Chapter 14
“Lord Alistair.” I did not think, I only curtsied. I curtsied so low, I did not intend to ever rise again.
Deceit was heavy in my mind, like a stone tied to my ankles in the middle of the sea. Thoughts of Percy fell from me, but that pang hadn’t faded—it lingered on, coiling in my gut, rich with guilt. Perhaps even shame.
In a bow before Alistair, I shivered either from dread or the biting cold of this estate.
Kicking himself off the wall, Alistair towered over me.
“Keeping to the shadows, are we?” His words came to me in that low, sinister growl.
“I was only retiring for the night.”
“Then you heard voices and decided to stay in hiding.” Not a question. I did not answer, so Alistair continued.
“I did warn you, Miss Fallen—white roses cannot hide in the shadows.”
I dared look at him, my heart screaming at me, spewing blood madly in my veins. I blinked a few times over—there was something in his eyes. A fleck of light, so subtle, fading, of silver. It must have been the torchlight, only it flickered more like a star and vanished without a trace, leaving the expected, endless black.
“Are you feeling all right?” He asked, causing my brows to knit. Tilting his head, he glanced at my cheek.
“Where Briarwood struck you.”
My stomach tightened until repentance filled my throat.
I flung out of my curtsy, though I felt I should fall to my knees.
“My lord, I am sorry for the scene this morning. I was brash in my acts. I—”
Jaw clenched, he said my name.
“I am not asking for your apologies. Briarwood should know better than to strike anyone within my estate. I am asking if you are all right.”
I tried to read him, to find the meaning behind his words, but I couldn’t.
“I have shared many days with men who’d do far worse,” I said.
“Not in my estate.” His lips thinned with eyes searching mine.
“Briarwood will never lay a hand on you again.”
As he spoke, I caught a glimpse of something I hadn’t seen before—burdens. They did not pull down Alistair’s shoulders or arch his spine. He stood rigid as stone, but his eyes were laden.
“Are you all right, my lord?”
He opened his mouth, jaw relaxed, then barred his teeth.
“Abandon your title this night, advisor. There have been enough debates and discussions this day.”
“My question does not come from a place of counsel.”
Alistair huffed air in a spirt, half grin rising and falling. He measured me, eyes tight and roving, so I stood still and let him measure me. He wasn’t going to discover anything about me here—I wouldn’t let him.
“Will you tell me?” I hushed.
Black eyes hardened.
“Goodnight, Miss Fallen.”
He stepped to my side, passing me.
In a flurry, I reached out to the god in the dark. Deceit welcomed me, swathing my tongue in sour magic and curdling the air in my lungs. I wrapped my hand around Alistair’s wrist—gods, my stomach turned—and begged in a soft tug for him to join me back in the firelight.
I opened my lips and said with a spell of deception.
“My lord, please. I wish for you to trust me.”
The air reeked, spoiled.
Alistair’s mannerisms softened. The muscles locking his face unspooled, and even the sharp edge of his jaw seemed to dull. Kissed by flames, he came back to me. Through the dark, messy hairs upon his brow, he looked at where I held him and seemed to appraise my hand. Lifting his own, Alistair’s palm pressed against the back of my hand, but my skin didn’t crawl. For a lord cursed by Shadows, his touch was warm. Rough, but warm. Alistair removed my hand.
“You wish for me to trust you?” He asked with a level tone.
“I do. My duty is to your home, to your name, and I wish to aid you in your aims for Andrael. Please.” I blew my breath to him, laced in magic.
“Tell me what troubles you. Let me prove to you—I can be trusted.”
The casing around his mind is thick. Deceit twisted behind my eyes. Your spell is weak.
But he’s still here.
Only be wary in the company of those who commune with the dark, Rhoswen.
Deceit was right—there was no glass upon Alistair’s eyes, no tell indicating the god’s spell was successful, but Alistair still continued.
“After my father’s funeral, I was attacked by men using a Potion of Disguise. Now, I’ve learned Percy had intended to dismantle the elvish slave laws, which would cause my estate—my entire claim in Andrael—to crumble.” He ran his hand through his dark hair, revealing the tension creasing his brows.
“To be honest with you, Miss Fallen, it is a challenge balancing it all.”
