Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Aleksander
Two more days passed in the Rivenholt Palace.
On the third, I dozed off late in the afternoon only to wake up with a start, sweat dripping from my skin, echoes of a nightmare pounding through my skull—the same, recurring one I’d told Nova about days ago. It had been a long time since it had visited me, and the haunting images seemed to be trying to make up for lost time, clawing through my thoughts with much more sharpness and clarity than usual.
These nightmares always affected me the same way: I staggered from the bed feeling completely drained of life, my magic roused, but scattered and weak, as though it had tried to fight off the dark dreams on my behalf.
I made my way to the washroom across the hall. As per usual, the violent stirrings of my mind and magic had left temporary cracks in my skin—though the golden energy glowing within them was fainter within the walls of this palace and its protections.
These nightmares had once been the only thing that caused such cracks…until Nova came along.
Why she had the same effect on me as my nightmares, I could only guess at.
Just one more piece of our relationship that I couldn’t make sense of.
Splashing cold water over my skin helped settle the exterior cracks, but my insides still felt as if they’d been wrung dry, all the life in me squeezed out.
I was determined not to let weakness win—especially not in this foreign court, where any wrong move might prove fatal—so I set off for the palace training grounds, where I could deal with things the way I often did: by battling my way through until I was too numb to think of pain or confusion or anything else.
Bastian had offered this training space to me freely, along with access to the armory next to it—a show of hospitality I suspected Nova had encouraged him to give. His desire to win her affection seemed to be greater than whatever suspicions he held toward me, and I planned to use that to my advantage for as long as I could get away with.
I grabbed a sword from the armory—a heavy claymore that required both hands to wield. Not my usual choice of weapon, but I needed something that would require focus rather than familiarity. Something to better distract myself with.
Without any hesitation, I set about carving up the practice dummies lining one end of the field. Occasionally, I tried fusing magic into the blade as well. It was such a broad, thick piece of steel that it required every ounce of my focus to pull off this trick. My nightmares were soon forgotten, lost among my growing exhaustion, as I’d hoped they would be—though the pounding headache I soon developed wasn’t much of an improvement.
I’d thought my cousin was being dramatic the other day, suggesting peeling the skin from his bones to rid himself of the cursed weight caused by the protective air in this palace. The longer I worked through my motions, though, the heavier and hotter my body seemed to become. Discarding my shirt and jacket helped somewhat, but I was still breathing harder than I should have been, and making far too many mistakes for my liking.
The open-air grounds were lined with burning torches, situated between the armory and a wing of the palace that had once been reserved for less prominent guests. The bedrooms in that wing had sat empty for ages, I’d been told, but the central parlor was still in regular use.
A small crowd of palace dwellers soon gathered on the balcony of this parlor, giving them a bird’s-eye view of the training area. Judging by their chatter and raucous laughter, they were thoroughly enjoying a round of after-dinner drinks.
I paid them little mind until some time had passed—until a hush fell over them, followed by a chorus of excited whispers.
Nova had just arrived, I realized. She ignored the whispering, pointing crowd—and me—taking up a spot on the opposite side of the training field. All of her attention was on readying the bow she had slung over her shoulder.
I watched her out of the corner of my eye for only a moment before returning to my own practice. She seemed focused—in need of some kind of disciplined distraction, same as I was—so I let her be. We merely existed in the same space for the better part of an hour. Day eased fully into night as we went through our motions, little sound between us save for the hacking and swishing of my blade and magic, occasionally punctuated by the echoing thud of her arrows hitting a target.
But I could feel her, even when I couldn’t see her or hear her.
Or, more specifically, I could feel her magic. For every spark of light that escaped me, I sensed one of her shadows rising, as if in answer.
Like everything else, it was different within the protective shell surrounding this area—more muted. Almost as if our powers were sentient enough to realize that there was no need for balancing or revival here, and so my magic’s desperate, clawing desire to get to hers was absent for the moment.
I still found myself drifting closer and closer to her side of the grounds.
A particularly bright surge of light rolled from my veins toward my sword. Cold shot through me a moment later as Nova’s shadows shifted in response. The back of my neck prickled, and I tilted my gaze in her direction to find her staring at me as she fought to catch her breath. Shadows framed her body, flaring out in shapes almost reminiscent of wings.
