Chapter One #2
His loyalties lie with Netharis. He made that clear when he told Netharis about the golden-eyed fae.
With a sweeping push, the pile of books slides left, bumping against a taller stack, hiding the spine with dancing runes.
Reaching, I pull a different stack closer and straighten it, turning the spines toward me as I lift the top book with the intent to read.
The Royal Fae Families of Eldoterra.
It takes more willpower than I’d care to admit to keep from rolling my eyes. Chance would have it that I come across this. This is absolutely a Ylara find, her interest in mortal culture and tradition is near obsessive.
Reluctantly, I open the book with a sigh. Vaelyn stops across from me, staring in my direction. A stare I wholly ignore.
“Nose first in books like always,” he comments with a grin, dragging the chair away from the table.
“Perhaps you should try sticking your nose in one once in a while,” I counter, glancing over the table of contents.
Eight fae countries, eight royal families, each with their own chapters.
How droll a subject.
“Sounds awful,” Vaelyn scoffs, his face pinching with evident distaste as he throws himself into his seat, nearly knocking it backward. “I’ll leave the reading to you since you seem to enjoy it so much.”
Lifting my gaze from the page, I stare at him in silence. His blue eyes meet mine and he studies my face, his smile slowly fading.
“You dreamt about him again, didn’t you?” he asks, pitching his hands behind his head as he leans back in the seat.
I don’t know how he knows it, how he can tell, and I hate that he’s right.
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” Lie and deflect, a tried and true tactic of all demons. “I’m simply trying to read in peace.”
He makes a ‘hmph’ sound, arching a dark brow. “Simply trying to read, or simply trying to distract yourself from your thoughts after rushing through your reaping list this morning?”
Gods damn him.
Clinging to my deteriorating visage of being unbothered, I return my eyes to the page.
“Whether I rushed through the list or not matters little,” I say, heaving a tired sigh. “Netharis has his souls.”
Vaelyn laughs, nodding. “True. But I always finish my list before you, and yet today you’ve finished before me. Which means you didn’t linger in the veil.”
I’m going to pluck his eyes from his skull for being more observant than he has any right to be.
Today, I didn’t resist the pull of the hunting instinct as I usually do to sightsee.
I visited twenty locations across Eldoterra, six of which were first time visits, small towns tucked away in the wilderness.
I paid no attention to any of them. Too distracted by my thoughts of him.
I reaped efficiently and returned to the hells, neither Vaelyn nor Netharis have any right to find fault in my actions. Yet here Vaelyn and I stand, him questioning why I’d worked too well.
I’ll never win against either of them.
My budding irritation gets the better of me. “If you find fault with how I reap, I suggest you run to Netharis.”
His jaw tightens, my words a blatant dig.
“You’re never going to let that go,” he says, his tone softer than I’d expect.
“No.”
“Ves, it was for your own protection,” he says, lowering his arms to cross them over his chest. “You left me little other choice. You spurned Kassil because of this fae, involved yourself with a succubus as retaliation and have locked yourself away for the last two centuries.”
My laughter is dark, bitter. “You would mention Kassil.” My lip curls in disgust. “The fae had nothing to do with escaping him.”
Leveling a withering glare at my twin, he sighs, pursing his lips.
“What is it you want, Vaelyn?” Not Vae, not brother, his full name.
“He asks about you still.” He means Kassil.
Vaelyn watches me as if I were on the verge of leaping across the table and grabbing him by the throat. And perhaps today I might. Especially if he keeps on about the Lord of Wrath.
“Am I supposed to be flattered?” I flip to page thirty-three—a chapter on the Everbreeze family of Aeros. I’m determined to feign my interest in the book to emphasize my disinterest in anything Vaelyn has to say.
“Flattered? No,” he says. “Concerned, yes. He’s convinced it’s a matter of time before you return to him.”
Nausea and unease blossom in my stomach, setting my face to a scowl as I attempt to read. I’ll never return to Kassil. I barely managed to escape him the first time, and it cost me my freedom to move about the hells. It cost me Druka. But it cost her more.
A sudden jerking movement snaps my eyes toward my sibling. He’s leaning back in his chair, teetering precariously on its back legs. The thought of him crashing to the floor curls my lips with a wicked grin.
“Please do fall, Vae. I am in desperate need of distraction from my thoughts.”
He smirks. “I’m not going to fall.” His arms flail out as he hooks his toes under the lip of the table.
“You behave like an imp,” I say flatly, arching a brow.
“He’s hosting a gathering this evening.” Again with Kassil. “He’d like you to join.”
My mounting irritation is going to land me in Netharis’ study. The god of death doesn’t take kindly to those who assault the heir of the hells.
“Please return my most humble and emphatic no.”
His eyes race to mine. “I’d like you to join.”
He stares at me from that ridiculous splayed position. And for a moment, I’m reminded of how things used to be. As much as I want to reconnect with my twin, I don’t think I can.
Beneath the table, tendrils of shadow creep across the floor, winding toward the legs of his chair. They wrap around the legs, and because I’ve no interest in stopping them, they yank.
Like a heavy stone cast into a pond, Vaelyn plummets backward, to the floor. In a swirl of shadows, he’s swept up seconds before landing against the polished obsidian and deposited upright beside the chair.
“Seriously?” he asks, brows high, voice incredulous.
