Chapter 19
The Andraelian prince memorized me, reading me as he would a tome in the castle’s library. There was a forest of knowledge in him—I could see it clearly in the green shielding his eyes. In my early years, I remember Evandor rooted in the castle library—an elaborate collection of a thousand spiral bookcases. Dark incantations, elvish magic, potions, war strategy, ancient texts, history.
Evandor’s nose pinched at the end from all the days he spent buried in books.
“I look forward to knowing you in the coming days,” Evandor said, voice well practiced.
“You will be joining us in Tharen Crest tomorrow?”
I frowned at Alistair.
“Your Highness, an invitation has yet to be extended.”
Evandor caught sight of the Raven Lord over his shoulder.
“Consider my word your invitation, Miss Fallen. All advisors are to be present to discuss strategy now that the guild has fallen.”
“It will be an honor to discuss our king’s victories beside the prince himself,” I charmed.
Deceit pooled back into my mind. His fingers twisted within, and his eyes scraped against mine. He tallied souls until he noticed the prince—the god’s gaze locked upon those green gems in Evandor’s eyes. His fingers then withdrew only to tap my skull in arrhythmic cadence.
Your brother is fated to die, he said.
I tried cramming Deceit further back, but he was as stubborn as he was deceptive.
Evandor tilted his jaw, caramel hair waving over his brow. He tucked the strands behind his ears, turned from me, and took Alistair by the shoulder and headed for the doorway.
“Not to sour your festivities with talk of business, but have you heard anything of the amulet?” He asked Alistair.
Glancing over his shoulder, Alistair gave me a look that could mean either nothing or a thousand words. I would never know. Not as his face adopted austerity, chiseled to stone.
Alistair took his black eyes and set them upon the prince.
“Ravens have been sent to renowned scouts in the midrealm,” he said.
“I have yet to receive a reply.”
Evandor sighed.
“I was hoping for better news before our meeting. The matron is growing restless. Hours on end, she sits upon her incantations, but the light remains unseen by the Shadows.”
The matron? I asked. Isn’t that the woman who stood by Knox?
Dark forces are at play. Be it with the crown, a matron, or the server of Deception herself.
Memories of black veins came to me. I don’t know what happened. I felt like I couldn’t control it.
The god said nothing.
Lucien abruptly spoke, startling me, and claimed the attention of the entire grand hall.
“Your Highness, Prince Evandor,” he said with heavy feet striking the tiles.
“It is an honor to be in your company.” His spine cracked in a bow, and he whisked his plait to his back.
“And you are?” Evandor asked, brows raised.
Hand to heart, Lucien bowed again.
“I am Sir Lucien Brine.”
“Ah, yes, I know your name. You have contacts in the castle, as I understand it.”
“Indeed, and I have been a trusted advisor for this house since the late lord first set foot upon these grounds. Man of mercenaries, hearer of rumors.”
“I’m sure,” Evandor said curtly and continued towards the doorway.
Lucien kept to his side.
“Stories say that the amulet is hidden in the East. A man is rumored to have seen an echo of the light and gone blind from its stunning.”
This gave the prince pause.
“Who gave you this information?”
“Faceless whispers, Your Highness. Though I have found whispers often become loudest as one nears the source.”
“You have no name?” Evandor asked, patience thin, not looking Lucien in the eyes. He looked at a ball of twine he was making between his fingers instead.
“No,” Lucien admitted.
“But it is wise to follow rumors to determine if they hold any truth.”
I did not care for the laugh Evandor gave or the fox grin across his face.
“Lucien, do I look like a man in need of enlightenment?” The prince asked, flicking away the ball of twine.
Lucien swallowed a lump in his throat with shallow cheeks sinking deeper.
“No, sire.”
“Then do not waste your breath on anything apart from facts. Should I feel inclined to chase whispers, I will do so on my own accord. Not persuasion.”
Lucien fell ashen.
“Of course, Your Highness.”
