Oh, Princess. This isn’t about wants. The Wolf slaughtered my Claimed in Hellevig, and an Anchor’s been murdered against my wishes. The Accords demand payment in blood. The only question is whose—yours or his.”
The kind of damage an Eternal could take is unthinkable. Intolerable. Evander could endure centuries of pain if Alexios wanted.
“He did it for me,” I say. “I’ll take his punishment. All of it.”
Evander thrashes against his invisible bonds. “Don’t—”
Alexios flicks his fingers again as the invisible lash of his power wraps around Evander’s throat. Fresh blood spills from his nose and trickles down his lips. Despite the pain, his eyes never leave mine, pleading mixed with that familiar fury.
You reckless creature. His snarl slams into the walls I’ve built in my mind.
I refuse to let him in. Not now. If I feel what he’s feeling, I’ll unravel.
“Name your price.”
Alexios studies me, as inscrutable as the statues in his grand temple. “What would you sacrifice for him, Princess? Where’s your breaking point? A little pain? A lot of it?” He leans close enough that I can feel his breath on my cheek. “Are you willing to die for this?”
The silence stretches. I feel Bastien’s cold stare on me, assessing. Waiting for me to crack.
“I’d do anything,” I say firmly. “Everything.”
“Hmm. Your family has a reputation for saying one thing and doing another. So, when Amalthea Devaliant crawled to me begging for clemency mid-war, I had her demonstrate her sincerity. I’ll do you the same courtesy.
Three tests to prove your conviction. Complete them, and I’ll consider the Wolf’s slate wiped clean. ”
Bargain for Evander’s leash, a voice whispers in my head.
I glance at Bastien, but his expression gives nothing away. What?
His leash, Bastien repeats, his mental voice cold and flat. You’re his Chosen. You can demand that his full power be restored.
Why are you helping me?
Nothing. He’s gone from my mind as quickly as he entered.
I swallow, hoping I’m not falling into a trap. “That’s not enough.”
Alexios’ eyebrows shoot up, as if no one has ever dared to counteroffer.
“If I survive your tests,” I continue, “then his power should be unbound completely. That’s my right as his Chosen.”
“Bold little human,” Alexios murmurs, eyes narrowing.
“You can’t kill me directly, so I’m guessing this is your loophole. So I’ll take my chances.”
Some calculation clicks behind that burning stare. “I’ll accept that bargain.”
Insist on fair terms, Bastien’s silent voice instructs. Parameters within human tolerances, or there’s a distinct possibility this agreement will be worth less than the air you waste making it.
“It has to be something I can conceivably do,” I press, following Bastien’s advice. “The tests. I have to be able to succeed. I can’t win if it’s rigged.”
Alexios dips his head in acknowledgment. “Fine. Possible, but not easy. I’ll suppress the magical feedback you share with Evander as his Chosen. He stays in power-suppressing cuffs until you earn his release.”
A low growl of protest comes from Evander before he breaks off with a hiss of pain.
And that solidifies my resolve. The Wolf of Asteria doesn’t show weakness, not unless he’s in the kind of agony I can’t conceive of.
“Let’s seal it,” I say.
Alexios stretches out his hand. I hesitate, but out of the corner of my eye, Bastien gives me an imperceptible nod.
Slowly, I place my palm in Alexios’. He plucks a small blade from the sheath at his wrist, slices open my skin in a shallow cut, and repeats the motion on himself. He presses our wounds together.
Power pours into me, the formation of a new tether. A shining golden cuff forms around my wrist—the physical mark of our deal.
Alexios wrenches me forward until bare inches separate us. “Sealed in blood and magic, Bryony Devaliant. For the duration of this game, you’re mine.”
Then he releases me with a shove, turning back to Evander. “Get your Chosen to my palace, Wolf. And Blade, keep our boy on his best behavior. Her first test starts tomorrow.”