I should have been pleased—he gave information and made mention of the potion—but mention of Percy helping the elves… My heart ached. Though still, I laid down my troubles and upheld my oath.
“May I ask you something, my lord?”
Alistair squared his shoulders, marking me from the bridge of his nose.
“Have you not taken enough free information this hour?”
I nodded—guilt, undeniable.
Alistair cocked his head.
“Go ahead, Miss Fallen. Ask your question.”
“This Potion of Disguise,” I began slowly.
“Do you know why it is here in the West? I had not heard of it before coming to your estate. Never seen it.”
“It is a recent concoction created by the alchemists of the king.” He spoke as though the words were difficult to get out, his neck in a strain.
“It was stolen some time ago and is now in differing reaches of Andrael. It being in the West is new.”
“And the users impersonated elves. It all seems so strange.”
“No,” he muttered.
“It is predictable. I am the lord that divides the elvish haven of Ethereum from Andrael. Of course they’d impersonate elves.”
“To what end?”
He laughed hollowly.
“Apparently, my death.”
“Could it have been someone working with Percy?”
“Percy?” Colors washed from his face. A black vein stalked the column of his neck then halted. Shadows.
I stood my ground, but I wanted to run.
Rhoswen, leave, Deceit uttered, but I couldn’t. I needed to know more.
Alistair’s voice scraped his throat, carrying a dark undertone.
“Do not speak of Percival Calhourn, Fallen. If you ask the question, you did not know him.”
A knife twisted in my heart, scraping out a buried memory.
There was a night Percy and I had spent the twilight hours together, counting stars upon the hills outside the Calhourn Estate. Lilacs bloomed in the tepid, spring air, surrounding us with such soft, sweet petals. Percy had held me gently while my fingers mindlessly played with blades of grass. I had asked him about his house, such prying questions, but he never raised his voice. Percy had always given cryptic answers, never the whole truth, but the longer we spent together, the more his walls came down. That night, I felt I truly knew him. I knew there was something more to him.
The knife only burrowed deeper in remembrance of our final dance. I—
Deceit hissed, snatching memories and shoving them down.
You know nothing for certain, the god griped. Lies are abundant in the Dark Era.
The silence drew, myself lessening in the outline of Alistair’s shadow.
“You did know him,” Alistair hushed, drawing me from myself. He lifted his hand to the back of his neck and took a slow breath.
“I was not aware you served his house before this. I heard the guild’s attack was violent. I hope you were spared being witness to Percy’s final moment.”
I led Percy to his final moment.
“We live in an unforgiving era, my lord.”
“I am sorry,” he said gently.
“When we spoke in Tharen Crest, about death—” The word came difficult.
“I did not know.”
I shook my head in hopes of loosening up the tears, so I could swallow them. I hated this. This comfort, speaking to someone who actually knew Percy.
“It is easy for a white rose to be stained, isn’t it?” I asked, broken grinned, perhaps too relaxed in this lord’s company.
“You are not stained,” he hushed.
“I am,” I admitted.
“It is why I prefer to stay in the shadows, my lord. The dark gives nothing away.”
His undereye twitched.
“That is not why you stay in the shadows.”
“I am only trying to live through this age.”
“Fallen, you stay in the dark, because you have something to hide.” It was abrupt—the dark undertone resurfacing.
It pulled me out of any comfort I’d gleaned and reminded me who I stood next to.
A dark lord.
Deceit’s breath swayed within, ancient air slipping out my nose. Uphold your mask, child, the god commanded. His tail circled my throat and broke the dam of tears.
I swallowed them and spilled magic air.
“My lord, I have nothing to hide from you. Trust me.”
No glass touched his eyes.
I anchored in the god, the sour bathing my lungs and tongue. I tried again, an ache coursing through my mind. "I serve your house loyally, Lord Alistair.”
A growling breath came with twisting, black veins.
My spell… It-it was not working.
Alistair cracked his neck.
“Fallen, you make it difficult to divide the lies from the truths.”
Rhoswen, leave.
I barely heard the god.
“I live to serve the Raven house, my lord.”
Nostrils flared.
