Chapter 3
Fire crackled in front of me, each pop a sharp little reminder of my failure.
The two Seers had been right there for the taking—my mouth, open and poised to deliver the Command to break their minds and bend them to my will.
And then, they’d vanished into the dark waters.
My crew had scoured the banks for any sign of them.
Ilae, my loyal auravane, had lost sight of them too.
With the river’s rage behind them, I doubted they survived.
Which meant I was going to have to write to my sister, the Korona, and inform her of their demise. For a decade now, I’d searched for them, and each time I’d been close, they’d slipped through my fingers.
Her vicious, accusatory tone punctuated the sizzles of the flames.
“Vaeron, you fucking imbecile! How could you let two powerful Seers die when we need them the most? Our father was right about you. You’re useless. Why do I bother keeping you around?”
I yanked on the end of the leather strap binding back my hair. Wound it around my palm. Squeezed until her voice disappeared from my head.
Her animosity wasn’t personal. It was a result of stress.
Her position at Koron Stadiel’s side had always been tenuous at best. Our father had used her as a pawn for his own ambition, marrying her off when she was scarcely old enough not to be considered a child.
Like all Angels with ice-blue irises, the Goddess had blessed Iaoth with a powerful, unique secondary magic—the ability to manipulate memories.
But the more she used her power, the more brittle and prickly she became, like she couldn’t remember who she was or how to be fucking nice to her own brother. She was the only family I had left. The only person I had left.
And the Koron? Well, he didn’t snatch his position from his competitors for the throne because he was handsome.
If I hadn’t come of age that same year, my father likely would have thrown me into the ring with males triple or more my maturity.
I’d never been so grateful to be born when I had.
My second-in-command sauntered over and dropped to the ground beside me. Throwing an arm casually over his knee, he regarded me with that keen awareness that made me want to curl my lips back from my teeth.
“What do you want, Maelsar?” I grumbled.
“I don’t think they’re dead,” he announced, so fucking sure of himself as always.
An annoyed sigh slipped out before I could stop it. “And why do you think that?”
He lifted a shoulder and let it fall. “Because I’m pretty sure I saw the heir to House Ilythar? with them.”
“That proves nothing. Life and death are the Goddess’s domain. Not his.”
“Either way, if they did survive, I know where they’re headed.” The firelight reflected the malice in his aquamarine eyes.
I cocked my head to the side. “And where is that?”
“His uncle’s estate is only a few days from here.”
One scarred brow arched. “How do you know that?”
My sister and I had grown up outside Eloi, in the northern part of the Angel Realm, under our noble parents’ judging gazes.
Maelsar was raised in the adjacent lanthi, second son of House Caerelith.
He was my oldest and closest friend, the only person I trusted.
While we’d traversed the west side of Keleti top to bottom in search of Seers and Elessarum, the specific location of other noble houses wasn’t relevant to our mission.
“You know I like maps,” Maelsar said with a shrug. “It would serve you well to look at one occasionally.”
I snorted my disdain. A piece of parchment wouldn’t tell me the direction of my prey’s travel. No, that was all instinct and understanding the psyche of my targets.
“And maybe don’t write to your sister until we’ve waited there a few days to see if they show.”
I hated how quickly relief loosened the vise around my ribs.
“Fine. We’ll set out in the morning.”
A grin stretched across his face.
“But if you’re wrong, I’m going to tell Iaoth that you let them get away.”
His smile slipped into a scowl. My expression remained stoic.
Harsh scrutiny raked over me as if he were gauging the seriousness of my threat.
Unfortunately for him, I was deadly serious.
“She’ll have my head for that,” he growled.
“I know. Still willing to bet that they’re alive?”
His arm dropped to his side. The glare he offered me was hotter than the pyre we’d lit for the dead Elessarum earlier.
“Yes, you asshole. I’m going to get some sleep now so when we find them in the morning, I’m more than ready to capture them.
I’ll take them to Sivy myself and lay them like a feast at your sister’s feet. ”
I groaned at the image. “She’d probably enjoy fucking you more than Stadiel.”
