Chapter Five #2
I rub at my brow.
Pitching herself forward, Eve slaps my hand away from my face. “Stop touching your damn face,” she laughs. “You’ve soot all over your hands. You look like you’ve taken Ashdown too far.”
The door swings open and both our heads swivel, eyes wide.
Frozen in the doorway, Oraphia’s eyes bounce from me to Eve before taking in the whole of the room. With a strangling silence she closes the door behind her softly, careful of the basket perched against her hip. It’s filled with everything I need for a raven-sized funeral pyre.
Bracing myself for the lecture of all lectures, I suck in a deep breath and hold it tight. Instead, Oraphia smiles and I nearly cough. Eve turns her wide eyes to her folded hands in her lap.
I’ve broken Oraphia.
“Lady Ves,” she chimes warmly. “Having a rough morning?”
I stammer and Eve scoffs a disbelieving laugh.
A rough morning.
Let’s call it that.
?????????????
A kaleidoscope of colors streaming from the stained glass window above washes my hands and arms in an array of red, blue, green, and gold. I’ve stared at the slow-shifting colors for the past ten minutes, sitting at a table in the library as I wait for Lilith.
I’m less than excited.
I’ve been advised not to leave the castle grounds without the company of Cyran or Ryc thanks to Rowen’s news. Now there’s no chance of Ryc ignoring my little escapades and all the chance of him growing protective and territorial.
I understand why.
But I still hate it.
It means no slipping off to The Lioness, to the North Docks, or the Brightmoss district today.
But…
Perhaps I can make use of today’s lesson.
I need to know more about the High Council.
I need to know who the Sovereign Kings are, what they’re capable of, and any points of interest that I could potentially exploit. Lilith was Sovereign Queen of Erus for a time, she has to know something useful. Her head can’t be filled with fae customs and traditions and celebrations alone.
She doesn’t strike me as that singular.
But I’ve been wrong about mortals before.
Eve leans across the table, tapping my hand quickly before retreating. “Put your scowl away,” she says.
Before I can reply, Lilith breezes into the library with a shining smile on her face. With her crimson hair swept into a loose bun and the deep blue dress she wears, she looks exactly how I would imagine a Sovereign Queen Emeritus should.
“Ves,” she greets in her typical bright tones. “Good morn.”
She sets the small stack of books in her arms upon the table before taking the seat directly across from me.
There’s no point in waiting.
Lilith may prove a resource.
If I’m lucky, an invaluable one.
“I would like to learn more about the High Council and the kings,” I say and her brows fly high.
She hesitates, glancing at Eve before returning her eyes to me. With a nervous laugh, she straightens the books before her, aligning the corners perfectly.
“Any other day, I’d be happy to oblige you. But today I’ve been asked to cover this.” Pulling a title from the stack, she pushes a red leather-bound book across the table. The Joining it reads in elaborate, trailing gold script.
I’ve seen this book before.
In the hells.
Granted, it was a Malbolge translation.
Ylara included it in a stack with others on similar topics. Titles involving fae and human traditions and customs. Even if I had the time to read it then, I wouldn’t have.
My feelings on the book remain the same.
There are better ways to utilize my time.
Today would be better spent learning about the High Council—not about whatever this joining is.
Eve notes the cover and groans, sinking further into her seat.
“Ryc’s orders,” Lilith says, shooting her a bright smile.
“I’m not surprised,” Eve drawls, clearly unimpressed. “Thank you, King Killjoy,” she mutters to no one but herself.
“Another fae tradition?” I ask, fighting against my lip and its desperate want to curl.
Lilith unleashes her brilliant smile upon me. “It’s the ultimate agreement between fae—the promise to find one another in this life and the next.”
It can’t be literal.
“For lifetimes.” Ryc’s words from months ago ring in my head.
Can it?
Eve, wearing a rather dejected look, swings her face to me. “It’s a ritual. One steeped in blood magic,” she says.
My brows furrow. “I thought—”
“It’s the only sanctioned blood magic practice permitted,” Lilith interjects as she levels a withering glare at Eve.
Eve doesn’t notice.
She’s busy inspecting her nails. Or perhaps she’s choosing to ignore Lilith. Either way, Lilith’s glare meant to silence holds no immediate effect upon the fae sitting beside her.
