Chapter 2
The blade froze midair. Stadiel’s attention snapped to me, his ice-blue irises frost-cold. My heart thundered against my ribs as I held his gaze, hoping, praying that he’d hear me out and not finish the swing of his sword.
My warring desires tore through me. I’d saved my mate, the male who continued to hurt me over and over and over. I was a fool; I should have let him die so I could be free of him.
The bond seared me at the mere thought of living without him.
“It’s true,” the Issaraeth ground out, lifting his head. “Amid the whirlwind. That’s why she was shrieking.”
I hadn’t been able to close the barrier between us.
Bitterness coated my tongue. After I’d realized what was happening, I’d tried to shut my mate out. A punishment for how deeply he’d maimed me. But I hadn’t been fast enough in the throes of my divine power.
Iaoth motioned for the sentinel holding me to surrender his grip.
The pricks in my scalp eased but lingered as a sharp reminder of what would happen if I wasn’t convincing.
I sat back on my heels, forcing my fingers to remain in my lap rather than soothing the ache.
Stadiel too relaxed his posture, the tip of the silver blade dropping to the ground.
I took a bracing breath, holding my body in subtle stillness so as not to betray my deception.
“I will only tell you somewhere private. This is not something you want everyone to hear,” I whispered, even as I scrambled for a way to conceal the end I’d truly Seen. They didn’t deserve the reality—none of them did. Not after the stack of sins they’d accumulated against me.
Would the Issaraeth play along with whatever lie I spun?
The monarchs shared a glance. “Fine,” Stadiel growled, sheathing his weapon.
“And Maelsar will not die,” I insisted while I still had an audience. “None of us will. We are all important to the prophecy.”
Iaoth cocked her head. “How can we trust that you’re not saying all of this to save yourselves? You’ve faked so many visions already.”
Fuck.
How long had she known? Or suspected? And had the Issaraeth told her of the virelthorn?
I’d been so naive to think he would protect me from her.
“Because,” I began through gritted teeth, “the Issaraeth knew I’d rather die than See again. And yet he betrayed me anyway.”
Offering her a truth now would ease her into my deceit. I couldn’t speak falsities from beginning to end—the monarchs were far too smart for that. This posturing might be the only thing that ensured the three of us walked away with our heads.
Something my mate couldn’t deliver at the moment.
Sinister delight glinted in the Korona’s eyes.
She flicked her mist-gray hair over her shoulders and knelt in front of me.
“You poor thing. Don’t worry, after you’ve told us of your vision, I’ll take away all your memories of him.
That way you won’t have to hurt anymore. A treat for my favorite darling.”
Bile rose in the back of my throat, but saccharine temptation danced along my tongue.
To never remember how thoroughly I’d been broken, to not have to feel this agony, would be a blessing.
But she would win, and I’d have no reason to drown her—and the rest of the nobility—in the downpour of my anger.
Swallowing down the storm that wanted to scream, I offered her a bittersweet smile. “Thank you.”
Pressure built on one side of the barrier, but I kept the Issaraeth firmly out of my mind. He didn’t get to know anything else about me. Not my thoughts, not my feelings. Definitely not whether I truly intended on taking the Korona up on her offer.
The tempest raging in my chest wanted nothing more than to strike them all with bolts of lightning, leaving nothing but scorched earth.
Maybe we deserved to die at the hands of the Demons. A fitting punishment for allowing these monsters to rule our realm and force us into a senseless, needless war. The dark turn of my thoughts should have frightened me.
But I was beyond caring.
Iaoth reached out and cupped my cheek. I flinched away.
“You are all dismissed,” Stadiel boomed over my head.
Shouts of protest rang out, but another order from their monarch had footsteps scattering like leaves in an autumn gale. Even Maelsar’s father went with them, but not without a longing glance at his son.
On wobbling legs, I rose, chin held high in defiance. Maelsar and my mate stood too. The Issaraeth’s gaze burned into me, but I kept my attention firmly ahead.
“We’ll go to the royal feather,” Stadiel decided, snapping at his sentinels. Because of course, their choice of words to describe this place was as pretentious as they were. Rather than wings, it was fucking feathers.
Two sentinels framed each of us as they escorted us down the back staircase. Hours ago, I’d ascended it, thinking that after the trial we’d be free to leave this cursed palace.
The halls of Thalvireth rang with frustrated nobles, but none dared approach as we disappeared into the area reserved only for royals.