“It’s rude to stare,” I called to her.
She snorted at this, averting her eyes. “I told you before: My etiquette lessons were pointless. I’m afraid I’m destined to be hopelessly rude.”
A smile tugged at my lips as I sauntered closer, stopping a few feet away from her.
She still didn’t look at me as she said, “I do think there might be some social rules against parading around half-naked as a visitor in a foreign court, though.”
“Am I parading ?”
“You’ve drawn spectators,” she said drily, nodding toward the balcony above us—to where the crowd of onlookers had nearly doubled in size.
I lowered my gaze back to Nova. “Maybe they’re here to watch you?”
“Doubt it.”
Another glance from me caused a series of giggles to break out, followed by a shuffling of bodies as they all jostled for better positioning. The commotion seemed to fluster Nova, drawing a disgruntled noise from deep in her throat, and I couldn’t help the arrogance that curved my lips into a more complete smile.
“Do their stares make you jealous?”
“No.” The reply was quick, but her blush had been even quicker.
I beckoned her toward me. “Come here. Come practice magic with me.”
She hesitated.
“I bet we can make them jealous,” I said, dropping my voice to a low, conspiratorial tone.
“I don’t care about making other women jealous.”
“No? Manipulating emotions is at the center of all court life and politics. A useful skill for a future queen, in other words.”
“How noble.”
I chuckled. “Let me guess: You didn’t pay attention in your political classes, either.”
“Do they teach this sort of thing in classes?”
“It’s the underlying message in all the lessons where I’m from.”
“That’s concerning,” she said. But she was stepping closer, all the same, her gaze obviously fighting to stay fixed on mine and not trail lower.
“I can put my shirt back on if it helps you concentrate,” I offered.
“Don’t flatter yourself; I’m not that flustered by your bare chest.”
“I’ll have to find some other way to fluster you, then.”
“Keep talking,” she deadpanned, “and I’m sure it will happen. It usually does.”
I chuckled at this as she slipped off her cloak and tossed it next to my shirt and coat, revealing light, form-fitting leather armor underneath, before redoing the braid that hung nearly to her waist.
I looked her over as she went through these motions; I was searching for more bruises like the ones I’d noticed during our impromptu picnic the other day…but my gaze got caught on her throat—on a shadowy thread that encircled it before dipping lower, caressing the curves of her breasts.
“Staring is rude,” she informed me with a smirk.
“It is.” I returned her smirk. “You’re a fast learner.”
“One of the many things I pride myself on. Also? It’s good to know you are flustered by a mere chest.”
“ Flustered is a strong word.”
“Shall I keep removing articles of clothing and see if we can get you there?”
“Are we going to practice magic or bedroom antics?”
“I don’t need practice in the latter,” she said.
“It never hurts to learn new skills.”
“That’s true. And there’s plenty I could teach you, I’m sure.”
“I’d relish the opportunity,” I said, with a wink that caused another rush of color to spread across her cheeks.
She coughed. “Let’s stick to magic, for the moment.”
“If you insist.”
“I do,” she said under her breath—as if muttering a reminder to herself. With a wave of her hand, the shadowy threads around her dissipated. She walked to a nearby bench and laid her bow and quiver against it; I did the same with my sword.
“I’ve been speaking with some of the scholars in this palace, trying to make better sense of both our respective magics,” she said.
“And?”
“And a lot of our discussions have centered on how luxmancy is the opposite of necromancy—the opposite of what this realm thrives on. It’s why your magic proved so destructive here, before it met the balancing weight of mine. The area around us now is already somewhat stable, however, so I thought perhaps we could more safely experiment with our powers. Yours, in particular.”
“Experiment?”
She nodded. “I’ve been trying to better determine what the opposite of each of my own specific powers might be—what you might truly be capable of doing. Because something tells me you weren’t reaching the full potential of your magic back in Elarith. Who knows what parts of it those controlling Keeper bastards were hiding from you?” Her fists clenched and her face turned to the star-streaked sky, as if she was considering storming back into the Above and confronting those Keepers that very moment.
If anyone could have managed such a thing, I was beginning to think it would have been her.
She took a deep breath and continued more calmly: “It will take all facets of both our powers, I think, if we’re going to find a way to bring balance to both realms.”
