Chapter 4
I couldn’t shake it—that sting of death’s hand pressing a blade at my neck.
The pub was meant to be a haven, but instead I left in resentment with the shadow of that dagger, that forearm holding me against the wall. Despite serving a god, I felt expendable in this war. It was a mapping of battles greater than myself, expanding throughout the entire realm.
If, or rather when, my death was to come, I am destined to rot in the ground just like the lords I tear down. I did not fear death. What I feared, what left me restless, was when.
According to Deceit, my story might conclude when my father’s head dangles in my hands, when the crown is to shatter. I hated the thought, so I often buried it beside childhood years in the castle. In the deepest place I rarely touched.
Vera and Taison walked beside me through the elaborate manor of gold and burgundy. Roses wrapped around white marble pillars, and glass chandeliers sent thousands of beading lights to ornament the arched ceilings.
Tapestries draped the walls, dividing rooms and creating a webbing of passageways to weave through.
Stitched on each tapestry was a golden tree with a crown circling the stalk—the emblem of the king. From the stalk, two roots unraveled, dedicated to the heirs of the throne. Once bastards, my half-brothers—Knox and Evandor Torrance—rose legitimized upon my alleged death, to carry the weight of royalty I was spared.
Pleasured moans strewed every corner, cloaked behind the veils. Women of Beauty walked past us, their naked breasts accentuated by golden chains and jewels that left a man without the need for imagination. The occasional woman stroked Taison as we passed, their eyes hungry with desire. Vera only held him tighter as his sights went wandering.
I whisked open a curtain at the end of the hall, revealing a young woman. The woman did not startle, did not fear. Her yellow hair draped to the ground, her white gown strung softly from her shoulders to her ankles. Gold adorned her ears, neck, and arms, and speckles of the same kissed her cheeks like stardust.
“What may I do for you?” The Gem asked, her voice smooth as marble.
I neared, speaking hushed.
“We have come for your best. Neither young nor old, but timeless. Neither good nor bad, only sure. Beauty is all we seek, dear sister.”
Her lips curled softly.
“Then you shall have it.”
She took my hand in hers, unnaturally smooth, and led us to another burgundy tapestry. Whisking it back, she revealed a marble wall and pressed her hand against it. A hidden door opened to a darkened passageway.
The Gem stepped aside.
“May the Goddess of Beauty watch over you, child.”
“Thank you, sister.” There was no temptation to offer my god’s good graces. Not many took comfort in knowing who I served. My hand disjoined from hers, and myself, Vera, and Taison fell into the dark.
Candlesticks flickered, affixed and melting into the walls, as the path dragged us downward. I winced in the shadows, my feet occasionally slipping from the edge of another step, swallowed by the dark.
Vera was at my back.
“Get a good look, did you?” She scorned.
“Got an appetite for those Gems up there?”
“Can’t help seeing what’s in front of me,” Taison uttered.
A thwack sounded behind me.
“Keep your head down next time, or I’ll gouge out your eyes.”
He wouldn’t keep his head down. This was a common ballad they tended, ending in a silence that I was eager to reap.
As the foundation leveled, further lights acted as a beacon, and the narrow passage unfurled to a large basement of stone. We were greeted by Gems, who handed us chalices of wine—which I declined—and velvet chairs that matched the brothel’s tapestries, but I kept us walking. I simply needed to rest. Speak with the Guild Leader, get our next target, and rest.
A man tilted his head towards me. His forehead was tattooed with swirls, and he wore tight black attire. When he reached for his chalice nearby, fabric stretched between his arm and ribs—gliding wings. A Volant, server to the Goddess of Wind. Able to summon the breeze and take to the skies. Volants moved as swiftly as the breeze, too, or so I’d heard. I’d never seen a Volant in combat.
Bare skin was traded for tactile garments.
A woman passed, giving Taison a single nod—Moira, a fellow Bloodletter. She may have challenged Taison in height, standing nearly twice my own, but she had him beat in muscles.
