31. Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-One
F or hours, I toss and turn in a fitful sleep.
Seeing as it’s the first night I’ve slept in a proper bed in weeks, one would have thought sleep would claim me without resistance. But alas, that is not the case tonight.
Letting out a forceful exhale, I shift myself upright and attempt to rub the weariness from my eyes. I allow my gaze to wander, my focus landing on Asheros.
He hasn’t moved once since he first closed his eyes, his chest rising and falling evenly with each breath. He lies on his back, one hand outstretched toward me. Normally, he’s at least semi-conscious each time I move throughout the night— somehow, an even lighter sleeper than me—but at the moment, I doubt much would disturb him.
Though he’s unconscious, lingering stress works at his mouth, his eyes moving rapidly beneath his eyelids. Pressing my lips together, I brush tendrils of white-blond hair back off his face. His body relaxes, seemingly comforted by my touch, even in sleep.
A dull ache sets into my chest.
He’s been just as worried as I am. Just as anxious. Though we may express it differently, we’ve both struggled to contain our raging emotions. Not to mention the bond. Now it’s not just our own feelings individually that bear down on us, but the feelings of the other person, too. His fear, worry, and unease only add to mine and vice versa.
With the bond in place, our highs reach new, wonderful heights.
But so do our lows.
Tilting my head down, I sigh and touch the heel of my palm to my forehead. If I haven’t fallen asleep yet, I doubt staying here will do me any good. There’s only one thing I know that will help me ease the tension.
Carefully, I peel the blankets back and swing my legs from the mattress. Placing my feet on the floor, I tiptoe to the corner of the room and tug on my boots. Picking up my short swords safely tucked into their sheaths, I secure them to my hips and slip from the room.
Navigating through the dark halls, I let muscle memory lead me down a path I’ve walked many times. It’s only once I emerge from the manor, into the fresh, nighttime air, that I lean my head back to the stars and take a breath, filling my lungs.
I’ve always loved the mountain air here. The crispness of it. The way it feels on my tongue. The feeling of nourishment it leaves within me after every inhale. It’s one of the few things I’d missed about home when I first relocated to Keuron.
Moving across the manor grounds, I scan the area for my target, thanking the gods when I see that Mother hasn’t done away with it. Approaching my wooden training dummy—if one can call a roughly fae-sized cross of wooden planks to be a training dummy, I withdraw my blades from their sheaths.
When I’d started to consider my calling as a warrior, I’d asked my father for something to train with. This dummy was only ever meant to be a temporary solution, but I’d taken such a liking to it that I’d insisted on keeping it. Into my pre-teen years, I’d developed many aliases for this sorry heap of wood. An evil troll one sparring session, or a cold-hearted stone giant the other. My imagination was endless.
Now, I visualize my sources of stress, and project them onto the dummy. Slashing my blades, I swipe steel across the wood, careful not to sever the thing in half. It won’t be of much use to me if I go and break it. Still, I go at it with all I have. After all, it has persisted this long. It’s probably seen worse, anyhow.
I jab and side-step and bring my swords straight down from the top. The dummy absorbs each of my blows like a good sport, and I increase my speed until I’m panting. Pushing myself harder and harder and harder still, I repeat this dance until my core is burning from the exertion.
Stabbing both of my swords into the ground, so they stand upright, I place my hands on my hips to even out my breathing. Perhaps now that I’ve thoroughly exhausted myself, I’ll be able to rest for an hour, maybe two if I’m lucky, before the sun rises.
A presence sends shivers tingling down my spine.
Adrenaline surges through me, my blood pounding in my ears. Swiftly, I clasp the hilts of my blades and raise them in front of my chest, assuming a defensive stance. Turning my back to the wooden dummy, I orient myself toward the unwelcome visitor.
Red-eyes shine in the moonlight. Without his hood, Tanyl’s head of rich brown hair, so much like Myrdin’s, comes into view. His ebony-feathered wings spread from his back, massive in size.
I clench my jaw, dread coiling in my stomach.
Stalking me slowly like a beast trailing its prey, Tanyl takes another step forward, stopping about ten to fifteen paces before from me.
“You,” I breathe, taking in the sight before me. “I knew it.”
“Me?” Tanyl asks, a bit too innocently. “My, my, whatever do you mean? ”
“Drop the act,” I snarl, baring my teeth. “I know what you’re trying to do.”
The mask falls from his expression instantly, a harsh, disturbing shift. “Finally. It has been exhausting having to play the part of the meek, soft-spoken fae lord.”
“Why go through all this effort? Killing the king. Starting a war?” I blurt out, “Is it because of Azalinah’s death?”
The late High King’s curse hadn’t just poisoned the land. It brought death to his beloved wife, Azalinah, Tanyl’s sister.
