Chapter 41
“Miss Fallen.” Alistair stood before me in a bow, one hand resting upon his stomach and one at his back. He appeared like a knight before a maiden beneath the pale moonlight. Only, we stood more as a Shadow before a god, destined for war beneath the dark sky.
My smile was held by unseen twine that tugged at each end. I broke gaze from the lord, his stare churning my blood hot. I studied the shining tiles that reflected leaping figures. At the cusp of my sight, all around me, feet twirled and pivoted like windswept leaves stumbling into grace.
Head tilted down, I bat my lashes upward to find Alistair held steady in his bow, his ever-dark eyes fixed.
I tucked loose strands behind my ear, and the scarlet of my cheeks was hopeless to control. Well, perhaps not hopeless when influenced by godly magic, but I laid down my powers as Alistair and I stood before each other.
Arising from his bow, the same thread that held my smile then took his.
He lifted his hand, and I willingly allowed his hand to swathe mine.
Even as the fields of sage remain far in the outskirts of Tharen Crest, the scent drenched his attire. The aroma came to me in unison with the instruments, summoning our hearts to sway our feet. Alistair’s hand was persuaded by the arc of my back, trailing down my spine as my lungs swelled in a deep breath.
The instruments lessened their pace, conjuring a patient ardor that rose the castle in seductive rapture. We all were one, moved as one, beneath the king’s crest and starlit ceilings.
“You look beautiful.” Alistair’s tone was deep and rich.
Timidly, I hid myself behind his shoulder as we swayed, but his hand reached for my chin and lifted my face. Carved from bedrock of the dark, I looked at the night of his eyes, unable to find reflections or essence of light.
His hands clasped around my waist, and he lifted me into the air like wings of a raven. Other men did the same, a ballad of women risen to great heights. As my feet softly warped to the flat of the floor, I seemed to forget myself. The God of Deception, the Shadows, the guild. Only for this moment, it was a dream, as I found myself wholeheartedly in the wake of dance.
With a muscular arm at my back, Alistair held me close.
He asked.
“Are you comfortable being here?”
“Comfortable, my lord?” My eyebrows plucked up my forehead.
Alistair leaned towards me.
“I prefer when you call me by name.” His whisper deepened.
“I like how it sounds from your lips.”
The ache flourished through my veins, his words near unraveling what composure I still owned.
He continued.
“You mentioned you do not care for the castle. Too many men who plot, you had said. Are you well being here?”
“Alistair,” I surrendered his name, drawing out each syllable—his dimple casted a hushed shadow.
“I suppose it is not as torturous as I thought it would be.”
He was quick to mark.
“Give men dance and wine, and they’ll be well behaved. Leave them thirsting, and they’ll be ruthless.”
“I believe it is a balance.” My tone hiked a pitch.
“Too much wine, and they become ruthless once again.”
Alistair reckoned further.
“Though, give them even more, and they’ll be drunk on the cold ground, harmless.”
A giggle blossomed from my throat.
“Yes, until they awake with a splitting headache. Then, the tyranny continues.”
He looked down at me from the bridge of his nose, his features hardened.
“You really do not care for the men of this age.”
My lips could not straighten as I claimed.
“Not in the slightest.”
Alistair’s lips quirk, and I longed for them—for his lips. I now knew his taste, so I knew what I craved. It was no longer a fable of thought that cried for my lips to fall into his. It was a memory I yearned to revive. My breath, intertwining with his.
I twirled beneath Alistair’s arm, my silk gown skimming along the polished tiles. As I spun, Alistair watched each piece of me—the curve of my waist, the swell of my breasts, the sway of my hair, and the bow of my lips.
I fell backward into a dip, contorting to the demands of dance, my spine in an arch.
Alistair cradled my back. As we held our form at the end of my bend, his eyes chased the contour of my torso and crawled up. When our eyes met, he forged the line with his devoted stare. Severe. We stayed for two plucks of a string, and he drew me back to his chest and secured me within his arms.