I feared the Bloodletters and their gods, Taison no exception. It was an odd coupling they revered—the God of Carnage and the Goddess of Wisdom. After a kill, the Bloodletter absorbed any remnants of the victim’s vitality, giving the Bloodletter increased strength with a red glow in their eyes. They, too, became more bloodthirsty with each kill. After some moments when the spell diminished, their eyes resumed their original colors.
Bloodletters were often summoned near the end of a mission. The discreet, such as myself and Vera, ventured in to learn and manipulate a house. Then, once our work was complete, the Bloodletter swept in for the killing.
It had taken years to fortify this cult.
The guild continued to grow and learn, as the gods’ influence in the lands remained new. Once the king declared God Servers to be treasonous, we were damned to wallow beneath the ground.
In thanks to the king’s command, the Guild of the Gods created a front—a brothel where those of wealth and power found solace in recreation. Time had proven that the harder the man was, the looser his secrets. Standing before a woman sworn to the Goddess of Beauty, men indeed had loose lips.
A Gem plucked a harp, sending a soft melody to lull our afflictions.
I approached the leader of the cult—a woman with beauty so infinite, skin so pure, my stomach turned, unsettled. Her porcelain skin lay so delicately, I thought she might shatter at the prick of a needle. Her eyes were glass, pale blues concealing a sky embellished with stars.
Gems—servers to the Goddess of Beauty, ornamenting the realm of Andrael with a splendor it did not deserve.
When I came to her side, her cold hands met my back, and her ethereal voice polished my ears.
“Rhoswen, sister. I am thankful to see your return.”
“Hello, Gwendolyne.”
She walked us to a round table clothed in ivory.
“My sisters have told me another lord has fallen at your hand,” Gwendolyne said.
Taison huffed.
Her lips curled, though markings did not touch her skin.
“All of you have done well.” Gwendolyne’s feet clinked against the marble flooring as she took her seat, and we followed suit.
“You seek another man to lure to the sands of Oldurem?”
I nodded, weariness exaggerating the bow of my head.
“If the gods desire it. We are at their will.”
“The gods have many desires, dear Rhoswen. We serve in gratitude for their pardon on our lives.”
Gratitude. If Gwendolyne were to linger past the courtesan walls, I doubt she’d utter words of gratitude.
“Of course. Who is our contact?” I asked.
Gwendolyne’s porcelain fingertips clinked her chalice.
“Eager, sister?”
“Only desperate for rest.”
“Rest will find us once evil is plucked from the realm.”
I refused the formality she offered, my brows tensed in pleading—begging for a name marked by fate, so I might lay my head to sleep.
Gwendolyne’s perfection did not falter. She turned to Vera and Taison.
“Please, leave us. Rhoswen’s new lord is to be her work alone.”
“Alone?” Vera asked.
“What do you mean alone?” When Gwendolyne did not answer, Vera shot up, throwing the chair out from under her, and barked.
“You can’t send her off by herself. We’ve always worked together! She is my sister, and you will not separate us.”
Gwendolyne’s expression was sculpted, unbending.
“Dearest Vera, you wield a heart of fire. A fierce soul of convictions. The gods are good, and your path will lead you into further blessings, so long as you remain obedient. You will take time to rest. As will you, Taison. Give yourselves freely to the other and relish in rejuvenation. The Goddess of Beauty commands it.”
Taison stood, his finger draping down Vera’s arm.
“If the goddess has decided, who are we to deny?”
I’d seen this act before. He only yearned for what Vera could offer him in times of rest.
Vera seized my hand.
“But you will call for me if anything happens, won’t you?”
I smiled as best I could.
“Yes, Vera. Always.”
“Are you not frightened?”
“I am far too tired to be. It’s okay.” I squeezed her hand, and they left, Vera giving Gwendolyne a final glare before turning the corner.
Gwendolyne pressed her chalice before me.
“Drink, sister.”
It was wine crafted by the Goddess of Beauty—a sweet elixir to heal wounds, both of mind and flesh. But it was my sorrows that I did not yearn to numb.
“I am not thirsty.”
“Let the goddess quench your pain,” she insisted.
“Not this day, Gwendolyne.”
“You mustn’t deny the goddess’s gift, child. Drink.”
