Chapter 35
Veined marble streaked past as I stalked through the wings of Thalvireth. Yet instead of the holy white, all I saw was red. Of course, my fucking sister brought Dasha to my homecoming. I’d bet on her being so furious with my delay that she’d drag me into her rooms privately for a berating.
Instead, she’d staged a spectacle of it. Now Sylaira knew of my betrothal, and she hated me all over again.
I turned the corner and of course, Iaoth was there, lying in wait like a viper coiled in silk.
“Get out of my way,” I snapped as I approached.
Her long, claw-like nails tapped against her bare upper arms. “We need to talk.”
“Later.”
I shouldered past her, not caring that it was far harder than needed to move her out of the way. But no one was around to witness anyway. Not even her royal guards.
“Now,” she hissed, fingers digging into my forearm as I pressed it against the door. It swung inward, and I stepped inside, gripping the wood so she couldn’t follow me.
Radiant magic flared from her, wedging a space I couldn’t close with brute force alone. And Goddess did I have enough wrath to do it.
“Fuck off, Iaoth.”
“Oh, you are not getting away from me, not right now,” she spat, taking a long step forward. Magic burst from me too, building an ivory barricade and disallowing her entry. “Lower it right this instant or I will tell the whole court you consumed blood magic from a Demon!”
A growl ripped out of me—feral, primal, and furious. I’d been a youngling then, as she had, and I hadn’t known until far later that I’d been affected by it. Not that she’d provide any context to anyone she told.
My sister glared through the barrier of our powers, unshaken by the undercurrent of violence.
We remained locked in that challenge, a sibling battle that had raged for centuries.
She wasn’t backing down.
“Fine,” I snarled, surrendering my hold and releasing the door.
I spun on my heel, tossing my pack onto a distant chair. It scraped across the ground from the impact. I rounded another piece of furniture, nails digging into the back of it in a desperate attempt to control myself.
“What in all the worlds is wrong with you?” Iaoth slapped her hand on a polished table for emphasis. Metal clinked against glass, her rings chipping the surface. “It has been decades since you broke down like a child.”
“Oh, I’m a child?” Sarcasm dripped from each word. I couldn’t help myself. I was unraveling at the seams. And my sister’s presence was doing nothing for the utter agony piercing my chest like a volley of Demon arrows.
If I was going to bleed out, at least I could do it all over her Goddess forsaken throne. Especially with the Korona’s recent treatment of me, her own fucking brother.
“You couldn’t even bother to show some excitement when Dasha was there to greet you after your extended absence. I know you don’t want this, Vaeron, but stop acting like a spoiled brat.”
A laugh, sharp and acidic, slipped out. Wood creaked beneath my fingers from how hard I clutched the back of the chair. “If anyone is spoiled here, it’s you.”
Iaoth had the nerve to look affronted.
“What happened to you out there, brother? You are so different from the male who left. Did the Seer hurt your pride by getting away?” she taunted, nose crinkling with her sneer.
At least she believed that it was Sylaira who had outsmarted me and not that I’d been too enthralled with the chase to let it end.
I didn’t correct her.
“She’s here now,” I stated, then cinched my jaw shut like the grip of those muscles could stop me from saying more.
“And you ran after her, dodging Dasha once again,” she pointed out, nails clawing through my continued silence.
“Stadiel needs this to happen, Vaeron. If it doesn’t, we could lose our position here.
House Elyriane will make a play for the throne if we don’t defeat the Demons soon.
You better hope those Seers you hunted down recently give us something too. We need to know what their plans are.”
The whispers I’d heard on the road had only curled unease in my gut. It was the only topic Iaoth could have wielded to get me to unstitch my mouth.
“And what has happened on the war front in my absence?” I asked, if only to distract my sister from more talk of my betrothed and my secret mate. With her current near-hysterical state, it was not the time to discuss Sylaira.
But will there ever be a good one?
I slapped the thought away. Once I had gauged the current state of affairs in Sivy, I would find a way.
But I had to protect Sylaira—at all costs.
Thalvireth Palace was a dangerous, dangerous place for her to be.
Hungry nobles lurked around every corner, waiting for a sliver of juicy gossip to wield like a blade.
Iaoth sucked in a deep breath, massaging her temples. “Those fucking red-eyed beasts!”
The only thing that angered my sister more than my failures were the people who shared our continent. I’d gladly use them as a shield while I tried to work out my plan.
“A small force of them has continued to halt our advance south. We have far more than they do! Ishim cannot explain why he has been unable to press them. He keeps saying they don’t have enough supplies to cross the Paks Desert.”
Of course they didn’t. I forced myself to exhale, long and quiet, as she continued her tirade.
“It’s just a damn desert! Why do they not pray to the Goddess for rain to ease the crossing? Our Radiant Mother would grant us such a miracle for how hard we have fought in Her holy war.”
Iaoth had never swung a sword a day in her life. She was no more of a warrior than any Elessarum, yet she liked to pretend she was sacrificing as much as the males and females on the front lines.
“Their dark magic must be eradicated. It is what She wants. Why doesn’t She help us more?”
I gritted my teeth, lest the words I wanted to say slip past. Namely, that the new ring she sported could have bought a month’s worth of food for the army.
Or that if she’d allowed me to continue to fight alongside Ishim rather than calling me back to hunt Elessarum and Seers, we’d likely already be in Uzhhorod.
Her gaze sharpened and pricked me again. “You won’t believe what Calrien has done now either.”
“If I wasn’t there, it’s not my problem,” I stated. He’d been part of my crew for a long time, but I’d never trusted him like Maelsar. Despite his high position, we’d always kept him at arm’s length.
Much like Sylaira had me, and would again.
A rumble of frustration rose and died in my throat as I refocused on what Iaoth was saying.
“He is under your command,” she hissed, expression hardening like she knew my attention had drifted.
“Never wanted him to be,” I pointed out. “For this very reason.”
Iaoth released a closed-mouth, exasperated scream. “You always want everything to be your way. Have to be in control of everything.”
Sylaira had said the same. Even with my sister berating me, I couldn’t stop thinking about my mate.
“Why can’t you accept the help I give you?”
A caustic laugh nearly burst out of me. Did she really think I held sway over her?
After she and her husband had forced me into an arranged marriage I didn’t want, I’d started to realize just how little influence I had with the rulers of the realm.
Something Sylaira had sensed and pointed out multiple times during our travels.
To be confronted with it again upon my arrival opened my eyes further. I already knew too much truth for someone raised among the propaganda. I’d helped some of it spread at the behest of the Angel monarchs. Now, every action I’d taken grated against my nerves.
Through clenched teeth, I ground out my next words. “Because it’s usually not helpful at all. Now is there anything else you have to say to me or will you get the fuck out so I can rest?”
“How dare you curse at me,” she snipped. “Remember who you obey.”
I swept into a mocking bow. “Of course, Korona. I am nothing but your obedient pet.”
“Then be a good dog and go see your betrothed.” She shoved the table, sending the papers on top of it scattering to the floor.
Still fuming, she stomped from the room, acting as much a youngling as she painted me.
When the door slammed shut behind her, I collapsed into the chair I’d nearly broken and buried my head in my hands.
This was my penance for my selfishness. This was my penance for allowing myself to feel.
I was nothing more than a weapon. Forged for my duty. Sharpened by my family’s harsh words.
And I would do well to remember my place in the Angel court.
So why, when I finally dragged myself into my bedroom, did the rip of agony down our bond bring me to my knees?