My fingers in his hair, his hands at the dip of my waist. I was unraveling.
The pace of dance slightly hastened, my heartbeat rushing for more than one reason.
As we stepped in turn, Alistair noted.
“I saw you with Jarl Thranen of Shalimier and his family throwing crumbs.” He paused for a moment, letting the blush crawl along my cheeks again.
“Had you met the Jarl before today?”
I suppressed the heat on my face.
“I hadn’t, though I know many stories of his lineage. I have read nothing apart from greatness when his ancestors pressed the Vikings to the southeastern borders.” I then thought of the Jarl tossing bread at nobles.
“I cannot say he is what I expected.”
Not a breath was had before Alistair asked.
“And what of his sons?”
“What of his sons?”
“One seemed to take keen interest in you.”
Before I could filter my words, I asked.
“Does that upset you?”
“No.” He stated flatly.
My face fell, my cheeks deflating.
Alistair continued, his breath grazing my ear.
“But if he were here, dancing with you and not me, then yes. I would be upset.” A wicked pause was had as his hand tightened at my back.
“And I would become the ruthlessness of men you loath.”
A torrent became my heart, my chest pounding at his dark promise.
He lowered himself, his sharp chin tilting down.
My lips parted in a swift breath—opening so they might drown in his.
Laughter swelled in the grand hall. All faces turned towards a party of latecomers who appeared drunk. Two fell against the golden soldiers. Feet began to resume dance soon after, but my stare was fixed, taken captive.
A wave of red hair stained my vision, whisking down the passage, past the dining hall.
Vera?
Deceit would have spilled into the front of my mind with talons curled along my eyes.
My attention strung me up on a harness towards the outlet. I let go of Alistair.
“I—”
Alistair secured his arms around my waist.
“What is it?” He asked.
I pulled my eyes from where Vera once was and looked at Alistair—eyes faithful to mine, questions written on his brow. I nearly stayed.
“I have to go,” I finally said, causing Alistair to fall victim to my innate habit of leaving him behind. I did not grant him the opportunity to argue my stay. My fingers wrapped around his at my back, plucking away his touch, and I charged for the door.
“Rhoswen?” His hushed call chased me.
My heels struck the polished tiles, the soles of my feet throbbing.
I slipped out the door before the latches locked, and the instruments fell muted behind the iron-rodded doors.
“Vera?” I cast my voice down the hall, mindful of whether anyone was near. No answer came to me, so I fell deeper into the dark of the castle, candlelight caressing my back. “Vera?”
The shadows of the hallway called to me.
“Rhoswen? Is that you?”
“Where are you?” My eyelids scrunched as I traded firelight for shadow’s delight.
Birthed from the dark, the outline of a hand reached out for me and pulled me into the murk. My eyes continued to welcome the darkness, each second allowing the red curls to lighten in my sight. Her hairs were an inferno before me, wild and fierce.
“Gods, Vera!” I strung my arms around her, holding her tightly with no intentions to ever let her go again. My heart mourned the past days without her.
“I have missed you.”
Vera was reluctant, but her arms wrapped around me.
“What are you doing here?” I asked and glanced at my sides—further darkness draped the corridors to my left, and the outer plume of torchlight flickered at my right.
“You had said you were going to find Taison. Have you found him? Is he here?”
“Taison…” Her word sounded strange, but I did not think much of it.
Last we’d spoken, she cried at me and then fled into the night. I had yet to know what ground Vera and I stood on.
“Taison is not here,” she said slowly.
“But I need to find him.”
I quickly pleaded.
“I know you grow weary of my caution, but please be careful. Be careful of him. I do not trust him.”
“Why?” She spat at me.
“Isn’t it obvious?” I asked, my voice melding into an echo. Vera did not answer.
“He is a killer.”
“And you’re not?”
I was taken aback. Vera had never accused me of killing, but rather seemed to loathe what purity I tried to uphold.
“What do you mean, Vera?”
“Well, go on, you tell me.” Her weight pivoted between her feet, and her fingers flicked against her palms. It was as though she did not know how to stand still.