“No.” Tanyl’s mouth curves with unsettling rage, like the ungodly villains from one of my father’s stories. “For that, I blame the disgraced goddess whose curse took her life.”
My eyes widen, something still settling into my bones. “Goddess?”
It was a goddess that cursed Vorr all those years ago?
But Tanyl ignores me. “Noble fae are blinded by their arrogance, unable to see the truth. We hold no power in this world. Long before my stupid brother-in-law invoked the wrath of a goddess, I learned how to obtain true power. By earning the favor of any god that would listen.” A self-satisfied smirk spreads across his mouth. “Alleviana has given me that power.”
It takes me a moment to recognize that name. I’d encountered it only once during my studies, and I’m slow to make the connection.
But when I do, my blood runs cold.
Alleviana .
The Old Goddess of Avarice and Conquest. The queen of the Old Gods, and the cruelest of them all.
“If you haven’t realized by now that she’s only using you as a means to an end,” I scoff with pretend bravado, “then you truly are stupider than I thought.”
“You have fallen victim to the lies taught to you by your parents.” Tanyl’s tone is grating, sharp with abhorrence. “They are afraid of what they cannot control, and so they lock it away, instead of learning how to use it to their own advantage.”
He angles his head to me, eyes wild. “But I have. And in time, they will all cower before the power I now possess.” He parts his lips and unfurls his impressive wings. “You almost ruined everything,” he continues, taking on a more sing-song tone. “Meeting with your mother, letting her see that you are alive and well. You have given me more work to do, you see?” He inhales through his nose, leaning his head back when he does. “But alas, I have found a way to ensure that my plans remain intact.”
Nausea roils in my abdomen. Sweat slicks my palms. “Your plans?”
His smile makes my blood run cold. “I suppose I can share some details with you since you have shaped them a great deal.”
Gods, I don’t like the sound of that.
Fear colors my thoughts, imploring me to run. To get as far away from him as I can.
“You know, you are much smarter than I had ever given you credit for. You proved yourself to be quite the thorn in my side, thwarting my plans to take out the girl in Esvelon, and then surprising me at Lyndhaven. Quite the feat, I should say.”
Gods-damn me. I should run. I should fight. I should do something. But for some reason, my traitorous feet remain locked in place.
“And now, forcing my hand…” He clicks his tongue. “Thanks to you, there is too much at stake to delay any longer.”
My blood boils. I knew I heard something in the hallway last night. “It was you outside the door, eavesdropping.”
“You should have stayed away, Lymseia. You should have stayed at High Keep, behind the castle walls. At Lyndhaven, you were duly warned. But no,” Tanyl drawls, red-eyes beginning to emit an unholy glow. “You had to play the hero, the noble captain willing to risk it all to defend her king.”
“And hide, like a coward?” I spit, leaning into the tough act I’m playing. A tingling, prickly feeling lines my insides like a thousand tiny needles. “I think not.”
“So brash,” he sneers as if I’m an unworthy insect beneath his boot. “Perhaps it is good that you are the second-born. You are much too unruly for Court politics.”
“Yes, well, that unruliness you despise has made me quite the force to be reckoned with,” I say, raising my short swords. “And you’ll regret crossing paths with me.”
“Oh, I doubt that.” Tanyl’s focus closes in on me, his voice dripping with sinister certainty. “You see, I have you right where I want you. Alone. Defenseless. ”
I snort, gripping my swords. “Clearly, you’re blind and an idiot. An unfortunate combination.”
“You have no idea what it is you are up against,” Tanyl seethes with a curl of his mouth. “But no matter, I am more than obliged to show you just how ignorant you truly are.”
He raises his hands, fingers outstretched, and I take a step back. “How fitting is it, that you have come to die in the place where your life began.”
Panic blares, searing each of my nerve-endings. My breathing quickens, breaths turning shallow. I shift to raise my swords but feel as though I’ve been trapped in ice. My blades fall from my hands, landing on the ground by my feet. Darkness seeps into my vision, clouding my mind.
I try to shake away the sensation, but even my head refuses to obey.
“Just think of the chaos your death will cause,” Tanyl says, drawing out the words. “The second-born lady of the Steel Court, missing for months with no news?” He pauses, the glow of his eyes a vibrant, blood red, similarly colored power vibrating beneath the skin of his palms. “Only to be found dead.”
Unable to support my weight, my legs turn to jelly. I fall backward, and my back slams to the ground. Hard. It knocks the wind out of me, but there’s not much I can do to remedy it.
There’s not much I can do at all.
I can’t even speak .
I’m completely, utterly helpless.
“Die slowly, little Wynterliff,” Tanyl says, and it’s the last thing I hear before my consciousness fades. “For the kindling has been gathered, and your death will be the spark that ignites my war.”