With a final hesitation, I set the chalice’s brim to my lips. As soon as I sipped, the wine melted away the weariness in my heart and cured any physical ache. I sighed in relief, and the anguish of Percy’s passing vanished into the chalice.
“Even when I found you as a child, nearing the Everlaides…” Gwendolyne paused.
“You have never given yourself to rest. A child, bleeding in the streets, no memories of your past, and still you could not lie down.”
No memories, Deceit purred. My servant deceiving the god’s chosen themselves.
I tipped my cup.
“That was a day I gladly drank Beauty’s wine.”
“Indeed. The Goddess of Beauty healed you, Rhoswen, but you are now so quick to refuse her. Her healing. Her peace.”
I tried to hold my face kindly.
“Regardless of what numbing the wine brings, pain is still pain, love still love, and hatred still hatred. I do not mean to be offensive in refusing your gift. I only prefer not to mask my own feelings. I already wear so many masks.”
“I know, child.” Gwendolyne took my hands.
“Your blessings in secrecy are invaluable, though I know this carries weight. The God of Deception favors you, and I am beginning to doubt I’ll ever meet another chosen by him. But I wish I would. I do not want you to carry this alone.”
But you are not alone, Deceit hushed.
“I am not alone, Gwendolyne. You gave me a home when I had none. Then, you rose up this guild and gave me a purpose.”
“Yet I feel I have failed you.”
“You have not failed me, Gwendolyne. Why would you say this?”
“I teach women the art of seduction. To use men’s weakness for their own gain. Vera has learned well, my Gems have learned well, but you—Rhoswen, the art of seduction requires a protection of the heart. That is where I have failed.”
“Heart?” I asked.
“The practice of deception does not entail a heart.”
“Rhoswen, I would like to discuss Lord Morrigan’s son.”
The effects of the wine dulled as though the magic diluted in my blood.
“What of Percy?” I asked.
Gwendolyne sighed—she was not one to sigh.
“There were rumors of a young woman with dark hair, swooning over the young heir. I understand that was your purpose, only my reports claimed it did not appear a ruse.”
I took a gulp of numbing wine.
“Or perhaps my deception is maturing.”
Gwendolyne shook her head, her perfect lips downturned.
“The Goddess of Beauty favors the heart and understands the splendor passion offers. I only wish—for your sake—you would have been spared from it. Spared from desire. Spared from passion.”
“Nothing I have done has hindered the gods’ work. My purpose remains with them.”
“I know. Please, do not mistake my words for accusations. You have been a devoted server since you were a child. I took you under my wing, set you in my home beside the Gems, and at each house, you have successfully seduced the lords. But that changes now.”
I spoke plainly.
“You do not trust me.”
“The heart is unpredictable, and I believe it to have layers. The more layers torn away, the more unpredictable the heart becomes. I aim to keep you safe. Safe from the crown and safe from yourself.”
Deceit churned in my mind. But she does not know the two are in the same hand.
“I am safe, Gwendolyne. My god protects me.”
She tilted her head.
“Indeed, the gods protect us all.”
“What can you tell me of my next contact?” I asked, more curt than I meant to.
Gwendolyne’s face hardened.
“Two have been marked by fate. A father and his heir.”
“What do you know of them?”
“Cruelty pulses from their blackened hearts, just like the rest of the lords in our age. Lord Eadric himself is wicked and unjust. The heir, Alistair Raven, has been known for cutting down threats without adequate cause.”
My lips fell open, but no words came. I bent the chalice’s stem in my ever-tightening grasp.
Gwendolyne continued.
“Eadric is elderly, so I do not anticipate him being of great issue. The son is still in his prime. I have heard he is strong and merciless, scorning and brandishing good names if he is even offered a distasteful look. There are rumors that Eadric does not believe Alistair is adequate to take possession of the West. Who else may hold interest, I do not know.”
“Did I mishear, or did you say Raven?”
Gwendolyne’s glass skin was undisturbed.
“It is the will of the gods, child.”
My low laugh twisted with the brim of my drink.
“Have I done the gods wrong? Do they wish for my death? Raven is the greatest lord of the realm. He controls all the western lands!”