I scoffed, this night feeling like a continuation of our last encounter.
“What’s wrong? Is this about earlier?”
Vera’s shrill laugh rang against the stones—her forged laugh.
“Gods, Rhoswen. All these questions. Why don’t you just leave with me? We can leave all this behind.”
I marked.
“You know well why I will not leave. My work is not yet done.”
“Work? What work?”
Chills prickled my skin. The enigmas of the dark smothered me.
I knew, as did Vera, exactly what work I was in. The work of the gods.
“Why are you asking all these questions? I do not want—” My words snuffed out like a dying flame.
“Wish to what?” Vera asked, if it indeed was her.
“What?” Her brows furrowed, and the curls lost a shade of color.
“What are you staring at?”
“Your nose.” I lifted a finger, though she pulled back, forcing distance.
“It looks… odd.”
The bud of her nose began to swell. The bridge rose.
This… This was not Vera.
“Different?” A frantic breath wheezed down their throat, and they spoke quickly with Vera’s voice.
“You do not know what you speak of, Rhoswen. Do not avoid my question. What work?”
Now, a furrow marked my brow, and my own ire tangled in my throat.
“You do not speak like my sister.” It was as though I was the God of Deception speaking to his disciple—“Your mask is failing you.”
You are being tricked, Deceit would say.
An anger found me, shriveling the heat in my blood. The enchantment of the night was lost as I was thrown into the bowels of the dark, standing before a deceiver. But I was the incarnation of godly powers, the master of masks.
I was Deception.
It had only been days since I’d the Shadow’s cold burned my shoulder. The touch of bitter claws that scored my shoulder and poured through my skin. The touch that left my blood sodden in dark desires.
Taking a deep breath, I attempted to console myself, goad myself from the Shadows as Alistair had taught me. To feel the beat of my heart, sense that warmth in my chest. The life. But there was a stranger before me, claiming to be someone I loved. Someone I had lost.
“Who are you?” My voice had fallen low. I took their wrist.
“Why have you taken Vera’s face?”
They yanked back, Vera’s dying curls tossing in the shadows.
“Let me go! You are confused.” Juniper eyes began to alter as the stranger struggled in my hold.
“Let go, dammit!”
“Tell me who you are,” I shouted.
The magic of the Shadow overtook me, as though I’d plunged into cold waters.
The Shadow scraped along my bones and filled my skull, its powers skulking to my eyes and granting me clear vision in the dark. My hand constricted around Vera’s wrist, only it was not Vera’s. And beneath my palm, their skin bubbled in transfiguration.
The Potion of Disguise.
The Shadow hummed anger in my mind. My teeth gritted.
This stranger’s hand reached into their gown and pulled out a small tin.
“Tell me who you are,” I yelled again. My cry echoed in my ears, but it was not my voice that called into the night. It was the Shadow. Staring at the impostor, I attempted to feel my heart—to feel the thumping that meant I was still amongst the living, no matter how near death I felt.
I garnered a breath, but it was cut short.
I coughed violently.
The wearer of Vera’s face—they blew a white powder into the air, concealing themselves and leaving me to choke.
Seconds passed, and the cloud lifted. My coughing stopped, but they were gone.
Who would mask themselves as Vera? I asked the hollow void in my mind.
I answered myself, filling my mind with Deceit’s churning voice. Is it not obvious, child? Within the dark of the castle, man is without redemption since their conception. They seek those who serve the gods to tear them from life. Your throat will be held by a knife.
“Please come back to me,” I whispered, falling against the wall in the dark.
My breaths were ragged. My blood was cold. I could see all I could not before—the breaks between stones, the two spiders that contested beside a cobweb in the corner, and torches that had not been lit. But it was not I that could see, but the Shadow within.
Please, Deceit. Come back.
I sent my woes to the Everlaides, hoping my cry might find a leather-skinned creature with sharp talons and a twisting tail. That his star-darkened eyes might look down at me, even if it be in pity.