I had my doubts, but still I said, “Go on. What sort of specifics did you have in mind?”
“Well, for example, I can possess things—overtake objects, magic…and even living beings, in theory. It involves projecting a small part of my soul and magic into a target and using it to control it. I wonder…can you do whatever the opposite of that would be? Maybe… un possess something? Pull the pieces of me back out of a given object?”
The idea was intriguing, if nothing else. “I can try.”
She took a small knife from the sheath hanging from her belt, quickly getting to work before either of us could second-guess her plan. She tossed the knife to the dirt and stretched her hand out over it. I caught a glimpse of what looked like a faint tendril of one of her shadows lifting from her palm and darting into the knife; it happened so quickly I would have missed it if I’d blinked.
She raised her hand, and the knife rose with it.
“I usually feel it like an extra hand grabbing hold of whatever I’m trying to possess,” she said. “I don’t know if thinking of that will be helpful to you, but…”
I circled her, examining the floating knife from all angles. Tentatively, I reached toward it. I could feel her essence twisting within the blade, and I focused on this—on its chill, its heaviness—as I let my own magic bleed forth and directed it, imagining it wrapping around her soul like a fist. When our two energies were indistinguishable from one another, I beckoned my fingers. The blade darkened—a glimpse of the shadowy power possessing it.
I beckoned again.
The knife dipped slightly.
Nova drew in a sharp breath.
But it was over just as quickly, my grasp on her essence slipping before I could truly catch hold of it.
Nova frowned, opening her mouth several times to speak but ultimately finding no words.
I attempted to mimic some of her usual optimism. “…That felt like the start of something, at least. Something that might have been stronger outside of this protected palace.”
“Maybe,” she agreed, distractedly, as she guided the floating knife back to the ground. “I wonder what else we could try?” She paced as she contemplated, her fingers tapping and twisting the multitude of bracelets running up her arm.
“You often reach for those bracelets when summoning magic, I’ve noticed.”
She paused mid-step. “They were made by Orin, the first at my parents’ insistence—they help channel my different powers.”
“Do you ever take them off?”
“It’s dangerous to take them off. I had a much harder time sorting out the chaotic energies inside of me—and keeping those things under control—before I started wearing the bracelets.”
“So…never, then?”
She shook her head.
Though she obviously tried to mask it, I’d seen the fear that flashed in her eyes at the question, and I realized…she was afraid of her own power.
Reasonable enough, given what that power had done on the night of her eighteenth birthday. And I could only guess at what sort of chaos she’d endured before that.
But it still bothered me, for some reason, that her caretakers had opted to bind her powers rather than embrace them. Maybe she’d had her share of controlling keepers, too—they were simply nicer than the ones I’d grown up with.
I didn’t say any of this out loud. But, as I watched her possess the knife and effortlessly pull it up into the air again, directing it toward the bench where our other weapons rested, I found myself wondering what sort of queen she might ultimately become, and where the true edge of her power lay.
“So, they all channel different strands of your magic?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said, considering each of the bracelets in turn before focusing on one woven from an assortment of colorful threads, tugging it away from her wrist for me to see. “This is the one that reacts whenever I have visions of the past. And if I can see the past, I wonder…”
“If I can see the opposite—the future?”
“It would be incredibly useful, wouldn’t it?”
“It would. Unfortunately, I’ve never experienced anything like that before.”
“And I’m still not particularly good at seeing the past,” she admitted—but her expression remained determined. “Maybe something simple, though. Maybe the knife again? I’ve seen glimpses of past things I’ve cut with it whenever I grasp it. So perhaps if you touch it…”
After a moment of deliberation, I walked to the bench and cautiously reached for the object in question. I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to see any part of what the future held for us—so it was almost a relief when nothing happened, regardless of how hard I squeezed the weapon.
“Nothing?”
I shrugged. “Afraid not.”
She looked defeated for half an instant before moving on. “Well, maybe we should work on perfecting what we’ve already had some success at.” With this, she pointed toward the knife and pulled it back into her command with a quick bit of concentration and a flourish of her wrist. “Take away my hold on it if you can,” she challenged.
I stepped forward to meet her.
