Chapter Seven #2
“Kassil has agreed to forgive all your previous transgressions and take you on as his wife.”
Not a beat of silence passes before I voice my opposition. “No.”
Netharis scoffs a laugh, nodding.
“I think, given time, you’ll come to change your mind,” Kassil muses in sanguine tones.
I tense, refusing to look at him. I keep my eyes locked on my father.
“No,” I repeat, my tone firm. “I request to be offered as House tribute in the Abyssal.”
The Abyssal is months away, which is hopefully enough time for me to find the solution to all of this.
Hushed whispers rise from the Layer Lords as Netharis draws in a deep, slow breath through his teeth. Vaelyn’s eyes grow round, and a muscle in his jaw feathers. He shakes his head.
“That is not an option,” Netharis’ tone edges on angry.
“Why isn’t it?” one of the Layer Lords asks.
“If she seeks the void for her transgressions, let her have it,” another adds.
“She will do as I instruct,” Netharis says, his blood-red eyes pinned against mine. “And she will serve her House in other ways.”
“You cannot force me to sign,” I manage through gritted teeth.
Netharis can scream and rage and threaten all he wants, it will not be enough to set my thumb to parchment.
Not even Netharis can break the cardinal rule of the hells—demons cannot use force or compulsion to earn a signature on a contract.
Doing so renders the contract void, and the blood magic used to enforce it fails.
“I’d like to draw your attention to your existing contract,” Netharis says callously, as if he were lecturing a room full of students. “Specifically, article four, section one, clause fourteen of your agreement.”
A bright flash of fire flares before my eyes, producing a scroll. It unravels itself, revealing Malbolge runes inked upon its surface. The parchment is nearly two feet long, but I recognize it right away.
It’s my contract.
The scroll curls its excess away leaving the exact place Netharis referred to visible. My eyes fall upon the clause, and I begin to read.
Netharis speaks the words as I read them, “In the event Vestaris Moonshadow becomes incapacitated or is deemed no longer of sound mind to fulfill the obligations of this contract, she will be relieved of her duties and consents to any decisions made by her governing agency. Including, but not limited to, the signing of subsequent contracts on her behalf that are intended for her benefit.”
The words rip through me, a cold, grasping darkness closing around the tiny spark of hope still alive in my chest. It doesn’t matter if I refuse to sign the contract, he can sign it for me.
This doesn’t make sense.
I scoured through my contract before signing it centuries ago.
This clause wasn’t present then. I would remember it.
Wouldn’t I?
Or at least I would have before my time in obsidian.
Another lost piece I’ve discovered too late.
“You have three days to sign the marriage contract with Kassil, or I will sign on your behalf,” Netharis says, giving me a small smile.
I didn’t expect to win this, but I didn’t expect to lose this badly either. I close my eyes as the contract vanishes in another flash of hellfire and smoke.
I sit, motionless. Numb.
Netharis stares at me, watching for any indication of an outburst like before.
I want to lose control.
I want to rip this room apart and tear him and the Layer Lords limb from limb. Yet I can’t bring myself to move. My innate feels eerily calm. My shadows and darkness a still pond within the depths of my essence, waiting for my next move.
“Maybe we shouldn’t wait until the end of the week,” Kassil offers as he inspects the pointed nails on his left hand. “It appears her ability to process information has been impacted as well.”
“She gets three days, Kassil,” Netharis says in a low tone, warning him not to push further.
Immediately, suspicion snakes through me.
Why would he give me three days?
Why would it matter if I sign or if he does?
This has to be some kind of test of loyalty.
I’ve no allegiance to the hells, despite the House brand on my flesh.
I have seventy-two hours to figure my shit out.
Seventy-two hours before I’m eternally bound to my abuser.
Kassil turns to me, painting a charming grin on his face. “Three days it is then. I look forward to reuniting with you, moonflower,” he purrs with a devilish grin.
?????????????
Within the sanctuary of the library my rage finds and annihilates me. The protective calm I had experienced moments before shatters, leaving me exposed and raw.
Rushing to the nearest shelf, I sweep soul crystals, obsidian boxes, and books from their haphazard perches. They crash to the ground, crystals shatter, releasing the crimson souls within. They dart away, shooting toward the ceiling, cowering in corners out of my reach.
They’re frightened and I don’t care.
Let them discover the true nature of the hells outside of the safety of this room they’ve sat in for centuries.
Shadowed tendrils lash out in every direction, ripping the tattered, dark red curtains from the windows, upending chairs and tables, and pulling entire shelves to the ground. I grab a crystal and hurl it across the chamber with a scream.
It smashes against the dark wall, shards glittering as they rain to the floor. The captive soul streaks away, out of the reach of my hands and out of the reach of my shadows.
My sight blurs, tears stinging behind my eyes as I continue to destroy anything and everything my hands and shadows touch. Pages shorn from books and slung without care, bolts ripped from the floor as shelves fall in a cascade as I scream until my voice gives out.