Evandor’s eyes rolled in their sockets.
“Come, Alistair. We have much to catch up on.”
The raven and the crown vanished around the corner, followed by five soldiers in gilded armor. Conversations began to lull.
“Rhoswen?” A sweet voice said from behind.
My real smile hatched before I saw her.
“It is good to see you, Maisie.” I held her in my arms, and she shivered.
“Maisie, what’s the matter?” I asked, stroking back her black hair.
“You felt it, didn’t you?” Her voice shook in a whisper.
“The Shadow?”
I had yet to understand the depths of her seer eyes. Even if I did understand, I would have been honest.
“Yes,” I said.
“I believe it has come to me numerous times in recent days.”
She reached out and held my hand tightly enough that my blood pounded in my fingers.
“What had happened?” She asked, breath quick.
“I thought I saw it nearly disappear within you. Then, it fled, though I don’t know why.”
I knew why. A dark lord used an incantation to chase away the Shadow—I kept Alistair’s magic to myself, because I had yet to understand it.
“I am not sure what happened. I only felt it suddenly leave.”
Maisie’s sandy eyes reddened.
“I worry for you, Rhoswen.”
“Do not worry for me. I have encountered many strange things in my life, never to succumb to them.” I almost offered Maisie solace that the gods watched over me—my death would be swift.
“Maisie, can I ask you something?”
She sniffled.
“Of course.”
“Do you know who Amelia was?”
Her raw gasp sent a knot to my stomach.
Maisie’s wavering complexion fell.
“Why would you ask this?”
“Do you remember we spoke of the statues? That they communicate?”
“It is she who speaks to you?” Maisie’s eyes bulged. I nodded, and she spoke in a hasty hush.
“Do not ask of her and do not visit the grave. Forget of her, Rhoswen, and never speak of her. The last time her name was mentioned, the lord was overcome by the Shadows. Three men died that day.”
“But who is she, Maisie?”
“We do not speak of her.”
“Rhoswen, darling, you’ve returned!” Catriona wedged herself between her sister and me, smelling of wine, and strangling me in a hug while she gathered balance. Wine sloshed from her glass to my gown.
“Gods, I thought you might not come back, but I’m glad you did. The lord was irritable these last couple of days.”
Vera’s red hair sprang behind Catriona’s shoulder.
I wanted to show my teeth and run Catriona away—to finish my conversation with Maisie—but I bit down my annoyance and kindly said.
“It is good to see you, Catriona.”
Catriona belched. My lips fell with a scrunched nose, and she slurred.
“Your sister tells me you fought off savages! That you took down twenty all by yourself.”
“Vera.” I glared at those juniper eyes.
“Oh, I’m just having a bit of fun, that's all. Look at her.” Vera motioned towards Catriona, who only laughed and laughed.
“She won’t remember a thing in the morning.”
“Oh, I’ll remember, don’t you worry!” Catriona twirled her finger and pressed her index finger against the bulb of Vera’s nose.
“Say, Rhos.” I tensed at my short name.“Why waste your time with the lord, eh? It seems the prince has an interest in you.”
Vera’s ears perked.
“Ah? So Rhoswen fancies the lord?”
“Sands, no! Gods, I’m not supposed to say anything.” Catriona feigned a cry.
“Rhoswen, I am just awful with your secrets. I am so sorry.”
Maisie set her hand upon Catriona’s shoulder.
“Sister, should you go lie down?”
Catriona yanked away from Maisie.
“Bullocks, sister, I’m fine!” She whipped her russet braid and gave me wide eyes.
“Rhosie, can I tell you something? Something just awful and terrible, the news may just kill me.”
I sighed.
“What is it, Catriona?”
She huffed and puffed.
“Earnest says he thinks of me like a sister!” Her head fell into the bend of my shoulder with tears as wet as her drool.
“He bloody kissed me last week in the library, and now… Gods, I am a fool.” She threw herself backwards, nearly falling over.
