Chapter 24
Vaeron lunged in front of me, silver shining in the sun. A scream ripped from the female’s throat as the blade sliced into her side. Ruby gushed from the wound, and she pressed her palms into her side to stem the flow of her life.
My hands slapped over my mouth, smothering my gasp.
The villager slumped to the ground, a groan rattling in her chest.
Lyriasthe clutched my arm, leaning into me. I tore my attention away, gaze colliding with my friend’s horrified one.
Because my mate had fucked up and now this female was dying.
Helene raced forward, white magic spilling from her palms. Incandescence wrapped around the injury, knitting flesh.
“How could you?” she snapped, glaring at my mate.
But the Issaraeth stood before her, tip of his sword resting against the ground, hands folded atop the indigo gem set into the pommel. No remorse carved his features. Just that cool, indifferent, cruel mask I’d come to know so well.
“There was a threat to my mate’s life,” he snarled, white teeth flashing. He cut his attention around the outdoor kitchen, leveling hard looks on each gathered Angel. “No matter how innocuous her intentions, she rushed Sylaira.”
And my heart still thundered in my chest from it. The first time, in Thaerii, had shaken me to my core. He hadn’t been there then.
But he was here now—overcautious, but here. Yet threaded into his impeccable posture was an undeniable otherness. Something I couldn’t quite explain, but a sense nonetheless that something had shifted inside him.
The female coughed, life returning to her. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she looked up at us. “I am so sorry, Seraelth, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
My brows shot up my forehead before I could stop them. She was apologizing to me?
“I only meant to beseech you to use your Sight to end this war. It is the holiest blessing from the Goddess.”
Lyriasthe released my arm, her fingers leaving a phantom pain in their wake.
I swallowed, looking to my mate for confirmation on how I was supposed to act.
I’d learned during my time at Thalvireth Palace that situations like these required political posturing and maneuvering.
I’d grown more adept at it, but with all the attention on me…
My pulse deafened my ears. Sweat slicked my palms. Everyone seemed to creep closer without moving at all.
“Breathe.” Vaeron’s velvety voice soothed my nerves, like he alone knew how to ground me against the terror.
Because we shared this divine connection, even if I drew a deep line between us. He understood me like no one else did—could. We were two partners in a dance, hyperaware of the other’s movements, flowing with the type of grace composers wrote songs about.
“I am open to whatever our Radiant Mother wishes to offer me,” I told her gently.
She nodded, using the backs of her hands to swipe away her tears. “My sons have been gone far too long, and my husband was killed last year. Those red-eyed beasts must die for what they did. I trust that the Goddess will guide you forward so they are eradicated entirely!”
More gathered behind the believer, wringing their hands or waving to get my attention. Many fell to their knees, thumbs hooked and resting on their foreheads as they whispered prayers of gratitude.
Althirion and Nymirae flitted through my periphery, and when I glanced in their direction, an icy chill rolled down my spine.
Surrounding them was a sea of bodies, children seated on the shoulders of their fathers—or grandfathers, if I had to judge their age.
Bundles of flowers worked their way forward, dropping into a pile.
Leather and other handmade crafts joined them.
A maelstrom roared inside me. Because while we’d been winding through the forest, the Koron and Korona had continued to wield me as a weapon for their war. They’d found a way beyond my Sight alone.
To these people—to how many others?—I was the reason the Angels would defeat the Demons. Their faith in the Goddess propelled them to worship me, to give me offerings as though I were an altar to everything they believed.
I didn’t want this.
For years, I’d dreamed of dancing on stage to an audience of thousands. How they’d cheer for me as my performance concluded. How awed they’d be by the perfection of my movements.
Not to be extolled.
Not to use my Sight.
Not to be their savior.
“Please, bless our food!”
“Our crops!
“My babe!”
Requests rang out, rising to a crescendo. Guilt pressed down on me with each one, the consequences of my deception pounding into my ears. With a growl and flick of his sword, the Issaraeth silenced them all.
At least none of them knew he couldn’t Command them to disperse. That fact knotted fear into my gut. I shifted closer to him…because proximity was safety.
Helene finally intervened, raising her hands in a placating gesture. “The Seraelth will have time for all of that. But first, let her ensure our holy warriors are fed.”
