Chapter 14 The Deal
The Deal
The Eight of Swords represents confinement, restriction, and potential self-sabotage. But in its reverse form, it is representative of possibilities and freedom from one’s problems.
AIR SIZZLES BETWEEN US, heated by his unbreaking attention, before it trails down my face, settling on my lips.
He thinks I’m the key to this impossible dream?
Or a tool to be used? He tilts his head as though he heard that, but my mental wards feel secure, and he moves a rook piece, oddly lining himself up for me to take it.
“These objects are considered legends, fables, stories to inspire.” He gestures vaguely to the tomes stacked on his desk. “But there are hints of them throughout history if you know where to look.”
I sit back surveying him. “So, go get them, Prince. You also have a World Arcana, if I recall.”
“And if I recall, you held the crown in the vision. That vision, Rune … peace between druids, seraphs, and elves must be won. King Altair won’t be the one to bring it to Arcadia.
But I could. With you.” Draven’s eyes hook mine.
“These objects are how I get power and you get your family. How we both get vengeance against the immortals who’ve held it all for too long.
This is the only chance I have of becoming king of Arcadia, and that you have of getting your family back. ”
I slouch back in the chair, scoffing. Four legendary items and a pretend betrothal, but my family returned to me.
He dangles power wrapped in promises, and I can’t help but reach for them.
But I need to be cautious. If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.
Folding my hands in my lap, I meet his indigo eyes and concede a nod.
“What objects could bring all four kingdoms to heel?” I ask, finally.
A grin flashes across his face before he turns earnest. “In the mortal lands, there’s an enchanted grail. It’s said that a drink from this cup will reveal your truest self and break all bonds. Oathbreaker, cleaver of spells. Presumably made to spare mortals from immortal bonds and ties.”
“Any pledges?” I ask, heart racing.
“You’d no longer be sworn to my father. You could find your family, break their bonds, too. They can possibly be transformed, returned to their mortal forms.” The light from the fire reflects in his eyes, bright and brilliant and hellish, the blue all but waned away.
“Why would you want such a power?” My wants for it are simple, plain as he outlined, but this is an item he already desires for himself.
“We can serve no one but ourselves if we’re to succeed.” That includes his own father. Would he strike against King Silas if it came to it? Is that guilt gathering in his eyes? Or am I assuming too much of someone who longs for power?
“And the other items?”
“In the seraph kingdom, there’s a sword,” he says.
“Lightbringer. The blade is considered cursed, but it disappeared during the Great War and is rumored to be hidden in a temple across their borders. I can’t say it’s there for certain, but it’s said to contain the trapped soul of a fallen god.
Whoever wields it will control a power that could bring all of Arcadia to heel.
One that could kill even Altair, who is not just a seraph but a demigod. ”
The fact Draven protected me from that kind of danger at all leaves me stunned. I refocus on the mysterious sword, possibly the best tool in our arsenal. “What kind of power does it contain?”
“I don’t know. But it’s killed a demigod before.
” Draven rolls his shoulder, fiddling with that magic ring of his, and I wonder if it burns.
“Somewhere in Sedah there’s also a wand that could summon an army of hells’ finest, splitting open the world, capable of portaling entire armies.
As for the elves … they have a ring so powerful that it can be used to bend others’ wills.
Imagine being able to erase hatred from every mind.
Or at least make them lay down their swords? ”
“Cup, sword, wand, ring. Those are the suites of the Minor Arcana.”
“Truth masking as legend. They’re also the symbols on our flags.” Draven points to his map. “Our ancestors have been crying out for the items to be found, brought together. But we’d rather pretend they’re fairy tales than try for peace.”
“They could be fairy tales, Draven. A hope sprung from your own ambition. I’d rather not partake in a useless treasure hunt.” Pass. Hard fucking pass on this whole childish endeavor.
His eyes narrow.
“I am not one for flights of fancy, Rune. There’s proof of each of them, and plenty of it—volumes documenting their presence in every major event since the birth of Arcadia.