My shadows race back to me, skirting beneath my robes.
“You’re failing to recognize when your company is unwanted,” I say, and he gives me a flat glare.
Smoothing his hands down the front of his black button down shirt, he straightens his silver feathered wings behind him.
So strange for a demon to have wings reminiscent of a Life Bringer’s.
Mine are darker than midnight. While they’re not the same flesh and bone like the wings of demons, they’re at least not bright and shiny like Vaelyn’s.
At first glance, Vaelyn could pass as fae.
Moonlight pale skin, waist length straight silver hair, broad shoulders, vivid blue eyes, and in possession of what mortals would consider an attractive face. All I see are his demonic tendencies. Vaelyn can be as manipulative as the god of death himself.
“I’m giving you the chance to get out of this tower, Ves,” he says, planting his hands on his hips. “Netharis won’t care where you go if I’m with you.” He picks up the chair and re-seats himself.
“I’ve already said no,” I retort, scanning the first sentence on the page.
Apparently, the Everbreeze royal family is renowned for their wind innate. Honestly, it’s not an innate I’d consider impressive.
“And if I order it?”
I freeze, every muscle coiling in tight.
“You come here, disturb me, and threaten to pull rank?” I spit the words, my voice low. “All for what? To watch Kassil treat me like property? Do you find his abuse of me entertaining? Has shadowing Netharis truly destroyed your mind? Or is this an attempt to win more of Netharis’ favor?”
Vaelyn grimaces, tearing his eyes away, unable to hold my stare.
Some of my brother remains in there after all.
“I see your tongue hasn’t lost any of its sharpness during your self-imposed isolation,” he counters quietly, irritation seeping into his voice.
I scoff a laugh, unbothered by his tone. “Are you finished here?”
“Ves,” he heaves a sigh, “I’m sorry. I’m not Ylara. I’m not going to sit here and watch you wither away because you can’t accept who you are, what you are.”
Our youngest half-sibling has nothing to do with anything between us and I’m not sure why Vaelyn would bring her up. A moment passes as I stare at my brother before I realize it’s jealousy.
My lips curl into a wicked grin. “Jealousy becomes you, Vaelyn.”
“It is not jealousy,” he retorts, rolling his eyes. “Something is changing in the hells, Ves, can you not sense it? I can. Netharis’ behavior has been more secretive than usual.”
“What?” My eyes narrow.
I can’t say I’ve sensed or noticed anything. At the same time, I can’t say I cared enough to pay attention.
He stands from his seat. “If you were smart, you’d align yourself with Kassil for your own benefit.”
Immediately my anger returns. “Say his name again in my presence, Vaelyn,” I snarl the warning. “Kassil can rot.”
His face sets into a scowl. “Your dream fae isn’t—”
My anger flares. Before he can finish his sentence, I launch the book in my hands across the table. Aimed at his head. It flies swift and true, but Vaelyn shields himself with an arm, deflecting the makeshift projectile. It lands on the floor with a loud slap.
Jaw agape with shock, Vaelyn stares at me as if I’d assaulted him with a thrown dagger.
“I tried.” The words are pure ice. “When you’re ready to discuss things in a civilized manner, find me.”
In a billowing swirl of shadow, Vaelyn vanishes.
Civilized? Rich coming from a demon.
No, he’s simply mad I refuse to be used as a pawn in whatever power struggle Netharis has influenced this week.
Centuries ago I would have listened to him, I would have gone with him to plot and plan and scheme with the Lord of Wrath.
But Vaelyn’s no better than any of the Layer Lords, or Netharis, always seeking to improve his status within the hells—despite being the hells’ chosen one.
Learning everyone I ever trusted only sought to serve themselves was an eye opening period. One I refuse to go through again. I’ll never fully trust any demon, not even little Ylara.
My eyes swing to Fated Celestials.
Books, though.
I can trust books.
Books will not beat me, lock me in obsidian, or use compulsion magic to force me to listen.
Snatching it from the stack, ignoring the unsettling sensation causing my skin to crawl, my favorite seat by the fireplace across the library calls my name.
Shadows rush up around me, and vanish, leaving me deposited in the seat.
With a snap of my fingers, a fire roars to life a few feet away behind the intricate metal screen. The gentle popping and cracking coaxing my anger to subside. Taking a deep breath, I set the book on my lap and turn to the first page.
Blank.
What?
I turn another page.
Blank.
Another and another. All blank.
None of this makes sense. Why would a blank book possess a defense curse? I don’t know what I expected to find. At this point, I’ll take anything to distract me from my spiraling thoughts. Best case scenario, it’ll be information on how to escape the hells.
Give me something. Anything.
Dark runes float to the surface of the page, as if they’re being pulled from the depth of the hells themselves and begin to arrange themselves. In a matter of seconds, I sit staring wide-eyed at a table of contents.
Moonfire: The Moon Goddess’ Saga the title across the top of the page reads. My face pinches with confusion. This is a book about my mother? Netharis had all books on Celesta removed from this library before I was born and has made it clear questions about her would not be answered.
Curiosity and wariness breed in my chest as I read over the page. Only four chapters it seems. Odd considering the thickness of the book.
The Contract.
The Sacred Births.
The Ascension.
The Harbinger of Chaos.
Flipping to chapter one, I begin to read.