“You’ll give your Sovereign King a piece of your soul,” Eve continues. “You’ll become soulbound.” She sneers the last word. She lifts her gaze from her nails to meet mine.
Soulbound?
Lilith heaves an irritated sigh, the crease between her brows deepening. At this point, I’m surprised it’s not a permanent feature anytime she’s within ten feet of Eve.
“It’s an exchange,” Lilith corrects with heavy emphasis as she turns to me. “Ryc will give the same in return.”
Eve scoffs as she pulls a dagger from the leather bandolier across her chest. “I don’t see where I misspoke.” Without concern, she proceeds to pick at the dirt under her nails using the blade tip.
“You’re being entirely too simplistic,” Lilith chides. “I understand and respect your displeasure with Nektos-chosen mates. But let them have this.” She sounds damn near imploring.
Eve’s eyes slide left, meeting Lilith’s.
A muscle tightens in Eve’s jaw and silently she relents with a slight nod.
Lilith heaves a thankful sigh and turns her attention to me. Reaching across the table, she clasps one of my hands in hers.
“The Joining isn’t anything you need to worry about right this instant,” Lilith says, her tone much softer, warmer. “But you need to know it exists. It’s a ritual the council will expect you and Ryc to undergo.”
“Why?”
“Mated pairs are a symbol,” she answers simply, lifting a single shoulder in a shrug. “Proof the gods aren’t as merciless as we believe. Having a Joined pair lead a country… it gives hope to its people.”
My jaw tightens.
Hope.
Joined pairs, a symbol of hope.
A foolish notion.
Eve scoffs—I daresay she shares the notion.
Lilith ignores her.
I swear these two are like milk and vinegar. When mixed, one is always bound to turn sour. Thankfully, it’s never been anything serious.
For now, at least.
“Today, we’re going to focus on the gifting of silver,” she says with a small smile.
“More gifts?” I ask, arching a brow.
“What can I say?” Lilith laughs, releasing me as she straightens herself in her seat. “Fae may often be verbose tricksters, but sometimes words aren’t enough.”
Her hands linger near the edge of the table, her gift of silver gleaming in a splash of red light. The emerald shines, rendered near black in the light.
Eve’s eyes race to me before darting to Lilith. “He hasn’t even—”
“In due time, Eve,” Lilith interrupts with a rather sing-song cadence. She paints a pleasant smile upon her face. “The intent is to familiarize Ves with the long-standing tradition.”
There has to be a way I can steer today’s lesson in a more favorable direction. If I have to listen to Lilith drone on about the Joining and gifts of silver and rituals… My jaw tightens.
Eve kicks at me, landing a sharp strike against my shin and my eyes and attention snap to her.
“We can survive an hour,” she says, swinging a thumb toward the clock hung above the door.
I can… but no promises Lilith will.
I heave a sigh, releasing the various schemes on silencing Lilith for our duration.
“Will you be participating in the Joining?” I ask and Lilith’s smile falls.
She quickly catches it, propping it upon her lips.
“No,” she answers, her voice rather reserved. “The Joining is for Nektos-chosen mates only.”
And Fenryn isn’t her mate.
“But you’ll ascend as Sovereign Queen of Sol?” I ask, my brows creasing.
With a small sigh, she reinforces the smile on her lips. “As long as the council permits it.”
Perfect, the opening I need.
And it’s too easy to tie my interests to hers.
“I could handle the High Council,” I say, leaning back in my seat as I hold Lilith’s stare. “Were I to learn more about the Sovereign Kings. I could turn your plight into peace.”
I almost laugh at my own words.
Spoken like a true demon.
Across the table, Eve’s dark brows are slow to rise as Lilith laughs.
“How nefariously silver your tongue, Ves,” she says, the spark in her eyes sharp.
“You want me to fight against the council? For you? For Fenryn?” I counter coolly as I lean forward, flattening my hands on the table. “Then arm me. Give me what I need to ensure I can bend them.”
Hazel eyes search my face, scouring for the jest.
But there isn’t one.
“Perhaps the council should understand who they’re thrusting into power against her will,” I add.
Eyes locked on mine, Lilith purses her lips.
“Is this a contract offer?” Lilith asks.