“I can smell your lies, Fallen.” His face fell pale, and an ebony vein shot up his neck. He turned from me, breaking out of the torchlight, and hissed under his breath.
“Do not speak. Be silent.” Fingers in his hair, Alistair wrenched back the fallen strands, wiping the sweat from his brow.
“My lord?” I hushed, something I could not explain causing me to step to him.
He was distressed.
“Leave, Fallen,” the lord growled at me like a beast. He fell against the wall with heavy breaths, black veins, and a clenched jaw. Bones cracked.
“Do you need me to call for someone?” I asked.
Alistair’s eyes shot to mine, drenched in ink. His lips pulled back, showing teeth.
Rhoswen, you fool, leave him! Deceit called.
The lord stood tall, distress gone, a dark power seeming to keep him upright. He stepped swiftly and untamed. I could not hear his breath and did not see burdens upon him. As he stood before me, drenched in dark magic, my mind was thrown into the pits of the meadery.
Blood splattering. Dead men at my feet. Alistair Raven, mottled in red.
“Why should I trust you?” His voice had changed, fallen low. Unnaturally so.
My words died before they came to fruition, both body and mind, locked.
Smile slithering across his face, Alistair leaned towards me, the black in his eyes eating away any hope, any light. A deep, menacing voice cracked up his throat.
“You should have kept to the dark, Fallen.”
The dark lord reached for me, and in a moment of pure panic, I trembled back. The door behind me, I lost my footing and fell. Before I could catch myself, Alistair chained my arm and pulled me towards him.
I would have preferred to hit the ground.
My cheek smacked his chest. There was an ungodly stillness, giving me a moment to recount my sins. Pray a prayer to the Divine in the Everlaides. Pray for a swift death.
But nothing happened.
Alistair’s breath shuddered against the crown of my head. He removed his hands and stepped back. I looked at him, and the black veins were slipping away.
He whispered.
“Rhoswen, I—”
I tore away, falling into the dark. If I were to cast my voice to him, such would be faceless as I did not turn back. I only ran, leaving this murderer in my wake.
The stones were a blur. My feet were heavy. I half expected him to run after me—get down on all fours and charge. I glanced over my shoulder, and no one was there. Nothing but a stone hallway and shadows twitching in firelight.
I didn’t feel safe, not in his house. So long as I was beneath his roof, I wasn’t safe.
After navigating the infinite halls, I was relieved to find my quarters. Though relief could only be so reaching as a silhouette set against the wall, still and thin as the doorframe.
At my coming, Freya peeled off the wall and stomped her feet.
“Sands, Rhoswen!”
I gave her distance.
Her face was wound so tight, I thought it might shatter.
“You told me to drink the wine and look what happened!” She threw her hands, long arms whipping the air.
“Lord Alistair was attacked while I was passed out in a bloody carriage.”
“You’re remembering it wrong,” I said, trying to care, but I didn’t. At the other end of Alistair’s rage and with thoughts of Percy resurfacing, I couldn’t care.
“Gods, spare me. Tell me—”
“You tell me, Freya, how much do you remember of our carriage ride?”
Freya bit her lip with a scowl winding tighter.
“You do not remember much, do you?” I asked.
“The wine heals, and the wine numbs. Too much wine means too much numbing. What is the easiest way to numb?”
She paused.
“I-I don’t know.”
“Forgetting.” I stepped closer to Freya, lifting my chin to lessen the height difference between us.
“You took the wine from my hands, adamant to drink.”
The lines upon her brows deepened as she pondered.
“I-I did? No, no, I remember, you told me the effects of the bottle do not last. You handed me the wine.”
I sighed and reached out to the god for a second time this night.
You’re weak, my dear, nearing the limits of your strength.
I called upon him regardless, dipping my tongue in curdled taste.
I said in deception.
“You took the wine from my hand.” I gagged on my tongue, becoming sick of the tangy flavor. The sharp pain returned beneath my forehead, the god’s powers taking its toll.
Glass began to coat her eyes, but she still persisted.
“That is not what happened.”
The god and I held each other.
“Yes, Freya. You were insistent to drink.” My mind split in an ache, deep enough it broke into Deceit’s home.
He swatted it away.