Gwendolyne was unfazed by my fret, her face calm. She surveyed the surroundings as though spies lingered in the walls and leaned closer, whispering.
“Listen well, Rhoswen. The realm is becoming increasingly skeptical of the company they keep. There have been rumors of those with talents to alter their faces in lands apart from where you have been.”
Deceit’s breath rasped.
“The God of Deception has no other servants.”
“My ladies discovered a man stole a potion from King Paden, its effects to change appearance. We cannot say if the Raven Estate is behind this, but we speculate that they hired this man to claim the potion. Rumors have been growing in the West, talk of men taking on new faces or appearing where they are not. This is of great threat—the greatest house in the lands, given the power to change their appearance.”
“But why would one of the king’s lords betray the crown?”
“Have you ever known men to be satisfied?”
“No. Men and greed know each other well.” I looked at the wine in my cup.
“So, what does this mean for me? You wish me to find the potion?”
“Yes. We intercepted a letter from Lord Eadric stating he has need for new counsel. Your reputation as an advisor has been growing lately—we do not see the need for you to adopt an alias, though that time may come soon. For this house, we will use your reputation to secure your place in his estate.”
“Does the crown know my name?”
“We do not believe so. And we will ensure a new name before such happens. Know that Eadric has kept his estate thin, his allies few. He is weary to trust anyone. I fear his desire to grow his advisors aligns with his motives to gain further control of the West. Eadric divides the elvish haven from the rest of Andrael, so the elves and potions might be related. If we can weaken man’s claim on the West, and the elves can journey further into Andrael, we might unite and bring down this age of Shadows.”
I pondered aloud.
“Eadric may use his position to press the elves back to their realm of Caelithien. And he’d use this potion to aid in his ambitions.”
“Yes, we believe so. Find the potion, find the recipe, and learn why the Ravens have interest. Unveil what plans they conjure for the elves. Once you have learned all you can, you will prepare for Taison’s arrival, and he will end the house.”
All this—the most powerful lord in Andrael, his cruel son, potions, and face-changers. It was too much.
“Is there anyone I can trust in the West?” I asked.
“Another guildmember resides at the estate. He has been there some time, collecting information and sending letters upon the Goddess of Wind’s currents. Hendry Baird, disciple to the God of Sight.”
“Yes, I know him.”
Hendry was a peculiar man. Though his service remained to Sight, his eyes and the thoughts beneath always seemed far away.
“He will aid you and watch you. Do not fall into your practice of seduction, protect your heart, or we will know.”
She doesn’t trust me, I uttered to the god, gulping another sip of wine.
Well, darling, you are not trustworthy.
Perhaps because I have the God of Deception in my mind.
And what a great pair we make, Deceit crooned, dragging a nail beneath my skull.
I pinched the table’s low-hanging fabric, rubbing my fingers together and focusing on the textures, pacing my words as I beheld her starry eyes.
“Gwendolyne, this—you are tasking me with the most dangerous region in the realm, to be with the most corrupt lord in the realm, and I am not to rely on my deception to seduce. I have spent years practicing this.”
“The gods have spoken, child,” was all she said to my fears, but it wasn’t enough.
“Rhoswen, stay vigilant, be wary, be cunning. You leave tonight.”
“Tonight?” I nearly fainted there.
Gwendolyne lifted her fine brows, and her voice carried a kind tune.
“Stay here today for rest. I will have more wine poured, and your belongings will be waiting for you.”
“I am to travel the wood alone in the dead of night?”
Gwendolyne drew a feather of white from beneath her sleeve, twirling it in her hand.
“Take this with you.”
I plucked it from her fingers, my eyes chasing every thread of twine around the shaft. Pure white.
“This is a feather from the Goddess of Fate.” I had not seen this token since the day I fled through the brambles of white roses.
“It is. The goddess has been witnessed, soaring over Sariem in recent days, both virtuous white and damning black feathers raining from the sky, prophesying life and death.”
I let the feather slip through my fingers.
“It does not serve me. This token is not sewn to my fate.” Only if the plume had fallen from the Everlaides and upon my shoulder would I be either burdened or blessed.
