Chapter 28 #3
Relief cascaded through me. “That, among other things. If the court found out…”
“You would have been executed immediately,” he finished for me.
Sylaira choked on her food.
“Hell of a reason to obey,” Maelsar muttered, dropping his empty plate in the grass.
I shifted on the log. “Nothing ever happened after that, though. My father watched so closely.” Maelsar snorted at the neutral way I painted what the former Herr R?viel had done. “But I started to have these odd sensations a week after the bronze locked me out of my Angelic power.”
“Like what?” Sylaira questioned, brows pinching. “I thought I sensed something within you, but I wrote it off as part of our…animosity.”
“It was like I could feel the blood in everyone’s veins.
Sense their heartbeats. The faintest change in their pulse was a beacon.
But I’d never felt as connected to it as I had during our fight.
But only after I got this.” I raised my bandaged arm.
“After that, it was like their veins were vines and all I had to do was reach out and yank.”
“Fuck,” Maelsar swore, dragging his hands across his head and hugging the back of his neck. “So you have some sort of Demon power. Or you’ve had it all this time.”
“I think that it lay dormant because my Goddess-gifted magic is so much stronger,” I murmured. “Now that I can’t access it…”
“Vaeron,” Sylaira murmured, knocking her shoulder into mine. I looked at my mate, my whole fucking world, and hoped I wouldn’t see repulsion. “You’re not powerless. You’re stronger than anyone knows.” Her throat bobbed, and I tracked the movement, the predator in me rising. “Use it.”
“I agree,” Maelsar added. “We need all the advantages we can get.”
“Wait,” Lyriasthe jumped in. “Demon power is Fates-gifted. What are the consequences of that magic crossing?”
“What do you mean?” I asked her, brows pinching.
“Right now, when we use our power, it drains our wells. Sleep restores it. But to your body, Demon magic is unnatural. What if there’s a cost to using it? Did you feel anything after killing all those people?”
Fuck, she was right. That explained the darker hair.
“Your eye…” Sylaira trailed off, reaching up to push my hood back. Bubble lights floated from her fingertips, illuminating my face. “Do you see it too?”
Lyriasthe and Maelsar leaned forward, squinting. “Is that purple?” the Illusionist asked.
“What?” My body went cold.
“One of your irises isn’t as blue, it looks almost like a light violet at certain angles. I thought I was imagining it in the darkness,” Sylaira explained.
“Fuck,” I swore, smacking her magic away.
With a flick of her wrist, the incandescence dissipated. “Lyriasthe has a point. What if every time you use it, your hair darkens and the purple deepens?”
“Then I cannot use it. There will be no reasonable explanation for it.” The threads of bronze burned in my skin. “With the indoctrination…if anyone finds out, we won’t be able to hold them off. Iaoth and Stadiel have made sure of that.”
A log dropped in the fire, sending sparks shooting into the sky.
“It’s late, and we have a long few days ahead of us. Let’s get some sleep.” I couldn’t talk about this—think about this—anymore. Not when self-loathing slithered inside me like a leviathan from the deep.
Maelsar rounded the fire, pulling me into an embrace. “You’re still my best friend,” he told me. “This changes nothing. I only wish you’d told me sooner.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t,” I said as he broke away.
“You were ashamed.”
“I am.” Because I was something unnatural, even if it was unintentional. A monster, truly. My father was right all along.
Lyriasthe gathered our plates, and we bid the pair goodbye, needing to slink to our tent without being seen. Between Sylaira’s fame and my infamy, we were the target of everyone’s attention.
I tied the flaps closed behind us, and my mate flicked bubbles of white into the air, illuminating the cushions on the ground.
“Sylaira,” I said, grabbing her wrist.
She turned, blinking up at me, long lashes brushing against her cheekbones.
“This doesn’t…” Fuck, I hated how desperately those two words slipped between my teeth.
“Change how I feel about you?” she whispered. “No. I still haven’t entirely forgiven you, but…your new powers don’t make you any different from who you already are.”
“We must both cope with magic we don’t want,” I murmured, drawing her closer. An ache spread from me to her and her to me, our bond cinching tight.
Her teeth raked over her lower lip, and her heart tripped over itself. Her mouth opened like she wanted to speak but then closed just as fast.
Is she hiding something?
“I’m tired. It’s been a long day,” she said before I could ask her about it.
So I merely nodded and slid behind her, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her. Pressing a kiss to the side of her neck, I murmured, “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” she sighed, her small hand settling over mine.
But even as she fell asleep, I remained awake, my mind tumbling over and over what my changing appearance could mean for us…
And for the war.