Closing my eyes, I listened to the rhythm of my heart. Struggling in the cold blood, I found a sliver, perhaps a single vein, that still held warmth. I listened to it, imagining the flow of red blood coursing through me. I set my palm upon my chest, gently tapping my fingers along my sternum each time my heart beat.
Rhoswen Fallen, server to the gods. I anchored myself in who I was—the truth of my being. Davina Torrance. Rhoswen Fallen, server to the gods. Davina Torrance. I repeated again and again with slow breaths and fingers thumping my chest. I am not of shadows.
Footsteps neared.
I peeled my spine from the stones, though I remained in the dark—a dark I could no longer see in detail. My blood had warmed, and the cold of my shoulder absconded. The Shadow had left. My footfall remained hushed, and faint light only caught the gold lace of my gown.
An unwelcome tear fell down my cheek.
Seeing Vera—though not Vera—left my heart near ruin. And it was another who played games I had known well. Games I had taken part in since my mother succumbed to the fever. Games I had mastered since Princess Davina died at the king’s hand.
Footsteps scraped my ears, the hollow tune expanding.
I walked into another passageway, and Alistair found me at the end of wiping my tears.
“Where had you gone?” Alistair reached out his hand.
He followed the row of golden candlesticks to where I stood, but I stepped away from him—I did not know if it was him or if another game was being played.
He stepped closer.
“Rhoswen, what’s wrong?”
“Do not come any closer!” I choked my cry and restructured the distance between us.
The dark cradled my back like a hundred hands drawing me in.
Alistair halted.
“Rhoswen, tell me what’s happened.” His voice harbored demand.
He stood before a torch, features in the dark—I couldn’t read his face.
Deceit? I called into the cavern.
“Rhoswen?” My name carried softly. Alistair patiently took another step forward.
I hunched my spine and wailed.
“I said, stay back!” My fists clenched my gown, marring the silk.
“Do not come to me.” Any threat in my voice was effaced by my tight throat, straining my words.
Alistair lowered himself, arms extended at his side, empty.
“Rhoswen, I told you. I will never hurt you.”
I spoke between breaks of tears.
“I cannot trust you.”
“You can,” he assured.
“I promise.”
A cold scratched my shoulder, digging into my skin.
I stole a breath, searching for the warmth in my chest and the life in my veins.
“What did you tell me in the library when you healed my ankle?” I asked.
“Rhoswen, what—”
“Answer me,” I shrieked
He yelled.
“Dark waters, Rhoswen! You had spoken of treading dark waters, and I told you that one cannot tread dark waters. Only drown.”
I fell silent. My question had been answered, but I still remained in apprehension’s hold. Though as Alistair stepped forward, I did not step back.
“What happened, Rhoswen?” His face emerged into new light—a neighboring torch caught his eyes that swallowed the reflection whole.
My lungs were weak.
“I think someone is changing faces.”
“What? You’re certain?” Alistair took in our surroundings.
“Whoever it was, they left. They threw white powder into the air and vanished.”
“Who did they pretend to be?”
Not knowing the aims of the face-changer, if perhaps they were an enemy that knew I served the gods, I lied.
“I do not know. But I saw their nose change and skin bubble.”
His jaw clenched.
“Why do you continue to offer me lies, Rhoswen? Have I not proven myself to you?”
My own teeth fused as I haled distance between us once more.
“Do not play yourself the victim, Alistair.” My voice held an edge.
“You, too, have kept secrets. How you cast away the Shadows with a ring of light in your eyes.”
He muttered.
“But you do not need to know of my secrets.”
“And you do not need to know mine.”
I turned towards the dark at my back, prepared to fall back into the veil.
Alistair snagged my wrist, chaining me where I stood. My glared carved over stones and the king’s burgundy tree to Alistair. I measured him with a wired scowl.
“You mean to leave me again?” He said, tightening his hold on my wrist.
“Do you not grow weary of it? Consistently pulling away as though I am the Shadow you attempt to flee?”
I spoke through barred teeth.
“It is not like that.”
