Chapter 5
The only time I’d ever worn cosmetics was for Harthon’s Citadel gathering, when he’d threatened his people with death after his men attacked me. Frannie and Felda had smeared a clear gloss on my cheeks, eyelashes, and lips, brightening my face.
I hadn’t enjoyed the experience, but now, I found myself wishing for a tub of that gloss as I braided my hair in the mirror. Exhaustion and stress painted a morose picture across my face, clearly evidencing the turmoil of the last several days.
Just a cabinet meeting, then sleep, I reminded myself.
Well, hopefully sleep. It could just be another night of nightmares.
A knock on my door yanked me from that pitiful thought.
I tied off the top of my black leather vest, which cinched tightly over a long-sleeved purple tunic, and went to the door.
Behind it was Harthon, garbed in the ebony ensemble I’d come to recognize as his “I’m your Princeps” attire. He’d clearly bathed.
Assuming he was here to lead me to the cabinet meeting, I silently stepped forward. But his palm landed on my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks. All I’d done was bring myself closer to him, so much so that I could smell the musk and leather mixed with an earthy soap clinging to his skin.
It was the same scent that’d curled around me when we’d slept in the same bed.
The same scent I’d gotten lost in when we’d kissed and my body had gone up in flames.
I peered up, all too aware of his size and the heat of his hand on my tunic. I felt every change in pressure as his fingers molded to my shoulder, securing his grip even though I’d already stopped walking.
Lips set in a grim line, he said, “Before we go, I need to ask you something.”
I waited for his question, knowing it wasn’t a request.
His hold remained as the tanned skin between his brows wrinkled. “With Koerlyn, you said you were restrained to a bed. Did he hurt you?” he asked softly.
I slowly blinked as I realized what he was asking. And he was asking it with such quiet intensity, like saying yes would send him into a rage. As if the thought of me, his “traitor,” being treated as a prisoner would make him raze Third to the ground.
But I’d never know if that was true.
“He never hurt me in that way.”
“Would you tell me if he had?”
“There’d be no advantage to lying. And whether or not he had wouldn’t make a difference in my purpose here or what you think of me.”
“No, it wouldn’t make a difference in your purpose,” he affirmed. He leaned closer, his chin nearly brushing the top of my head. For some reason, I didn’t feel the urge to step back. “But your response—the truth—matters, Etarla.”
Why?
What would he do if my answer was yes? Hug me, soothe me, hunt Koerlyn down this very moment—if he was still alive—and slaughter him?
Too tired to ask any of those questions, I said, “Koerlyn never touched me like that. He never showed interest, even when he took me that first time. It seems he prefers to torture me with the pain of others, not my own, for whatever reason.”
And I wasn’t sure which was worse.
While some of his stark intensity melted away, the tension in his frame remained. “Koerlyn has always preferred gory violence to other kinds. He also cares deeply about optics. He wouldn’t want to have a damaged magvis by his side.”
Physically damaged, anyway.
When I didn’t say that out loud, he exhaled and peeled his palm from my shoulder. It found another home on my lower back, guiding me down the hall beside him. Every step was a battle to separate my foot from the stone beneath it and keep my body upright.
“The cabinet will arrive shortly after us. Do you remember what to say?” he asked.
Recalling our discussion in the library, I nodded.
I hadn’t allowed Jac to take me to Koerlyn, but had been taken by hired mercenaries.
The lie didn’t reflect well on Harthon, nor on my abilities as an all-powerful being, but it was better than admitting I’d run away.
Koerlyn hadn’t had dinner with me, and I’d easily escaped on my own.
My time in Third had been entirely uneventful.
“The meeting shouldn’t be terribly long. If it seems to be going that way, I’ll have Stefano take you back once your part is finished. You need rest.”
“I’m fine.”
“Perhaps,” he acquiesced, but as we climbed a set of stairs and my breathing grew labored, he tacked on, “But if I tell you to leave, you will. And you will rest.”
“Because you also don’t want a damaged magvis by your side,” I concluded.
“No, I don’t. But for very different reasons than Koerlyn’s.”
* * *
The bodies still hung from the wall walk on the far side of the training grounds.
The four men who’d almost killed me in the kitchen were now mottled, gray ornaments against the Citadel’s stones, thankfully far enough away from the room’s window that I couldn’t make out any more details.