“Catriona,” I hushed.
“Do you not think it is best to go lie down?” Magic stirred, my breath sour.
Vera gave a devious smile, and Catriona’s eyes turned to glass.
“You wish to go lie down,” I uttered once again.
Catriona looked beyond anything in the room and slowly nodded.
“Yes, yes, I think I do.”
Deceiving her was easy—she was drunk and heartbroken. I could have told her that she was a dragon, and she might have believed me, running about the estate flapping her arms like wings.
With glassy eyes, Catriona left. After some sloppy steps, the edge of the door caught her foot, and, with a yelp, she tumbled into the shadows of the hall.
“Gods, I’ll go help her.” Vera left my side.
Maisie chuckled.
“Gods, how did you manage that? Whenever Catriona is intoxicated like that, she becomes belligerent, always refusing to lie down.”
“I have a knack for being persuasive,” I deadpanned.
Maisie’s lips tugged downward with a sigh.
“You will tell me if you grow unwell, won’t you? I hate to see you tempted by the Shadows that haunt our lord. There are not many good people in this realm, Rhoswen, and your company has brought me great relief in this place.”
I looked at Maisie, and grief overcame me. She was kind, caring, and burdened. She hadn’t asked for this life, steeped in darkness.
“Do you ever think you’ll leave the estate?” I asked.
A tear accompanied her smile and wondering eyes.
“I dream of it every day. I want to live a peaceful life, far from the western valleys.” She paused for a moment before leaning closer and whispering.
“I have heard Caelithien is truly breathtaking.”
I took her hand in mine.
“That is a beautiful dream, Maisie. One I share in.”
“You wish to venture to the elvish lands?”
“I do,” I hushed with a soft smile.
She spoke surprised.
“I only assumed, since you’re an advisor, you wouldn’t want to leave Andrael.”
“The world is too great to only wonder what is out there. I want to see it with my own eyes.”
“Do you believe your dreams are out of reach?” She asked with falling lips.
“That perhaps the gods gave you someone else’s?”
“Do not lose heart, Maisie. The age of man has not ended yet.”
She tucked her chin, speaking shyly.
“Perhaps the gods will spare us.”
“I can only hope.”
Maisie studied me for a moment, a soft curl taking one corner of her lips.
“You pray, don’t you?” She asked.
I wanted to tell her yes, but I fell silent. I couldn’t risk it.
Her gaze fell to the ground, her toes shifting along the tiles.
“You don’t have to say. I sometimes do. I only hope they can hear me.”
I rose her gaze, lifting her chin.
“I have faith that someone hears our pleas.”
Maisie’s smile was striking.
“I thought you might.”
“Sister.” Vera returned with a slump to her back, legs heavy, yawn lasting.
“Please show me to your quarters. I am exhausted.”
I hugged Maisie, speaking softly.
“Keep your dreams close to your heart, Maisie. You never know where fate might take you.”
My arms traded from Maisie to Vera, Vera’s weary tug urging me through the grand hall.
“Miss Fallen.” Lord Briarwood tucked his chin, bidding me a haunting goodnight.
Vera and I stalked the hallways.
“I do not have a good feeling about that Briarwood fellow,” Vera said.
“What had you discussed tonight?”
I squinted in the dark, counting hallways as I guided us back to my quarters.
“He says you being here is quite the coincidence, since it is the same night the guild fell.”
She snorted.
“I guess they aren’t all daft, are they?”
“You need to be careful here, Vera. These men are the king’s chosen, meticulously selected. Tharen Crest is on the cusp of elvish lands, standing as a fortress between them and the king. This estate is not like those before. They are damn cunning and wise. Evil, but wise.”
“You’re not actually frightened by them, are you?”
“No, it is not fear. More that I am challenged.” Though I did not know if that was true. Each day, living in this place left me with more questions that refused answers.
“Well then, I am glad it is you and not I. I get bloody bored with the challenges.”