Gwendolyne’s fingertips knocked on the table as she lifted the feather, setting it in my palm, and securing it beneath my fingers.
“Take it as an omen of favor, Rhoswen. The gods watch over us.” Once more, she declared.
“You will leave tonight. The gods deem it so.”
The gods who surely yearned for my death.
Deceit spoke to my thoughts, You are no victim in this place, child. Your fears are petty.
“If the gods deem it so,” I sighed.
“So then, it shall be.”
…
I wandered the courtesan house without purpose. Rest had lost me to loud thoughts, so I escaped to the courtyard, seeking the quiet. The walls stood at all four sides, a continuation of white marble pillars towering around me. A stone fountain was stationed in the center of a pool where the Goddess of Beauty faded in the weak daylight. Though the goddess was carved of stone, her extended hand appeared as gentle as velvet.
Sitting upon the pool’s edge, I dipped my fingers in and rustled the icy waters, capsizing nearby petals.
Deceit’s voice roiled. Your mind is tense, child, like a boulder in your skull.
Gwendolyne said others have been changing faces. I have not stood before one whose craft matches mine. I fear my fate.
His breath filled me, pouring out my own nostrils, smelling mossy and ancient. I have felt your fear since inhabiting your mind twelve years ago.
“Sister?”
I turned to find those juniper eyes.
Vera sat beside me, wrapping her arm around me.
“I have heard you are leaving for the Raven Estate. I cannot believe the gods are demanding you leave alone. Of all the houses in this bloody realm…”
“Hendry will be there, so I will not be entirely alone.”
Vera panted a slug of air.
“Being alone and being beside Hendry are one and the same, Rhoswen. I do not doubt his loyalty to the gods, but he cannot protect you from the cruelty of those damn lords.”
“No, but Deception can.”
The god mocked me with a raspy laugh.
I ignored him and hugged Vera.
“I will return before I am missed.”
She spoke into the strands of my hair.
“Do not lie to me, for I already miss you.”
Lies. In a realm where truths were slim, Vera deemed myself her shred of purity, of honesty. But my lies for Vera began the day we had met all those years ago.
My love for her was boundless, though my truths were portioned.
The royal blood in my veins was only known to the gods of the Everlaides—Vera rather believed my family died of fever when I was a child. And all of Andrael was oblivious that a god was housed within my mind. In early years with Deceit, I had asked others if they felt their god within, but I was only given skewed faces and inquisitive questions. Others found it odd that he spoke to me. From what I understood, if a god spoke to their Chosen, it was a pull—some tether evoked by emotions or passion, though never words. So I stopped asking and left this creature in my mind, mine alone. I cannot claim I had yearned to confide in Vera. She had a difficult time keeping secrets, if she tried keeping them at all.
A tear trailed down Vera’s cheek.
“I could join you, still. Gwendolyne doesn’t have to know.”
I smiled at her but kept my tone stern.
“The gods would not be happy with defiance.”
“Slumber is too busy gifting nightmares. He wouldn’t even notice.”
“Evidently, Hendry is to report anything suspicious about me, so the guild would be made aware as soon as you arrive.”
“Report on you?”
I nodded in my shame.
“I have been instructed not to seduce the lords and find a potion to change faces.” I continued in response to Vera’s blank stare.
“The crown created an elixir to alter appearance, and there have been rumors of it in the West. Gwendolyne believes the Raven Estate might be using it to gain more control.”
“You’ve been instructed not to seduce?” Her blankness then morphed into a grin.
“That is for the best. You’re too damn tender towards these ruthless men. And a potion to alter appearance?” She knocked my shoulder.
“You’ve got this one in the bag, love. No face-changer can outwit my Rhoswen.”
“Then why do I feel afraid?”
“Obviously, it’s because I will not be with you. I still have half a mind to follow you west.”
I still denied Vera, not knowing how the guild might reprimand disobedience.
“It is best you stay and keep Taison company.”
A laugh rippled up her throat.
“You don’t care about me keeping Taison company. You’ve hated the man since you met.”