The storm in her gaze hardened and froze, becoming glass marbles.
“I’d nearly forgotten,” she hushed. Just as quickly as she conceded to my god’s spell, she came back with vengeance.
“And what is this of you fancying the lord?”
“Gods, I do not fancy him.”
She nearly impaled me with her glare.
“Catriona had said so, Rhoswen. I-I trusted you. Confided in you.”
“Freya, please hear me.” I released my bind to Deceit’s magic, not needing him to convince otherwise.
“I do not care for Alistair Raven. My place in this estate is to be an advisor and nothing more.”
“Then who was Catriona speaking of?”
“Someone from my past. I promise to you—the only care I have for the lord is the same care any advisor is to have.”
Her glass eyes peered into mine, tight and scrutinizing. I let her survey me for as long as she needed, and she eventually nodded and said with a sigh.
“I am sorry to trouble you, Rhoswen.”
“No, please, do not be. With what happened in Tharen Crest, I know we are all a little upset.” I set my hand upon her shoulder.
“I am glad to have your friendship.”
She set her hand upon mine, giving it a soft squeeze.
“As am I. Thank you for understanding.”
Without lingering, we bid each other goodbye, and Freya vanished into the hall.
I threw open my chamber door, shut it at my back—locked the door—and paced the length of my quarters. Alistair’s anger and those twisting, black veins were overshadowed as Percy began to reemerge from silenced memories. Memories that tightened my throat. Deceit reached his claws around my thoughts again, but I slapped at the creature in the dark.
You say you knew nothing. That you didn’t know Percy was helping the elves.
The god gave a low, single-note hum that vibrated my spine.
You really didn’t know?
When Percy held me in my thoughts, Deceit did not reach out, rather he retracted his nails and curled himself along the ripples of my mind, reliving the memory with me. But then, the god resurrected the image of Percy lying on the red-stained stairs. Taison stood above him.
The young Calhourn’s life was to end, Deceit began. The Divine—
Would they know? The High Gods?
A many questions you have for me this night, but the answers are not yours to have. You are of man. I am of gods.
And when have you known me to serve blindly? I bit.
He laughed that strange, hacking laugh. All of mankind has been blind since the dawn of creation. Otherwise, the Dark Era would never have come to us. The more blind, the more amenable and passive, the more willing to serve—be it gods or Shadow. Before I could snap, he continued, I am a god, and you are my servant. Do not forget your place.
I blinked away a tear with a pounding head and rested upon my bed, hoping the upset in my stomach might subside. It didn’t.
Deceit began to hum a melody, far from a lullaby, but it somehow comforted me all the same. Perhaps because the god was all I could hold onto in this cursed estate.
I wanted to strip him from my mind, and yet I did not want him to leave me.
Would you like me to tell you a story? He asked, sprawling out, spine knots spearing my mind, still purring his song.
Something about him made me smile.
I gave a weak chuckle. Your stories always keep me up at night.
It is a story you’ve heard before.
Oh? I asked. How does it start?
Deceit smiled beside me. There once was a maiden, fair and forgiving, set against a man who was condemned for his sinning. Yet, despite the gods’ loathing, the maiden’s heart—
My grin fell, and I swatted at him again. Deceit—
His teeth ground together. The maiden’s heart was weak and willing to fall for he who committed the dark’s bidding.
“Shut it,” I hissed aloud.
My darling princess forgets—though you stand beside those who’d see Andrael fall, you are tasked to deceive, to betray, so the gods might bring light to the day. Do not mourn Percival’s death. Rather, give yourself to your vow.
I do, I threw my voice at the thing in my head.
Then vanquish your tears. Deceit twisted, clawing at memories from only moments ago—Briarwood and Alistair gathered in the hall. You might prove your worth to me this night, for the dark continues to transpire in the estate.
My oath sparked. Briarwood is meeting with Alistair in the library.
I lifted my heavy head and rose from bed, quelling tears as the god commanded, and sat before the mirror. I found my face in the reflection, candlelight trailing my features, and I softened my skin to clay. Began to think of another, my flesh burning.
My day was not done.
Become many faces with many names, the god summoned. Become Deception.
I’d answer the god’s call and uphold my oath.
I’d become Deception.