I nearly sagged with relief—though I didn’t think the priestess diverted the flow of the moment for my benefit. Those who had been working in the kitchen returned to their stations, though none of them resumed preparation.
“I’m going to find Maelsar,” Lyriasthe whispered in my ear.
I nodded, catching her gaze and the sympathetic twist to her lips. No matter what, she was with me. With everyone’s attention still on us, she slipped away unnoticed.
Vaeron sheathed his sword. I passed him, following Helene into the kitchen. The heat of the fires was nothing compared to the heat at my back. Of the barely restrained violence radiating off my mate.
And I welcomed it.
At each station, we stopped, and I bowed my head like I was a pious, devout believer.
Helene spoke a prayer over each morsel. I stopped hearing them, the tempest inside me barely contained. Dreams of how I’d drown the realm with a powerful deluge, of how I’d strike down these insane beliefs instilled by priestesses and the crown alike filled my mind instead.
“Be the storm, little fugitive.”
Vaeron’s words weren’t a warning—they were permission.
A kitchen worker snatched my hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. I jerked away, air locking in my chest.
But she didn’t seem to care. “Goddess save you, Seraelth.”
“Thank you,” I managed to grit out, spinning on my heel and striding toward the next group. I shot Helene with a glare, but she kept that fucking serene smile in place.
There were so many kneading dough here that it was impossible not to brush up against them. Children tugged on my cloak as the priestess prayed. Someone else nudged my arm, knocking it into a pile of flour. As we walked away from them, a male whispered, “Now each loaf will ensure our sons’ safety.”
To them, my very touch was a token. A false promise.
My shoulders would not drop from my ears. Barbs dug into my ribs. Hot salt pricked my eyes when a youngling, not even of age yet, begged me to tell him if I’d Seen his death.
And each time someone attempted to touch me—or succeeded—Vaeron’s rage grew too. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”
He repeated it time and time again. At least we were united in our loathing of this moment, being forced to perform.
Until finally, he snapped.
A male didn’t bow his head in prayer, his attention fixed on me like it was the first time he’d ever seen a female.
“Drop your gaze,” Vaeron snarled, fists planting on the table in front of him. He leaned in, lips curling back from his teeth.
Helene paused, finding my mate seconds away from leaping forward and strangling the kitchen worker.
“She’s so young,” he whispered, transfixed on me still.
Somehow, I managed to keep my expression neutral, even though inside I was dying from a potent poison of fear and fury.
“I said to drop your gaze.” Vaeron’ voice was low and threaded with violent promise.
“Issaraeth,” Helene hissed like she had any right to admonish him.
“Finish your supplication. Then we’re done here,” he threatened, his eyes going glacial. That same wrongness, that same darkness from before, leaked through the cracks in him only I could see.
Yet it didn’t frighten me. Instead, relief washed through me. “Thank you.”
Helene rolled her lips but nodded. Raising her hooked thumbs to her forehead again, she finished her adulation of our Goddess.
The moment the last word left her lips, Vaeron snapped to his full height and moved between me and the people around us. Because that had been the opportune moment to steal their superstitions from me before.
“You can guide us to the inn now.” His tone left no room for argument.
The priestess opened her mouth like she was going to anyway. A savage growl rumbled in my mate’s chest. Her teeth clicked shut, and she swallowed. “Very well. Follow me.”
Helene ducked into a stone building at the rear of the kitchen. Blinking, I adjusted to the dim light, finding a storeroom brimming with stacks of grain and barrels of potatoes.
She gripped what appeared to be an immovable wall and shoved. With a groan, the stone slid open. “This way will be clear.”
We entered a long hall, and I flicked bubble lights into the air to guide our way. After a few minutes, Helene pushed open another door, revealing an empty street beside the stables where we’d dropped off the horses.
Vaeron checked both directions before allowing me to cross the cobbled stones and into the waiting building.
The innkeeper sat behind her desk, charcoal flying across parchment. She started at the sight of us, breaking the stick in half.
“Goddess,” she swore, jumping to her feet and offering a quick curtsey. “Helene, you could have given me a little warning that you were arriving early.”
The priestess tilted her head. “There was no time. The Seraelth needs to rest. I trust you can show them to their room?”
The innkeeper nodded furiously. “Of course.”