“Something of watching him kill twenty men in one night gives me reserve.”
Vera lifted her hands and wiped away her fallen tears.
“Gods, it doesn’t matter how much we speak of it—I care for him, and you loath him. Let’s not spend our last moments bickering.”
“I’m sorry, you’re right.”
Vera smiled a solemn smile.
“I’m always right.”
And our frail snickers were in disharmony with the aching of our hearts.
…
“You promise you will call for me if anything happens?”
The starlight was hidden behind the clouds of dusk. I knew the moon hung high above us, but it too was absent this night. Vera’s strands of fire were smothered like the coal of embers.
I clenched her forearms.
“If anything happens, I will send you letters upon the goddess’s winds. I promise.” I marked Taison, who looked far below himself towards me. He was a giant amongst men—not even the backdrop of Sariem’s grand walls could change this.
“You will keep her safe?” I begged the slayer to be a savior.
Taison nodded with a grunt.
Vera huffed.
“You know I don’t need anyone to keep me safe.”
Skye neighed in anticipation, wearing the saddle that promised freedom to ride into the night. I gazed at the wood, gathering courage to venture back into the unknown. Alone.
Even when no souls surround you, I am here.
The god’s presence did not offer the same comfort as she who had stood by my side through every estate we’d dare tear down. Always together, never without.
Taison stepped forward, planting his feet at Skye’s side.
“Listen, Rhoswen,” he uttered, voice laced in ice.
“We all know what that Calhourn meant to you, and—”
“He meant nothing,” I said with a contracting heart.
A smirk crawled across his lips.
“If I hear you’ve fallen for another damn traitor to the gods, I won’t be so forgiving. We nearly lost our footing in the Calhourn Estate, and Carnage does not know mercy. I will gladly misplace mercy.”
Bloodlust flickered in his eyes.
“Oh, gods, Taison!” Vera leaped forward and sent a fist to his arm, Taison cutting his attention to her.
“All those men die in the end, and that’s what matters. Touch a hair on her head, and—”
“And what?” Taison interrupted.
“Hm, remind me, what little critters do you fear most?” She hummed, and he growled.
“Oh, that’s right—bloody eels, yeah? So, touch a hair on her head, and I’ll make your dreams infested with them. You’ll be swimming in a sea of them, nice and slimy, until Rhoswen says you can wake up.”
Taison’s shoulders rolled as he let out a disgusted breath, snarled, and gave me a final death-bound glare. Vera wedged herself between us, tussling my cloak, and wrapped her arms around me. Warm water drenched my shoulders.
“I will miss you.” My words broke through the tears.
Vera nearly stole my breath as she tightened her embrace.
“Be vigilant, be cunning. May the gods watch over you, sister. And don’t worry about Taison,” she hushed.
“I’ll keep him in check. No one hurts my Rhoswen.”
I let loose a giggle.
“May the gods watch over you, sister.” I cradled her wet cheeks in my hands for a moment. As we divided, her warm tears turned to callused ice that burned my palms.
My leg flung over Skye’s saddle. I wiped my tears that continued to flow, then clasped the reins with feeble strength. With a final glance at Vera, I turned towards the endless wood masked in the dark.
Only a gentle knock against Skye’s ribs, and she strode mightily into the night.
Before I fell into the void beyond the king’s lands, Vera called to my back.
“I love you, sister!”
I turned to see her one last time, but everything had vanished into shadow. I could only watch the hairs of Skye’s mane and the bark of the trees we sped past.
Smooth birch soon traded for jagged bark and knotted trunks. Branches folded above me and pierced through the mist of nightfall. Threatening the laid path, roots ruptured the ground. Consuming me whole, the ancient laurel trees stood as an army around me. The air thickened.
Upon this night, I left all I knew to stand beside the greatest lord of this era. To be amongst those who’d brandish me a traitor, a heathen. A soul they’d crave to devour and consume, so man might reign in the Age of Gods.
And I was to do so alone.
You are not alone.
The god’s voice drew into echoes as the thumping of hooves rebounded in the ancient wood. With no stars above and no fires below, I tread near blindness.
I tread near blindness into my impending demise.