Alistair gnashed.
“Then, tell me. What is it? Because each moment we have stood together, I watch you leave me.” He yanked me from the dark, into the firelight, and lowered to me—so near I thought his teeth might bite my nose.
“You tell me to, and I will refuse you. When your stare lingers on me, I will turn. When you look as beautiful as white roses beneath the sun, I will deny you. And when you come to me with those damn lips, I will draw back and walk away.”
“That is not what I want.” Another tear fell down my face, derived from anger. From what remained unspoken.
Alistair’s tone rose like I’d never heard before.
“Then tell me, Rhoswen Fallen, what do you want?”
“I cannot say! What I want does not matter.”
He demanded.
“Tell me, Rhoswen.”
My heart choked my throat.
“Anything I desire is tethered to a dying realm, Alistair. What can truly become of wants when death is promised to us all?”
Alistair grabbed my face, forcing me to peer into his eyes, and spoke in a dark whisper.
“Do I look dead to you?”
Tension lined his brow, severity chiseled his face.
“Tell me what you want, Fallen, because I am driven near madness being pulled in and cast out within your damn enchantment.”
“I…” My words were trapped in my throat.
Alistair tightened his hand on my face and growled, “Say it.”
“I want you.”
I said it. I finally said it. As though a thousand knots untied, ease unraveled my heart. It was the truth that made Vera and the god abandon me. The truth that left my obedience to the gods waning as I bartered reality between Shadows and man and Alistair’s fate.
The truth.
More than a servant to the gods—
I wanted Alistair Raven.
“I want you, Alistair.” Another tear filled the brim of my eye.
“You terrified me in the wine cellar that dark day, but ever since, I have come to know you as more than a man plagued with his father’s name.”
He released his hand from my face and held the back of my head, fingers tangling into my hair.
“Alistair.” His name tasted sweet on my tongue.
“I have come to know you, not as the Raven Lord, but as a man seeking goodness in a lost realm. A man who casts out Shadows with magic I do not understand. One with eyes so dark, I cannot help but fall into them, fall into you, each time I see you.”
His face softened, eyes undivided from mine.
I continued through the tears and the heart that drummed so fiercely in my chest.
“In this realm, Alistair, I am surrounded by threats. The war wages between man and gods, the Shadows consume light, and I do not know who remains enemy and ally, but when I am with you… I feel safe. I know I am safe.”
He only said my name. His voice weakened into nothingness.
And there, in the forgotten hall—Alistair Raven, servant to Shadows, lord under the king—stole me.
His arms swathed me in desire and protection. His lips flexed between mine.
Fingers hard at my back, Alistair lowered his touch to my thighs, and a drawn breath, a deep moan, carried from my throat, causing his entire body to tense against mine. The hard of his chest, the ripples of his abdomen, and the tautness of his biceps—my hands sought to feel each piece of him.
I untucked his shirt and pressed my hands against his bare back.
Alistair’s hand held the swell of my breast, and I ran dry of air.
“Rhoswen.” My name was only of yearning air, hot, from his mouth.
“Do not leave me again.”
“I won’t,” I said. He sucked my neck, and my fingers tangled in his hair.
“I promise.”
Alistair pulled back, and his thumb dragged along my lower lip. He held me there, still. And as I stood still, our eyes unable to break from each other’s, I was thrown into the unrelenting desire to stretch and bend each part of myself around him.
“I believe you,” he said in absolute certainty.
Before I could breathe a fresh breath, I drowned in the dark waters he inflicted. Alistair’s hands grabbed me from behind, and he lifted me as though I weighed nothing. Without lips severing, he held me and walked through the dark corridors.
Time did not seem to pass, and we were before a simple door of darkened oak.
Alistair’s door.
Both gently and without patience, he set me upon my feet and pulled his key from his pocket. With hurried intention, he stabbed the key into the doorknob, and his chamber opened to me. To us.
He seized me back into his arms, lifting me from the ground, and we fell beneath the threshold.
Alistair slammed the door at our backs.