Vera and I fell into the solitude of my room. At the mirror, she bent forward, detangled her hair, and tied it into a coiled mess.
“I should like to see Tharen Crest tomorrow,” Vera said, stealing a nightgown from my wardrobe, and scoffed to the worry upon my face.
“Don’t worry, I’ll behave myself. My tongue is tender from biting it all night, but I can manage another day. Besides, if you all bore me with talk of politics and killing, I’ll fetch an ale with my new drunkard friend.”
I sat upon my bed.
“Vera, it is already dangerous bringing you here, but with Briarwood’s speculations and the prince accompanying… I did not bring you from one danger only to fall into another.”
She smirked.
“I’ll just pucker my lips and kiss them all senseless.”
“Vera, this is not a joke.”
“That is what you’d like to do, is it not? Kiss your new lord?”
I groaned. “No.”
“I can tell when you’re lying,” she harped.
“A little twitch of your right brow. Gods, perhaps I should serve Deception. You’ll serve Slumber, then you can finally kiss your lord and call it an act of the gods.”
Deceit crept from the dark. I would rather watch humanity burn than have her avow to my name.
I believe you’d simply prefer humanity to burn, would you not?
Only those with black hearts are destined to befall to the gods’ wrath. Lord Alistair is a paragon of such. Deceit clicked his tongue against his teeth. Though your friend is unbearable, I believe she speaks the truth. I can feel the tense of your heart as you consider his death.
Vera disrupted the outer silence.
“I only fear for you, sister.” She nestled beside me, tucking her legs beneath the covers.
“Though Percy was a foul, disgusting, and cruel man, I know you cared for him.”
My fingers rubbed the quilt.
“Did you know he was working with the elves of Caelithien to tear down the slavery barters?”
She laughed her low, uncanny laugh.
“That is impossible. We heard what both he and his father thought of the elves. There is a special place in Oldurem for his kind.”
“Briarwood had said—”
Vera made a disgusted grunt.
“Don’t believe everything you hear, love. Especially from a wicked man like that.”
“What if—” I bit my lip.
“What if we were wrong about him? What if the gods were wrong?”
“If Percival was trying to help the elves, which I really don’t believe, it does not matter if there was a small oversight.”
I would never consider the death of a man an oversight.
“He could have defied the king and perhaps started an uprising,” I said.
“Given the people courage to rebel against the crown.”
“You sound like a bloody diplomat, saying Percival’s life needn’t end.” Her brows furrowed.
“And who are you to question the gods? You are spending too much time with these men. Do not forget it is those damn heathens that killed our brothers and sisters.”
My mind was flooded with imagery of the fallen guild, all stained in red. I had no strength to argue, though I could not argue regardless—men killed our people.
“Yes, you’re right,” I said.
“These men—they are marked for death.”
“We could just kill them and be done with it. We do not need more Chosen to end the Raven’s reign. A simple kiss, a quick slice of their throats, and we could run away. Then we will find others who fled the king’s city and start anew.”
“That is not how we proceed—we need to understand this lord. We need time. The fall of the guild does not change our tasks, and we will continue as we have.”
“Continue as we have,” she hushed.
“Do you know what I was doing after you were away? When Taison was sent within the castle walls?” I gave no answer.
“Absolutely nothing. Gwendolyne insisted I stay in Sariem—be hidden ears to gather rumors. Only, I had never heard mention that the king had learned of the guild’s location. I was unbearably useless.”
“Vera, I am sor—”
“But I do not need to be useless now.” Her complexion matched her hair. A fire burned in those eyes.
“As you have said, the king’s favored men are here. We could drive a stake through their hearts. Gods, even Paden’s son is here. We can make that man pay for the blood he spilled.”
I feared the passion that burned in her—that ever-present flame comprising her spirit.
I begged.
“Sister, we cannot.”