I’d never ventured in this direction, and I couldn’t help but gape at the sheer opulence. Gilded vines climbed the walls. Tapestries of our Radiant Mother hung in the spaces between, her visage larger than life.
The guards ushered us into a receiving chamber, thick tomes lining one wall. Another was entirely glass, the Goddess Moon trickling between the leaves of the canopy. Bubble lights filled the space, illuminating further decadence, from crystal decanters to velvet blankets and hand-carved mahogany.
“Leave us,” Stadiel barked at the royal guards.
With sweeping bows, they departed, leaving us shackled and standing before the monarchs.
My hands shook, and I hid them behind my back, grateful that these cuffs weren’t linked together like the ones the Issaraeth had placed on me after hunting me down in the Skala Mountains.
Iaoth retrieved parchment and settled on the edge of a settee, charcoal poised to write what the Goddess had shown me.
“Go on,” she said without any ceremony. “What did you See?”
I swallowed against the knot in my throat. Our trek hadn’t been long enough to devise a solid story. And I wasn’t about to ask my mate for help through our mental connection.
Months ago, I’d vowed to become the storm they would fear.
To do that, I had to perform like it was my Vaela? premiere. So I set my feet, found my rhythm, and starleaped into the lie.
“I Saw the Angels falling.”
No one spoke. Iaoth’s hand didn’t even move.
“What?” she finally asked, the word small and weak.
“I Saw the Angels falling,” I repeated, my tone even and measured.
“What do you mean ‘falling’?” Stadiel snapped, head tilting to the side, scrutiny so forceful it raked across my flesh like nails.
I dragged in a deep breath, eyes dipping closed. “It was the end. The same one Heraphia Saw, I think.” A shudder wracked my frame as I fell back into the memory of the prophecy.
Some of my half-truths had to be believable.
“The Es? Forest was burning. Demons had overrun Sivy. The Issaraeth and Koron Stadiel were dead.” I paused, letting the weight of what I’d Seen sink in. Opening my eyes, I found everyone staring at me with varying degrees of concern—and fear.
There it was—I'd hooked them.
“But there was another path.”
My falsehood had to twist into hope, after all.
Yet a sick feeling knotted in my stomach.
Because once I set this dance in motion, Zuriel would die on the front lines.
At least then he and Heraphia would be reunited, a small, bitter mercy.
The other Seers who were caged as we had been would perish.
As would the countless Elessarum who wouldn’t pick up a blade to defend themselves.
“Tell us, child,” Stadiel ordered.
My attention flicked to him. I was no youngling to be chided. I was the most powerful Seer in centuries. Even if I didn’t want my gift, I still deserved to be treated with a measure of respect.
Remorse should have slithered through my veins at the knowledge my story could end with millions dead. The Elessarum side of me should have risen up in protest.
But Heraphia’s death had broken me.
The Issaraeth’s betrayal had shattered the last shard of hope for our realm I’d clung to.
If he was no better than the crown, there was nothing I could do to save our race. I only hoped the Demons were more merciful than the monarchs standing before me.
“There must be a three-pronged attack in the mountains,” I said.
For that was what would cause the Angels’ downfall.
In order to ensure that future came to pass, I needed to tell them exactly where to be.
“We will retake the wall. That is paramount. I Saw the Issaraeth command a thousand Demons and bring them to their knees for our holy warriors to slaughter. Only then were we able to pass into their realm and fly on Uzhhorod.”
Charcoal flew across the parchment as Iaoth recorded my prophecy.
“Is this what she Saw?” Stadiel pressed my mate.
“Aye,” he acquiesced, hanging his head.
Shock jolted me.
The Issaraeth was…lying for me? He was defying his duty to them. If he’d Seen what I did, he would have known there was nothing other than death and destruction and decay. Which meant he was choosing me over the realm.
I shook out the surprise and buried it before the monarchs could witness the slip in my expression.
“Obviously, we cannot tell the court about the first path,” Iaoth said, setting the charcoal down. “We must convey that our victory lies in spreading out along the dividing wall.”
“I’ll write to Ishim at once and inform him of this new vision,” Stadiel muttered, reaching up and pinching the bridge of his nose. “But the nobles will want blood. Something has to happen or we’ll lose control of them.”
“None of us die,” the Issaraeth snapped, stepping forward. “You need my Command for this. I need Maelsar’s Mirror magic too. It can work as an amplifier for me.”