” Draven grabs a book, flipping it open to a marked page before thrusting it in front of me.
In the beautifully illustrated plate of a great battle, a seraph is depicted riding a winged lion and holding a sword rendered entirely in gold foil.
“Lightbringer at the Battle of the Bastion, a seraph civil war not even five centuries ago, where Altair’s grandfather came into power.
” He searches another pile and spreads another open book atop the first, pointing at a detailed rendering of a ring, the mechanics of it theorized, showing it changing sizes on its own.
“This book is only three centuries old, and it specifically says these drawings are from a visual inspection of the ring. There is evidence.”
“Why would immortals even allow these items to exist?” It seems too dangerous. If one person were to gather all of it, they’d be equal to a god.
“Once created, well … who destroys weapons like that?” He smirks, eyes sparking with desire. “They were created when the lines were drawn on each map. The how and where are up for speculation, but the why is clear. Power.”
“And no one else has looked?”
“They’ve tried. But few have my resources.
” He gestures to the vast collection of books, some seemingly from the seraph, elven, and mortal lands, judging from their titles.
“None would test our might with such items. My people would be freed of fear and tyranny. The mortals spared of the Selections. We’d be united territories—we’d be rid of the boundaries that have us fighting over dirt.
Use those very tools to unite the land again.
Who better to lead them than two immortals with mortal hearts?
Perhaps this is why the World chose both of us.
In return, you’ll have power, freedom, and your family. ”
I move my queen to capture the bishop he’s so fond of, adding it to the little pile of black players against the side of the board.
The aftermath of the last war shaped my entire life. Nothing comes without a cost. “And what of the fallout, Draven? The body counts? A road to peace bathed in blood? What happens if you lose?”
“We won’t. Not together.” His head tilts, his eyes tingeing red at the challenge in mine. “I’ve been learning about you, Wraith. You don’t get to act like you’re holy. Not with me.”
I color, and I draw back my clenched fists.
“I didn’t kill good people.” I feel sick. He doesn’t know … he couldn’t know how much blood has filled the pages of my past. I was mostly sent to spy, but a few of those missions went sideways, leaving me with a body to bury, or scars, or haunting nightmares.
“Killing is killing. Only gods and saints act as if there’s a difference.
” His long fingers twist, his king stealing my queen.
I stare in surprise, unsure how I missed it.
How did I not even realize I was so close to his king?
So caught in taking that bishop, I forgot the endgame.
But he never did. He places her on his side of the board, a little trophy.
“But don’t worry, love, we keep our conquests to this side of the Wall, tow the seraphs and elves into line with those Arcadian Artifacts no one will dare challenge.
Gain loyalty from the druids with our fated status and our unparalleled Arcana.
We avoid war altogether, seizing power without a drop of bloodshed.
Except, perhaps, King Altair’s.” His eyes darken.
“As long as that Wall stays where it is, the mortals have no dangerous magic or beasties to fear.”
“Just you.”
“Just us,” he corrects.
My cheeks still burn. “What would your father do if he found us out?” I need to know the worst of it.
This deal could be my family’s salvation and get us both what we desire.
But if I don’t know the dangers, then I cannot plan countermoves against them.
This plan is pointless if we both end up dead because of it.
“My father’s vision for Sedah lacks ambition.
But he is protective of his power. He would force me to take on a more intensive obedience spell.
” He shifts as if each fiber of fabric has become a razor.
His look curls to a snarl, like a wolf backed into a corner.
“If I refused, he’d torture me, or lock me away until I broke or could be replaced.
He might force you to take my place under penalty of death, or likely the death of someone you love.
Which is why we cannot be caught. Outside of this room, he has more eyes and ears than blades of grass in a field. ”
Gone is the weakness I glimpsed. Instead, his face becomes a mask of steel, unbending and immaculate. I clear my throat, yet my voice still comes out strained. “There’s a slight problem with this deal. We can barely stand each other.”
He scoffs, a smirk lighting his features with amusement.