“Because your heart is weak, Rhoswen. You get too close to the lords, to those we are sworn to tear down. Taison nearly reported you to the guild. Did you know that? He thought, as did I, that you would never accept Percival’s death. That you would fight to let him live. I see your heart, growing callused through the years. A piece of you shrivels with each death.”
My own hostility budded from my throat.
“Another will inherit the estate if Lord Alistair dies, and I need to know where the contracts end. And I must know the lord’s ambitions in fighting the elves and why the Potion of Disguise is out here.” My teeth clenched.
“But he still doesn’t trust me. I haven’t been here long enough.” I heaved a breath. “I am not weak, Vera. I feel when people die. Who would I be if I didn’t?”
Vera mauled.
“A fucking guild member, Rhoswen! A server to the gods. Your reasons only delay the inevitable. The lords of this age will fall.”
I nearly snapped. It was an honest anger, aged and suppressed, that finally poured from Vera’s mouth. My scowl matched hers. She groaned and tucked her head in the cradle of her arms, then revealed a face far softer. Far kinder, and hemming towards tears.
“I worry for you, Rhoswen,” she hushed.
“You have spent years protecting me from both the scum of this realm and myself. I know my temper would have sent me to my death years ago were it not for you.” She wrapped my hand in hers.
“I love you, and I only cannot lose you. Not to these men. Not because your heart was too pure, too forgiving.” Vera’s fingertips graze my cheek, smearing away a sudden tear. “I am glad we are together again.”
My voice cracked as tears tightened my throat.
“I have missed you. This place… I have been so alone here without you.”
“I cannot imagine what it must have been like—the only one of us in this estate.”
“Hendry was here, but the lord—” I choked on the air.
“The lord had discovered him and executed him before the entire estate.”
“Yes, I know. Another server of Sight had seen it through a vision. He said he saw you as well, terrified and pale. I wanted to run to you then. To rescue you from this place.” With certainty, she professed.
“The lord is an evil man.”
My voice withered.
“Vera, I do not know if he is. The dark magic here—”
“No, sister. Let’s not talk about this tonight. We need rest.”
“Rest…” My voice sounded far away.
“How is one to rest after the nightmares we’ve witnessed? In every moment of silence, I see only the remnants of the guild. I hear their cries.”
“I do too.”
Deceit grated, They still howl in the Everlaides, child. The people mourn. The gods cry. A renewed revenge stirs in the afterlife that will outpour into the realm. The crown will pay.
Chills tacked my skin.
Vera nestled into the covers.
“I can share Slumber’s gift.”
I clenched the bedding, burrowing beside her.
“I always have awful dreams when I fall into the god’s rest.”
She shrugged.
“You’d have awful dreams regardless. You might as well awake rested than tossing all night.” Vera’s elbow stabbed the mattress as she half-rose, finding my eyes.
“I could manipulate your dreams.”
“Do not touch my mind,” I said a bit too sternly
She rolled her eyes.
“Always so paranoid, love. Don’t know what you keep in there that I don’t already know.”
Deceit’s knowing laugh echoed in my mind, and he snatched a shard of vivid memories. Tangled in his fingers, Deceit held the Bloodletter tearing the king’s regime in two. All showed in blacks and greys except the splattered blood and red moon hanging above. The god then grabbed memories of Prince Evandor with red wet upon his blade, standing above the lifeless Volant.
My fists clenched the bedding, the fabric twisting in my terror.
The god did not cradle my lament, did not comfort as other gods might, but he held it tightly. The dark sky mirrors where the realm breaks. Where the stone ground cracks, the Everlaides bleed. Retribution is past due, and the gods will see such days through. The end of days will unfold before your weak heart summons its last beat.
My breath was long in hopes to deaden the pain, but grief festered in the memories that strung through his fingers.
Deceit’s teeth graze together. Do not forget, child, what sins mankind commits, he said. Lest I feel the acid of your tears when the Raven Lord succumbs to death as the Chosen have this night.