Hopelessness rears its desolate head and swallows me whole, and I slump to the floor in the center of the room, surrounded by disarray. My eyes sweep over the library as tears continue to silently fall, showing me the extent of the damage I’ve done.
My refuge lies in ruin.
Destroyed, by my own hand no less.
I stifle a sob.
The large table in the center of the room sits shattered, its pieces beneath me and scattered throughout the library, shards embedded into the obsidian wall. Empty bookshelves lean like fallen dominoes, mounds of books lining the floor between them.
Overhead, the gilded chandelier sways gently, its chain creaking.
With a jerk of my hand, shadows rip it from the ceiling, and it crashes to the ground beside me. Trembling hands cradle my face as another pitiful sob escapes my chest.
“Ves…” Ylara’s voice calls softly from beside me.
I can’t bring myself to look at her.
I don’t want her to see me like this.
The sound of footsteps through debris heralds her approach, and after a moment, she slides in next to me, her arms encircling my shoulders. She gently draws me into her, as silent sobs rack my body.
Leaning her cheek against my head, she holds me close and lets me cry.
Eventually, my eyes dry, leaving us sitting in a heavy silence.
Lifting my tired eyes, I stare at the mound of books at my feet, trying my best not to spiral into darkness—and failing.
In three days I’ll be married to Kassil.
Eternally bound to the demon guilty of rape, manipulation, and physical abuse. I should have never believed I actually mattered to him. I swallow hard against the lump in my throat and the rising nausea.
Shifting, I stretch my legs from beneath me, my leg pushing its way beside a pile of books. An obsidian box slips from its precarious perch atop it, falling onto my ankle and I cry out, causing Ylara to jump.
Snatching my leg away, I glare at the offensive box as Ylara reaches for it. “I’ve never seen obsidian like this,” she says, her soft voice quiet.
The surface of the dark stone has a swirling pattern carved into it, reminding me of old magic runes.
If they are runes, they’re of a language I don’t know.
The entire surface of the box is etched with continuous lines, deep grooves in the obsidian, and it’s near impossible to tell where the pattern begins or ends.
Roughly the size of a book, the box is slightly smaller, slightly thicker, and pounds heavier. My ankle burns with soreness as I continue to stare at the box. Ylara turns it over in her lap, her brows furrowing.
“I don’t recognize this design. Do you?” she asks, lifting her dark eyes to meet mine. “It’s almost runic.”
I shake my head.
Whatever it is, it’s beautiful.
Tracing my fingers over the lines, the unnerving magic meant to unweave one’s mind, one’s innate, pulls all the warmth from my hand. At the same time, a faint pulsing shoots up my arm and plants itself in my chest.
Not wanting to startle Ylara a second time, I withdraw my hand slowly, freeing myself of the damning magic meant to keep others away and the item safe within. I’m sure it’s some sort of cursed object Netharis has stolen from the living realm and squirreled away in his constant quest for power.
“What do you think it is?” she asks as she sets the box aside.
My thoughts veer dark. “Perhaps bloodstone,” I answer, my tone devoid of feeling.
Ylara’s face crumples. “I’m so sorry, Ves,” she says in a breathy rush and I turn to stare at my little sister. “There’s so much I need to—”
“Gods, Ylara,” I say softly, interrupting her. “None of this is your fault. You’ve no need to apologize.”
Working her lips into a flat line, Ylara meets my stare. She searches my face, and it’s as if she’s fighting with herself on what she should say next. As if she’s holding back her own tears. After a brief silence, she nods slowly, reluctantly.
“You’re not the one forcing me to marry Kassil,” I say and her eyes grow round before she grimaces, her brows furrowing. “I have three days before I’m ejected from the Tower and sent to the Layer of Wrath.”
“At the mercy of Kassil,” she whispers, and I deign a tight nod.
Reaching, she wipes a tear sliding down my cheek with a gentle hand.
I would have never expected such kindness from Ylara. It is not a demon’s nature to be kind.
“If you continue to show me kindness, you’ll find yourself beside Vaelyn as a target of Netharis’ rage,” I laugh weakly, and she gives me a small smile.
“We’ll just have to escape together,” she says and my brows raise in surprise. “Ves, please. I already know you plan on leaving. I would too if I learned it was possible.”
I stare at my sister, jaw agape. Once again, I’m reminded of how tiny Ylara really is. The smallest of Netharis’ children, the daughter of Indui, the goddess of the night.
“You want to leave?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. She nods. “Then we have three days to figure it out.”
Pulling herself to a stand, she offers me her hand. Without a second thought, I reach for her. Her eyes glimmer with excitement as I stand.
“We need more information on how this can work, if this can work,” she says, her voice confident and determined.
“I don’t know where to start,” I admit, defeated.
She grabs a couple crystals still intact from the floor, one in each hand. With a grin, she shoves one at my chest.
“What we need won’t be here. We have to barter for information.”