Chapter Seven #2
The warmth of the bedroom proper feels like I’ve stepped into the sun, and Oraphia leaves no moment for my questions as she continues to holler orders to Raevi. As she directs me toward the couch beside the fireplace, I take note of the sky beyond the glass.
The afternoon sky lies untouched.
No souls.
No tears.
I fall into the couch thanks to Oraphia’s shove, and the quarters’ door bursts open, slamming against the wall. Ryc’s wide and wild topaz eyes find mine in less than a heartbeat. A wave of relief floods our bond before it transforms into indiscriminate rage.
It matches the polar anger I felt moments ago.
“What happened?” he roars, storming across the room.
My clattering teeth prevent me from answering.
Ryc pivots, snatching the folded, embroidered blanket from the foot of our bed. He slings it over the back of the couch beside me as he swings himself around. Claiming the seat next to me, he draws me into his warm embrace and his eyes widen.
“You’re frozen,” he breathes, the rage in his tone seconds ago now a much more muted note.
He contorts himself, quickly removing his shirt. And ripping my towel from me, he casts both aside with little care. I’m not left nude for longer than the few seconds it takes for him to wrap us both beneath the blanket.
Curling an arm around me, he draws me as close as possible as I curl my legs onto the couch, and the heat of his skin is like that of the sun itself.
Shamelessly, I cling to him.
He grips my chin, tilting my face to his and claims my lips in a possessive and terrified, yet thankful kiss. As he rests his brow against mine, his chest heaves and his heart pounds beneath my palms.
He’s scared.
Not angry.
Why?
Oraphia too…
Beside the fireplace, to my left, a full-figured blond female rises. I hadn’t even noticed her. She turns, glancing at Oraphia before meeting my stare and quickly lowering fearful brown eyes to the floor.
“It will take a couple minutes,” she says, the timbre of her voice much higher and timid than I anticipated. “But the fire will grow.”
“Thank you, Raevi,” Ryc says and she bobs in a quick curtsy.
“I’ll fetch tea,” she says and streams toward the door.
My eyes linger behind her until they can’t.
I don’t think I’ve ever heard her speak. She’s been Oraphia’s shadow for the last few weeks, learning what it takes to become the queen’s personal attendant.
Oraphia steps into view, assuming the spot Raevi had stood, her hands clasped before her, her stare lowered.
“What happened?” Ryc repeats his demand in a much calmer yet no less relenting tone.
“Lady Ves came in for a bath following your sparring lesson,” Oraphia answers, keeping her eyes downcast. “Drew the bath, left her for no more than ten minutes. When I went to check on her, she wasn’t breathing and the water somehow turned to ice.
To ice, Your Majesty,” she finishes in tight surprise. “I had to use a fire iron to free her.”
My eyes dart to the rack of fire-tending tools on the left of the hearth. The fire iron is indeed missing.
I don’t understand what happened.
I don’t understand how I wasn’t breathing.
“You were dying,” Ryc’s voice, laced with a trembling fear I’ve never heard before, tears through my mind.
“But I’m fine,” I manage through teeth refusing to still. “I’m here.”
I’m alive.
Confused, but alive.
“Thank you, Oraphia,” Ryc says with a firm nod.
Like Raevi, Oraphia bobs in a swift curtsy before retreating from the room. The door clicks shut behind her. For the longest time, the blazing fire becomes the only sound in the room.
Trying to keep my shivering under control, I curl into Ryc and he heaves a relieved sigh—his heart finally starting to slow.
I couldn’t have dreamt it.
The veil, the raven.
Not if Ryc felt it too.
And how could I have slipped into the veil?
I’m no longer a Death Bringer. Nor am I a veilwalker.
Whatever the vibration in my chest had been, it’s gone. No trace of it now. Peering past Ryc toward the balcony, he follows my gaze.
“What is it?” he asks softly, turning back to study me.
“Ryc,” I say, fixating upon the railing where the raven had perched. “The veil wasn’t weakened when Netharis stormed the Moon Temple…”
His brows crease.
As much as I don’t want to speak this curse into the universe, I have to. Not saying anything and being right would be damning. Saying something and being wrong is the ideal outcome in this situation.
I need to be wrong.
Otherwise everyone is in danger.
Meeting Ryc’s stare I say, “It was torn.”
?????????????
I was right.
And Ryc confirmed it.
With his ability to peer into the veil, he saw exactly what I did. It wasn’t a dream or strange, exhaustion-induced hallucination. The veil over Ollora lies torn and souls weave between the two realms.
It must be new… this tear… Ryc searched for them in the days following the eclipse. He found nothing then. Why would a tear appear now? Nothing has forced its way through—no demons at least.