He wanted me to grieve, I knew. Let anger then burn my grief and leave me a vessel of retribution—that child of vengeance. Deceit had seen me fall into the arms of men time and again, but I wouldn’t remind him it was not my decision to swoon men in the dark hours of night—it was acts commanded by the High Gods in the Everlaides.
As Deceit held memories of the fallen guild in the front of my mind, I wondered if it was man or god that left my heart callused.
“Vera,” I hushed, turning on my side and finding a plume of curls.
“How many men do you think need to die for this war to be over?”
A grin, soft and careful, drew Vera’s lips.
“All those marked by Shadows. But it doesn’t end with them, does it? After the light died, it revealed man’s true nature. After the Shadows are done for, we will be able to finish off the rest of them. All those that stand against the gods.”
“And when corruption does not end? The light, it will still hang over us like a memory. What if this is a new age of Andrael where the light never returns? Will the gods only be satisfied when it is their Chosen that stand?”
She slanted her lips.
“Maybe. Would that be so wrong?”
There are not many of us, I nearly said. It was more true now than it had ever been before.
“Rhoswen, when savages took me from my mom and dad, I saw the true face of mankind. When those men strung me up with the rest of the kids—deciding whether to keep me and brand me or throw me to their wolves—it was the gods that saved me.” Vera bunched her sleeve and rubbed the marking where hot iron had found her. It was the only scar on her fair skin.
“I had never kissed so many men. But I also had never saved so many lives.”
She swallowed a breath.
“And it was those damn men that left me walking in the ash of my village.” Drawing out my eyes, Vera held me in her gaze.
“I know your family passed on in the fever, but you still have seen what man does. They leave poison in their path. They enslave elves, kill the gods’ chosen, and wield that bloody darkness.”
“I would never betray the gods, Vera.”
She cupped my cheek.
“You do not need to convince me, love. But the others…”
“Do they doubt?”
“Only because Taison has a big mouth, and he rather enjoys exaggerating truths. But don’t worry. I shut him up more times than I care to admit.” Her laughter quickly died as tears resurfaced.
“I pray to the gods he’s all right. That Carnage and Wisdom protect him from the crown.”
“Vera—”
“No matter,” she said, wiping her cheeks.
“The gods do protect him. That lug is fortunate enough to serve two gods. He-he’ll be fine.” She hushed.
“He has to be.” She cleared her throat and said with a ring in her voice, “And don’t you worry about Taison’s big mouth. You will prove yourself to the entire realm when the Raven falls.”
There was the churning of acid in my stomach, and the god tensed as he clicked his tongue.
Weak, he said.
“You should take Slumber’s kiss,” Vera offered.
“You’ll be better off for it. If I could kiss myself tonight, I would.”
I did not ask if Vera was well—I didn’t need to. Her pain was written in that single tear roaming through the stillness of her face. I held Vera’s hand and nestled beside her.
“Not tonight, Vera.” We laced arms, and I held her close, her tears wetting my shoulder.
“We’ll bear this cursed night together. I am not leaving you.” I kissed the curls at the top of her head, and we cried together. Cried for the brothers and sisters we lost, those shackled to the prisons, and our home that was left in ruins.
The god lay in my mind. Where the stone ground cracks, the Everlaides bleed.
Tears were hard behind my eyes, breaking past the barrier and rushing down my face. We exchanged mourners’ cries, Vera and I, that began to fall shallow. Deceit’s breath brushed beneath my skin. Grief clung itself in the air, sweeping into my soul with each inhale, but my exhaustion was dulling the edge.
A candle flickered in its final spell, and a small fume of smoke rolled into the air, leaving us in the dark of twilight. Vera’s breath fell soft and deep in slumber, so I held her tighter until my body gave in to the sway of night. There were more tears to pour, but sleep simply took me.
In the dark, Vera’s breath faded until I was locked in the arms of dreams.
I was locked in the arms of nightmares.