Maelsar shook his head and shoved to his feet. “Guess we’ll never know.”
I grunted at that as he strode away. Long minutes passed, and still I did not move from my position. I needed to rest, to let my throat heal after using my magic to round up the group of rebels.
With a groan, I reached for my waterskin and finished the last of it. Weariness tugged at my limbs, but I had one more thing to take care of before I dragged myself to my tent and flopped onto the cot that was scarcely better than sleeping on the ground.
All the prisoners jerked away as I approached their cage. Two guards stood on either side, luminous light undulating around their arms, prepared to lash out at the traitors. They didn’t so much as flinch as I pressed my hands into the bars and gazed upon my kith.
The hateful glares that speared into me were a harsh reminder of who I was to them.
A hunter. A tool of the crown.
The monster that claimed their freedom.
The Issaraeth.
All around the realm, Angels whispered my name with fear. Especially those who chose to disobey my sister’s direct orders. Or her husband’s.
The only reason I wasn’t leading the Angel army was because Ishim was direct blood to the Koron, and his power was even more suited to battle than my own.
“Tell me their names,” I purred, fingers tightening over the narrow iron squares.
From above, Ilae clicked his beak, tearing the prisoners’ attention to him.
In a ruffle of feathers, he landed on the top of their cage, silver eyes regarding them with cold curiosity.
The matching antlers atop his head glinted in the moonlight. Many shrank away from him.
To me, the auravane was an exquisite creature.
Larger than an eagle, he glided like he weighed no more than a jay.
His feathers, translucent and crystalline, were razor-sharp.
His sight was second to none, and once I’d given him a mark, he rarely failed in his tracking of the target.
Only a handful of the birds existed, and bonding one was considered a gift from the Goddess.
The female who had cracked and admitted their group’s true numbers pressed her lips together.
Her partner lay in a crumpled heap at her side, blood oozing out of a wound on his head.
Bronze encased their wrists, suppressing access to their power, which meant that his innate healing abilities wouldn’t stitch the wound closed tonight.
Every Angel had two types of magic: light that coiled in our chest, ready to use to shield or manipulate the world around us, and a secondary, Goddess-blessed power aligned with the color of our eyes.
The couple, along with a handful of others, had advantageous enough gifts to keep alive. The others had been born with weaker shades—sapphire, ocean, navy, or indigo—or they were plain Sensors, only able to manipulate the hearing, vision, or scent of others.
The punishment for joining the Elessarum and thereby betraying the realm was death unless they were useful.
In which case, their life essentially belonged to Iaoth and Stadiel.
My sister would often launch into their minds and erase everything about themselves, so they were nothing more than a shell for wielding.
Except for the Seers.
Deep down, my sister had always wished for that gift instead of the one she’d been given.
Which was why she had a menagerie of them. Instead of sheep, they were treated like prized pets, pampered and spoiled. Each was encouraged to meditate, pray, and connect with the Goddess, and when they were forced to See, they were given drugs to enhance their otherworldly connection.
A very different pet than me, my sister’s hunting hound.
I was no more than a weapon in her arsenal. And blades didn’t dream of doing anything other than what they were forged to do.
“You already know them,” the female replied, twitching over her partner’s body like she could shield him from further abuse.
“If I did, why would I be asking?” I pointed out.
“It matters not if they died,” she snapped back.
“Someone was eavesdropping,” I chided. She shot me with a glare. No matter. We’d find them—if they were still alive—and I’d confirm their identities then.
Without another word, I spun on my heel and stalked to my tent. Ilae sailed after me and perched on a branch hanging over my temporary accommodation. I didn’t bother undressing as I settled onto my cot. I did kick off my boots and place them outside so they didn’t stink up the enclosed space.
With a sigh, I laced my fingers behind my head, staring up at the blank canvas and visualizing exactly what needed to happen to capture the heir to House Ilythar? and the two Seers he’d fled with.
My mind worked over strategy after strategy as I wound down from the day’s events. I had to trust the Goddess, had to believe that she wanted me to find them.
Because if I didn’t?
Well, it would be better if I didn’t return to Sivy at all.