Smiling, I shake my head. “I couldn’t offer you a contract even if I wanted to. No innate, remember? This is more of an exchange between friends. Potentially beneficial knowledge for the potential of a favored outcome.”
If people like Lilith and Rowen are going to use me to their benefit, making it worth my time strikes the same vein. I may not be able to guarantee an outcome—I’m no god—but that doesn’t mean I won’t try.
Of course, all of it’s for naught if the information Lilith shares is utterly useless. Without a contract, I can’t ensure it won’t be.
Sighing, Lilith folds her arms on the table.
“Lilith, I’d like to remind you, contract or not, you’re considering bartering with a demon,” Eve says, her tone edging on patronizing.
“Half demon,” Lilith corrects, lifting a pointed finger. “Let’s not forget she’s half fae.”
Eve shoots her a flat, unamused glare. “Because that makes it better.”
Ignoring her Lilith says, “If you promise to read through this,” she gives The Joining a couple quick taps with a finger, “I’ll answer all your questions regarding the council and the Sovereign Kings.”
Eve sighs the mother of all sighs as she lets her head fall against the back of the chair, turning her stare to the ceiling. Like me, she sees it. She sees Lilith’s terms are less than explicit.
Without giving Lilith time to reconsider, I say, “Consider the deal struck.”
I’m a demon who’s good for her word.
Snatching a leather-bound notebook I co-opted from Ryc’s study weeks ago from the far corner of the table behind me, I turn back to Lilith, snagging a pen from beside her as I fall back into my seat.
Her brows raise as I flip through the first half of the book, pages of thoughts and notes on what little I’ve found on Celesta scribbled inside.
They’re all in Malbolge of course. Writing in common tongue takes longer.
“Notes?” Lilith asks, sounding both surprised and insulted. “You’re willing to take notes now?”
I level a particularly flat glare in her direction as I curl a leg over the other, pitching the notebook against my thigh—ready to write.
“I’m quite studious on topics of interest, Lilith,” I counter and she shakes her head with a small laugh.
Eve, with a smirk, says, “Not interested in fae culture, but interested in fae gossip.”
She earns the same flat stare and her smirk broadens into a grin.
“Start with Ganus,” I say, choosing to ignore her as I set pen to page. “Sovereign King of Battalia, mindreading innate… mated?”
“Yes,” Lilith answers. “Her name is Sophira.”
“How do I distinguish Ganus in a crowd?” I ask. “Hair color, eye color? Any notable physical qualities like scars?”
While I’ve met all the Sovereign Kings before, recalling the appearance of each is rather muddied in my mind. At the time, I felt it a waste to focus on committing each to memory. It didn’t serve me to care.
Now… I have reason.
“Well, it’s been some time since I’ve seen him, but dark haired, violet eyes. Nothing otherwise notable.” Her brows crease before they shoot high. “Oh, he’ll likely be wearing violet, the Lightblossom family color.”
As I finish writing the last of the line, I lift my chin, meeting Lilith’s stare. “And personality, temperament? Anything I can exploit?”
She blinks a few times as astonishment crosses her features and she scoffs a soft laugh.
“I admit, openly discussing things to exploit is somewhat unnerving,” she says, muting the bewilderment in her tone. “I’m afraid to see how the hells’ court functions.”
“Worse than you can imagine,” I retort, tapping the end of the pen against the corner of the book. “Is he quick to anger?”
“No.”
“Know of any vices?”
“No.”
Perhaps I’m getting the sore end of our agreement after all.
“He’s unafraid of confrontation,” Lilith offers, likely to appease the scowl I surely wear. “He and Thalion often argued. Thalion thrived in gray, Ganus adheres to black and white.”
I know exactly the type.
The eldest of Gaia’s children comes to mind.
Zuriel may have helped me escape the hells, but the act was uncharacteristic for the rigid nyraphim.
My pen returns to the page.
That I can use.
“Perfect,” I mutter, mostly to myself. To Lilith I say, “Now, I need all the same details for each of the kings.”
Lilith heaves a small sigh but nods slowly. “Alright,” she says. “Eloric Littleheart, Sovereign King of Renna. The truthteller. Roughly half Ganus’ age. They’re cousins. Not mated.”
As Lilith speaks, my pen flies.