Chapter 30
I stared at the blue gem in my hands. The crumbled remains of the tiara sparkled over my knees and the floor.
“Syera?” Axel whispered from the door. “Soldiers are here.”
I dragged in an inhale. “How long was I like this?”
“All day. I didn’t go outside.”
And I was a shit guardian. “I’m sorry that I took so long. Thank you for listening.”
“I scratched a bit at the couch in my wolf form, then I was really hungry.”
I shook off more of my stiffness and stupor. “How hungry?”
“I don’t like olives, and the jar looked like it was olives. So I didn’t eat those.”
He ate through the entire larder. “Okay, well… if you’re hungry, you gotta eat.”
Axel inched the door wider. “My stomach hurts.”
No shit.
In the pause after, he said, “There are still soldiers here. Knocking.”
I jerked. “Yes, sorry. I hear them. I’ll go see what they want.”
Night had fallen, and I glanced down at my training attire before brushing away remnants of crumbled tiara. I tucked the blue gem in my boot, despite its size. I’d need to find a better place for it.
My head whirled, and more than anything, I had to speak with Tsan to straighten out and process what I’d witnessed. If my Magus power was stronger, I would have seen the full history of the Istg group. I’d seen enough to confirm some suspicions, but raised even more questions.
Only one part seemed clear. The Istg had celebrated in the dunes the night my father ascended the throne. I’d been born, and then Adeuto after.
They’d drawn a picture of a small boy in a box wearing a crown, and I had a sick feeling that my son was integral to ending the wrath curse.
As for the wrath curse… that was more than I could dive into right now.
I opened the door. “What is it?”
The soldier bowed. “Mate-intended, the king has summoned you.”
My gut flared.
Something was up. “All right. Let me get my son.”
“The king has ordered that his mother will care for the Luther boy while you attend the fortress.”
Who Carmine believed would obey his orders without question. I hadn’t left any letters or anything incriminating in the castle. There was the pipeline, but that was beyond tiny. A needle in a haystack. What was this about?
Had Athira finally cracked and confessed everything to Carmine?
“I will deliver Axel into Athira’s hands, then meet you in the courtyard,” I said.
The soldier was stone-faced. “The king instructed that you come immediately, and without detours, mate-intended.”
“Then by all means, send someone to fetch Athira here,” I said coolly. “I will not leave until my son is safely in her hands. We were attacked last night.”
The soldier glanced at the others, then drew himself tall and nodded. He barked an order at another demon, who darted off into the night.
I shut the door, then crouched by Axel who was waiting by the couch he had obliterated. A trail of food littered the floor between the couch and the larder.
I looked into his eyes and tapped his temple.
He frowned.
I touched my finger to my temple, then to his, and his brow cleared. He rested a hand on my heart, then stared into my eyes. I saw his trust. I saw his fear.
And in return, I thought of the comfort he’d brought me by being here and with me. The normalcy he’d given me while Adeuto was so far away. I thought of my fear that he would be harmed.
In a short time, I’d grown to care for the little Luther.
Can you hear me?
I jumped and fixed wide eyes on Axel.
Yes? he asked in my mind.
I nodded. Can you hear me too?
He winced. Quietly. But we only know each other a little.
His voice was faint, too, though clear.
I gathered my thoughts. Athira will be here soon to care for you. Carmine wants me at the castle.
Axel blanched.
Listen, I urged him. There isn’t much time.
This plan would only work if Athira hadn’t screwed me over. And I’d only set this plan in motion if I had no other choice. Hopefully I’d know before that if she was still on my side.
All I knew was that I had a bad fucking feeling about being summoned.
The Luther’s face grew serious, even as fear filled his eyes. He wasn’t the same child who’d arrived here.
I told him. If I send you a black jet of smoke, then this is what you must tell Athira.
She must portal to Tsan’s home, where she will find Tsan and Owu.
She must take them, and you, and herself to the Magus gates and go through to my sister.
You must only tell her this if I send you black smoke.
I must be sure that she is still on our side first.
Axel’s breaths quickened, but he recited back what I’d told him anyway. In his own way.
You are so strong, little Luther, I told him, then drew him in for a tight hug.
His hand found mine. Will you be okay?
The way my Magus alarm system was firing off, I couldn’t be sure. I’m powerful and resourceful. You don’t need to worry about me.
He squeezed my hand. Pack always worries about pack.
