Chapter 48
Dagen’s been smuggling slaves out of the kingdoms. That’s why Preysee and I spent the better part of the night underground —in what we’ve code-named “the linen room.”
Preysee wakes me from the side of my bed. I’m to meet Thaddeus before I begin my grueling three weeks of training.
Liha is not in my shield when I wake up and a fresh pang of hurt slices through my chest.
I dress myself and Preysee is quick to pull my hair into a high, slick bun on top of my head. She lines my eyes with a casual smear of kohl and coats my lashes before I meet Brunar and his guards outside my door.
I’m trailing my guards to breakfast when Dagen feathers in beside me.
My eyes slide over to where his spirit keeps in step with me, his smirk audible when he says, “Did you dream of me?”
I roll my eyes and lift my chin. “I did not.” I wish I would’ve, though. My nightmares had me in a cold sweat all night.
I slow my pace as we near the dining room, where Father is. “You don’t have to go alone,” he says.
Dae’s dark power seems to grow every time I see him. The thought of his power in my shield brings a tremble to my hands. I can barely deny Liha and she’s a fraction of what Dagen is.
“Can’t you follow without joining my shield?” I whisper.
“The only way I can go is if I’m hidden inside your shield, because I have a feeling he can sense me just like you can. Not to mention, he’s bonded to a god.”
I balk. “A god?”
“Do you know nothing of vessels? That’s what makes the First-Made.”
“Which god?”
“Not any god I want to know.”
“What god were you bonded to?”
“Brutal honesty?”
“Obviously,” I hiss.
“Frausa.”
I halt in the black hallway. “The goddess of deception?” I jab my finger through his cold pocket of air. “You are definitely not getting in my shield.”
He chuckles as I walk away, “Damned if I tell the truth, damned if I don’t.”
I storm off, leaving him outside of the dining room.
Father’s hard gaze snaps to me as soon as I enter. “Nizzara.”
Tarella does her best to ignore my existence, and Soriah’s place setting remains empty.
I ignore my father’s honed gaze like I might ignore a blade to my neck. “Will Mother be joining us shortly?”
His sharp eyes offer no flicker of emotion. “No. She will not.”
Tarella stiffens, her breathing suddenly seeming more careful.
“And why is that?”
The ever-present boiling rage begins to bubble.
Father sets his fork down as my plate is delivered. Sliced sausage on a gold disk, cart cow milk in a slim goblet, and a side of sauce in a boat. His unblinking eyes never leave my face.
“Your mother,” he says, a corner of his lips twitching and his words slurring, “is not feeling very well, I’m afraid.”
I paint my face to match his. Cold and unnerved. It sounds like she’s alive. But taking in Father’s floor-trembling power and large, muscled form . . . Whatever he”s done to her, she probably wishes she wasn’t.
“Where is she?”
A nudge comes on my shield and Liha slips in.
“Nizzara,” she hisses, sounding nearly drained of all zest. “You’re toeing a line you do not want to cross, not until you’re ready to face the repercussions. He does not have much control right now.”
Father wipes his mouth with his cloth napkin, his black orbs, devoid of all warmth, bore through me. “Somewhere she belongs.”
My sister has stopped eating, her gaze darting from father to me.
I curl my hands into fists, trying to defuse this rising temper and take my seat. I”m sitting across from a sister who loathes my existence, beside a father who punishes my existence, and in front of an accurate representation of my mother. What fuels my anger the most is that I care more for them than they ever will for me.
Father leans forward over the top of his untouched plate. “Your little Awom friend is quite the diligent worker. She scrubbed half the dungeon clean last night. Maybe she will take heed of my lesson and learn not to care for you, either.”
Nausea sweeps through me, every muscle in my sore body taut and aching for release.
“Think of your matches with Sorren,” Liha whispers, anxiety simmering through our bond.
“Why?” I snap.
“Because your father is twice what Sorren is. Defuse the situation and submit.”
“I don’t fucking submit, Liha.” Gold and black purges through the room, but I don’t touch it.
“I know, but today, you have to. He won’t start with you. He’ll start with Yisabell.”
I close my eyes, breathe through my nose, and think of Yisabell. It’s enough to curb the storm inside.
I break my father’s gaze and take a shaky drink of my milk before saying, “Very well.”
I feel, rather than see, his body loosen, dipping into his usual, I-rule-them-all pose. “Are you ready to face the higher-ranked competitors?”
I nod.
Liha dissolves from my shield.
A servant refills his goblet. “I’ll be leaving for business a lot more in the next few weeks. So, I’ve called my . . . advisor to assist in affairs here.”
I swallow. “You have an advisor?”
He tents his fingers above his plate. “I do.”
As if on cue, a figure detaches from the shadows of the room and glides forward. She’s tall with powerful shoulders and cheek bones, with glowing, silver tattoos writhing up her arms beneath leather straps. Just like Lekk, but where Lekk has a brightness about him, she has darkness.
A Dark Jaxelli.
Her black, chin-length hair is slicked back behind her head. Was she there this whole time?
“This is Halix. She will manage things in my absence.”
Dread rises in my chest. Whatever Father’s been doing on his trips . . . He’s been doing it in other realms.
Tarella’s voice slices into the air. “What business? Where?”
Halix’s dark, gray eyes bore into me while Father swirls the remains of his wine, drains his cup, then rises from the table. “Business that’s quite unsettling.”
Halix grins.
Father frowns. “I’ll be taking Sorren with me, but he’ll return periodically to prepare you for your duels.”
He strides to me and lowers himself until his face is beside my ear. He whispers, “One step out of line, and the bondslave will pay dearly.”
He casts his fur cape on with black inky smoke and strides for the exit before speaking over his shoulder, “If the business I’m attending to is as dire as reported, you’ll be securing an alliance with the second general upon my return.”
He evaporates into nothing as if he’s been sucked away into an invisible hole, just like my daggers do when I whisk them away to another dimension.
Tarella pushes up from the table, wide-eyed and fixated on the spot Father just vacated. Halix reaches for the mighty gray blade glowing at her back, evaluating Tarella with the lethal calm of a large cat before surveying the black walls and gem-studded tableware. Her gray eyes flick to me, then my arms, as if looking for something.
Halix has a presence like my father. Powerful and dark. When Tarella leaves, I follow.
My guards stand idly by to escort me down the hall toward Thaddeus’s wing. Dagen’s cool presence encases me as I scorch a trail down the black hall.
“A Dark Jaxelli in Mazzar’s court. Now I’ve seen everything.”
I’m too angry to trust my voice to be quiet, so I don’t respond, my mind still processing until we are passing the execution room.
I stop walking. “If I asked you to do something for me, would you?”
“Brutal honesty and now favors?” His voice is a luxurious calming velvet around my thoughts. “So demanding.”
I roll my eyes to hide the involuntary flutter his voice causes in my stomach. I’m waiting outside Thaddeus’s door when I whisper, “Will you check on Yisabell?”
His presence becomes heavier around me, stagnant and serious. “I already have.”
I knock on Thaddeus’s door. “And?”
“She is as okay as she can be.”