Harthon had left them there as a warning against future attacks on me.
Weeks later, he still hadn’t taken them down.
And he may very well be planning to add another body to the count.
Stefano had informed me that Jac was being held prisoner.
Harthon had yet to mete out his punishment—and there would be punishment.
Jac committed treason. Not only had he brought me to Koerlyn’s men, but he’d allowed his mercenaries to infiltrate the Citadel the night before.
Yet, if what he’d told me was true, he’d had no choice.
His family’s lives were at stake. He was a victim as much as he was an actor.
To see his skin turn the same shade of death, to see him reduced to a symbolic corpse, would be so terribly wrong.
A throat cleared. “Etarla, would you like to share what occurred?” Ana’s voice, a coaxing note to it, pulled me back into the space.
I surveyed the table and the wealthy Lords seated there, all watching me with a range of wariness, curiosity, and expectation.
And then there was Jonathan, who’d made his disdain for me plenty apparent at our last meeting and did the same now.
Wispy white strands were combed across his bald head, and gold chains threatened to crack his shriveled neck in two.
He regarded me as if I were an atrocity, lifting his nose with an air of condescension, waiting for my response.
It was enough to give life to a feeling besides exhaustion: anger.
Gripping onto that emotion, I looked Jonathan directly in the eyes, remembering how much my own unsettled him. The bob of his wrinkled, sagging throat suggested I’d accomplished my goal.
“I went for a ride outside the city walls, accompanied by one of Harthon’s men. Unfortunately, it was there we came upon a group of mercenaries disguised as villagers making a trek to the city center. They took me and poisoned me, transporting me to their Territory unconscious.”
“Excuse me, magvis, if I may.” The polite interruption came from a handsome, middle-aged man down the table—Harold, as I’d learned last time. “The Citadel was infiltrated the night before, and you were not to leave the city walls. Why were you riding?”
It was a fair question, one I’d anticipated. “The city center is too…stifling for my kind. Time in nature is like sustenance to me.”
Was that actually true for a magvis? I had no clue. But it sounded legitimate.
The Lord across from me, a man with dark hair and hawkish features, tilted his head. He was one of the only Lords to meet my gaze at our last meeting. This man didn’t fear me as Jonathan did, and I didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing.
“While that may be true, you could not have waited a few days to leave the city walls?” he asked.
I tipped my lips in an unbothered smile. “No. My urges are not governed by the same laws as humans. While I understood there were risks to being outside the walls, I was confident in my ability to leave Koerlyn, if required at a later time.”
“And how is it his men were able to take you? Considering your power, I suppose I’m…surprised you were so easily taken.”
Was it innocent curiosity or shrewd suspicion?
“I am powerful, yes. But my power is taxing, both on me and the surrounding area. It’s something to only be wielded when necessary. As I said, I was certain I could escape whenever needed, so I didn’t bother to reach for that power within me.”
“I’ve heard that the soldier you were with returned to the Citadel.” The Lord cocked his head. “Unharmed, apparently.”
“I ordered him to leave while I faced the men alone. I didn’t want any casualties.”
“I am surprised a high-ranking soldier wouldn’t have insisted on giving his life for a magvis.”
“He was following orders given by his superior,” Harthon interjected, saving me from having to create another fib. “That said, his failure,” he punctuated the word, “was unacceptable. He will face the consequences of this in the coming days.”
A euphemism for death.
He was going to kill Jac, who was as much a victim of Koerlyn’s threats as me. Unless, of course, I found some way to convince him otherwise.
Like that’s even possible.
The Lord didn’t challenge me further—outwardly, at least—but the inquisitive tip of his head and evaluation in his beady eyes suggested our responses hadn’t appeased him.
The magvis wouldn’t care. Doing my best to appear indifferent, I continued, “I woke up in an inn located in a small city. Koerlyn had bound me, thinking to contain me.” I tossed the Lords a self-assured smirk.
“He couldn’t, of course. I freed myself from the restraints and easily escaped once night fell. ”
Finished, I waited for questions.
Unsurprisingly, Jonathan was the first to break the silence. “That is all? You’re telling us that nothing occurred during your time with Koerlyn? That your escape was as simple as walking out a door?” Disbelief colored his voice.