I held him until Athira burst through the door.
“What now?” she snapped.
“Ask your son,” I replied. “He’s summoned me to the fortress in the middle of the night.”
Her expression dropped, and I hoped that meant what I thought it meant. She was too smart to trust on that alone, though.
“Look after my chosen son, Athira. If harm comes to him, you can expect it to come to you.”
She sneered, “Says the demon summoned by the king in the middle of the night. He should have been rid of you long ago.”
The soldiers behind her fidgeted, and some exchanged smirks.
I winked at Axel, then strode through the door.
There wasn’t a palanquin this time. The red soldier who addressed me earlier opened a portal as I neared. Through the portal, I saw the ballroom.
I walked through.
The portal shut behind me in a wave of sulfur, and I sensed Carmine behind me. I turned to find him sitting in the throne atop the raised platform.
That was where we sat, utterly bored, and watched the other demons dance around us.
“What’s the matter?” I asked, walking forward.
He looked up, and I halted at the ice in his eyes.
Not good.
“Mate,” he said, and icicles dripped from each word.
“Something has happened,” I said. “What’s wrong?”
A sinister smirk spread on his face. I’d never seen him this deep in his monster.
And perhaps from what I’d seen of the tiara’s past, I could suppose this wasn’t him, but the wrath curse.
Except I hadn’t had time to reflect on that.
Just because Utyrth had fallen under Tyran’s magic, didn’t mean Carmine had.
White magic did fill him, but he had control over that. I’d seen him control it time and again. Was I, in the space of five minutes, meant to dismiss the damage that one hundred years in a dungeon had done to this demon? And just excuse it for a magic that had been worked thousands of years ago?
I couldn’t.
Because as far as I could tell, two types of white magic existed. Only one was bad. And just because that magic had controlled others—and killed Tiers winners—didn’t mean that Carmine was a victim. I had seen him enjoy brutality again and again. To show no remorse.
One trip to the past wasn’t going to undo five years of seeing what he was.
Especially with only five minutes having passed since I watched the past unfold.
And especially when my gut was flipping and churning all kinds of warning at the ice in Carmine’s eyes.
“I conducted a search of the fortress. I located many Magus devices. Some of which I was unable to deactivate. Most seem built to relay information, though others are traps that await detonation at the right moment.”
I lifted a shoulder. “So you want my help to figure them out?”
His smirk widened.
I frowned. “Why are you acting strangely?”
“Am I? What is the word you use? Sorry. I’ll show you the first one.”
He approached, and I tried to keep relaxed as he placed a hand on the small of my back to lead me out of the ballroom.
We stopped at the entrance to the fortress.
“Up in that corner.” I’d sensed it straightaway. While I wouldn’t usually offer that information, it was clear that he’d known about the charm already.
“Indeed,” Carmine sneered.
I stretched my Magus magic upward and floated tendrils to hover over the charm.
“I was never great at deactivating these things. It’s a tracker and a bomb.
That’s the intent. Which is easy to sense with my affinity.
This was made by a three-affinity Magus.
I can’t deactivate it. I think the best bet is to wall it off somehow. I don’t think that will set it off.”
Sorry, Tempest. But he’d already known about it.
If they were watching, then I wanted them to know trouble was afoot. “Are you going to tell me what the matter is yet?”
He turned his face, and the smirk was back. A seriously unhinged smirk that I really hoped the alliance could see. “The matter, mate? Why would you think that?”
“Because of how you’re behaving.”
Carmine’s smirk dropped, and pure murder was left on his face. My chest rose and fell, and when he offered his arm, I curled my shaking fingers around his fist without further question.
“Next,” he hissed.
He led me to the king’s quarters, and we entered my least favorite room in the fortress—one I’d managed to avoid for some time.
A leather couch was set before a fireplace that I’d never seen lit. And a picture hung over the mantel—one I hated.
One, as I’d learned, that Tyran had painted.
In the picture, a man looked into a mirror and a monster snarled back at him. My heart thudded as I stared at the picture as if for the first time. And I remembered all the times that Carmine had sat on this couch and gazed at the picture, for hours on end.
I remembered Carmine’s odd happiness when I’d painted a rendition of this artwork in his bedroom—except instead of a monstrous reflection, I’d painted a little boy.
I’d been calling him a child at the time.
“You’ve always hated that picture,” he said.
I nodded.
“It was always my favorite.”