It leads me to believe the veil will continue to weaken until Vaelyn mends it—addresses it. The fact he hasn’t yet is beyond infuriating. He cannot be that busy with the Layer Lords and the hells to neglect his duty in caring for the veil.
I’ve yet to figure out how I walked so close to death—along life’s edge—without a veilwalking ritual. I’m no lich. I can’t slip between the realms of the living and the dead at will. Nor am I ethereal. Not anymore. I’ve a corporeal body, a life.
I’m concerned it’ll happen again.
I can’t help but feel the cold vibration in my chest is somehow tied to it.
I didn’t tell Ryc about the raven. There’s no point. If I saw it while veilwalking, it doesn’t live—not like I first thought.
Ryc remained with me for some time, but eventually needed to meet with Rowen. The other kings need to be made aware. If there are tears here, the fabric of the veil will start to weaken elsewhere. While I understand the need, respect it even, I still argued.
Tried to get him to stay.
There’s nothing we or the other kings can do to address the issue. The veil is Vaelyn’s domain. It’s his responsibility to fix it.
Not mine.
Not Ryc’s.
Not the council’s.
But, giving me those damnable eyes, a swift kiss, and a gentle reminder people need to be warned, Ryc closed the door to my quarters behind him.
And left.
I didn’t expect him to stay.
But I wanted him to.
Instead of being busy with Olloran lords, now he’ll be busy visiting cities throughout Erus, checking the integrity of the veil. A tiny part of me festers. I should have never said anything.
Following his departure and soured by the events of the day, I made less than pleasant company for Eve and Lilith.
Eve, of course, understood without me having to explain.
Lilith, on the other hand, took it upon herself to try and alter my mood with bright smiles and golden laughs and talks about the theatre troupes visiting Ollora. I understood what she was trying to do—provide a lighthearted distraction.
But all it did was remind me of Vaelyn and his behavior any morning following the nights I’d dream of Ryc. Wanting to protect Lilith from my tongue and unkindness, I locked myself in the bathing room and sat on the floor, staring at the tub—trying to make sense of it all.
I do not believe, for one second, Vaelyn doesn’t realize the veil is tearing. Netharis was so acutely aware of the state of the veil, how could Vaelyn not be the same?
A torn veil means anything wandering within the clinging realm can cross into the living realm once again.
Demons, Death Bringers, shadow knights—creatures and entities the veil shields the living realm against. The last thing Ryc—or this realm—needs now is a slew of creatures pouring into Ollora seeking permanent residence.
The veil twists souls who linger.
They become bitter, lost, and hopeless.
The realm is meant to be a gateway, a sluice toward either the heavens or the hells. Not a slow-trickling pool from which Gaia and Netharis draw when the mood strikes. But the gods have bastardized the primordial order as much as they can without breaking it entirely.
They dance within razor-thin margins of plunging the realms into chaos.
“Hey, Ves,” Eve’s muffled voice seeps through the bathing room door as she knocks. “You can come out now. She’s gone.”
Blinking a few times, the tub comes into focus.
My eyes fly to the window.
The sky has grown dark.
I don’t know how long I’ve sat here. But I suppose it doesn’t matter. I pull myself to a stand and turn, unlocking the door. Eve swings it open, stealing the handle from me, offering me a weakened smile as our eyes meet.
She leans her temple against the door. “She said she was going to make a few changes to dinner.” With a sigh and a shrug she says, “I don’t know if she’s coming back. I would wager yes.”
Peering past Eve into the bedroom, I search for the crimson-haired fae. Raevi, on the other side of the room, catches me in my search as she collects the silver tray she brought earlier with tea. But other than her and Eve, the room lies empty.
No Lilith.
No Oraphia.
“Where’s Oraphia?” I ask, growing suspicious.
“She left with Lady Lilith,” Raevi answers, and my suspicion grows.
“Are you on your way to the kitchens with that?” I ask, and the timid fae nods. “Please tell the kitchen staff I’d like to take dinner in my quarters tonight.”
“Of course, my lady,” Raevi says.
Eve sweeps backward toward the quarters’ door, and swings it open, allowing Raevi to leave without hindrance. As I cross the room and throw myself into the couch, Eve closes the door and joins me.
“Everyone is safer if I’m alone,” I say quietly.
I don’t have to temper myself and no one has to endure me.
Eve scoffs a laugh. “I’d argue had you been alone a few hours ago, all of Ollora might be in danger.”
I might have died is what she’s saying.
And Ryc would have reacted—poorly, judging by Eve’s words.