Again and again, we practiced—her shadows sliding into the blade, taking control of it; my light following, attempting to draw the darkness back out, to break its hold.
The crowd above continued to watch, silently but intently, holding their breath as if waiting for something to go wrong. Nova occasionally threw them a haughty glance, but otherwise remained focused on the task at hand.
And, slowly, but surely, we began to see progress. She grew more confident, more swift in her movements. I nearly pulled her hold loose more than once—though she always managed to get control back. It felt like a representation of the time we’d spent together in this realm, in a way; a constant push and pull, the occasional breathless exchange of power and trust followed by frustration.
A long time passed before she showed signs of needing to stop—a hesitation, a sharp intake of air as her expression grew pained. Concern gripped me for an instant. The distraction proved costly; a slip of concentration from both of us, and the blade shot toward me, slicing my forearm as it came.
Nova let out a gasp. “Ah—sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s nothing.” I wrapped a hand around my arm to staunch the flow of blood while the crowd above grew restless, their whispers getting louder and louder.
Nova didn’t spare them another glance, but a muscle in her jaw twitched with what might have been a mixture of worry and irritation. “We should go inside and clean this up.”
“You want to get me away from my admirers and into a more private room, hm?”
“Keep talking,” she said, eyes narrowing, “and I will give you a matching scar on your other arm.”
I smiled at her threat, and her tone softened a bit as she added, “Actually, I just want to return your favor from the other day.” She ran a hand along her shoulder, which had made a full recovery since the incident in Erebos.
I hadn’t done much to aid in that recovery, aside from sending a weak bit of warm, soothing energy into the wound—not really a favor.
She was insistent, though. She walked to the pile of our clothing, slipping her own cloak back on before picking up my shirt and coat and tossing them to me. “You should probably cover up, anyway, before your admirers hurt themselves trying to get down here to treat your injuries.”
Chuckling, I pulled the loose shirt over my head, gingerly rolling up the sleeves, trying to avoid smearing it with blood. As soon as that was settled, Nova took hold of my hand and dragged me inside.
“You dragging me away like this looks very scandalous to my admirers, I’d imagine,” I said.
“It won’t be the first time people have started talking about me behind my back,” she replied, matter-of-factly.
We ended up in the washroom across from her bedchambers. In truth, there were very few eyes to witness our scandal ; the palace was quiet, its lights burning low—it was much later than I’d realized. Somewhere in the waves of shared power and magic between us, I’d lost track of time.
“This brings back fond memories,” I commented, settling onto the counter beside the sink and holding up my arm, allowing her to wash away the blood as she insisted on doing.
“Does it?”
“Of the time you stabbed me in the wrist after violently disturbing me from my cursed sleep.”
“Oh. Right. That… We got off to a rough start in this world, didn’t we?”
“Some might argue things are still a bit rough between us.”
She sighed. “It’s certainly more complicated than any relationship I’ve had with any man in the past.”
“…Relationship?”
She stiffened a bit, but she didn’t retract the statement. “What else do we call it, now that we’ve taken turns cleaning blood off one another?”
I stared at the ceiling, fighting the urge to wince as she wrapped a bandage around my arm. “We seem to have skipped over the more fun parts of a typical relationship .”
“What are you suggesting?”
“Nothing at all.”
She made an unconvinced noise deep in her throat.
“Is there something you would like me to suggest?” I asked.
Her hands grew clumsy. She chewed on her bottom lip as her eyes narrowed on the knot she was working on, clearly trying to stay focused on her task.
I leaned forward. “Because I have plenty of suggestions to make, if you’d like to hear them.”
She regarded me from underneath her lashes. “Is this an example of those courtly skills you spoke of earlier? Are you trying to manipulate my emotions right now?”
I smiled, taking her hand and drawing her in until she was wedged between my knees, her mouth tantalizingly close to mine.
“It’s a useful skill, as I said,” I replied, breathing warmth onto her lips with the words, sending a shiver racing through her that triggered one in me as well. “I’m merely doing my best to teach you.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes.”
I realized it in the exact moment I said it: I was lying.
It would have been the easier thing—the better thing—for this to all be just another courtly game we were playing. A lesson with a clear beginning and ending.
But that’s not what this was.
Her gaze fell to my lips. “Keep manipulating me, then.”
The confident purr of her voice sent a shock of desire straight through me. Desire that was treading entirely too close to need .
“Those are dangerous words,” I told her, cupping her jaw and tilting her lips closer to mine.
“I’m aware. And I don’t care.”
I traced the shell of her ear with my thumb. “Chaotically wicked, reckless thing,” I muttered.
“My nickname has gotten more elaborate, I see. No longer simply Chaos. ”
“And I’m holding myself back. I have a few other choice words I could use, if I wanted.”
Her reply came in a fluttering whisper. “Go on. Use them.”
I trailed my hand lower. Across her neck, her throat, the swell of her breasts. Down, and further down, taking a possessive hold on one of her hips. “Impetuous. Foolish. Infuriating.”
She leaned even closer. “Keep going.”
“Impossible.” I pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her lips. “Beautiful,” I said, dragging my mouth away.
The last word drew a smile from her. She backed up, and I moved as if attached to her by an invisible string, following her toward the hallway, stopping several times to catch her in my arms and crush my lips to hers once more.
We stumbled and kissed our way through the room, pressing up against walls and cabinets, knocking over baskets of linens, bottles of soaps and perfumes and other toiletries as we went.
The hallway seemed darker, narrower when we finally re-emerged, still caught up in each other, and stumbled toward her bedroom door. I stopped just short of throwing open that door and ravaging her across the threshold, instead pinning her against the wall beside it.
My lips hovered inches from hers. “You’re incredibly tempting, do you know that?”
“Is flustered still too strong of a word for what you feel when you look at me?”
“We’re well past flustered,” I braced one arm against the wall, hooking the other around her and pulling her hips flush with mine. She inhaled sharply as my hardened cock pressed between her legs, and I dropped my voice lower, bringing my mouth to her ear, as I asked, “See what you’ve done?”
She caught her breath. Her eyes burned into mine as I drew back just enough to better see her face. “Would you like me to apologize?” she asked.
“I think we both know it would be insincere.”
I leaned in to kiss the smirk from her lips in the same moment that loud, relatively close voices caught our attention.
She tried to act as though she didn’t hear them, but I saw the flicker of doubt in her eyes. I did my best to ignore it—because I wanted her.
I wanted her so fucking badly it was nearly driving me feral.
But I was also thinking of what came next. And I’d been listening to the chatter throughout the halls these past days. To the gossip. The questions. The doubts. Most of that doubt had nothing to do with her, and everything to do with me . Her people didn’t trust our closeness. And I knew how hard she was working to gain the trust and respect of the people in this palace, which made every kiss I stole from her feel like sabotage.
Reluctantly, I took a small step back.
The voices in the distance persisted. Nova’s gaze was on the door to her room. Slowly, she tilted her face to me, her bright eyes shining, her lips parting for words she couldn’t seem to get out.
Her meaning was obvious enough, even if she couldn’t find her voice.
Come inside with me.
Her tongue slid over her lips, and the temptation became a painful, physical thing. A beast ready to devour us whole.
There would be no coming back from giving into it.
If we walked through that door, I would lock it behind us. I would forget every person outside of it. Every kingdom in the Above and Below, every pact, every law. It would be my Chaos and no one else, and I would fuck her, claim her, fill her in every way possible. The depth of our magics’ bond was nothing compared to how deeply I wanted to bury myself inside of her. How badly I wanted my name on her lips, and her taste on mine.
She was breathing hard as she stared at me, awaiting my answer, shadows rolling like smoke across her skin.
The voices in the distance were close enough that I could make out some of their conversation, now.
But the voice in my head was far louder.
You have a duty to your kingdom and its people—to the whole world of the Above. Think twice before getting any closer to her.
There was no justifying it; getting closer would ruin at least one of us.
Probably both of us.
Utilizing every ounce of restraint I possessed, I planted a chaste kiss on her cheek and whispered, “Good night, Nova.”
A swirl of emotions crossed her face—frustration, disappointment, hints of regret. But, as she was so skilled at doing, she quickly slipped a cheerful mask on, covering every trace of whatever true feelings she might have been experiencing.
“Good night, Aleks.” She disappeared into her room without a backwards glance.
I stood like a fool outside of her closed door for far too long before I managed to make myself walk away.