Chapter 14
“You may call me Rivel,” the male said, taking a seat in the velvet armchair of the private leisure room he’d led us to.
Against my better judgment, I’d followed him with little argument or question.
Curiosity had driven me to throw my inhibitions to the wind.
Don’t talk to strangers. Don’t follow strangers to dark, secluded rooms. All important lessons if you wished to survive the world in its current state.
All lessons I’d chosen to ignore, hoping to discover the truth of my situation at the Consortium.
I was not without a plan, of course; I’d tucked a small, sheathed dagger between my breasts.
It wasn’t much in the way of blades, but it would do the job if following Rivel turned out to be a mistake, so long as I kept my wits about me.
I had my magic too—if necessary. Though since my duel with Jyuri, I’d been hesitant to tap into it.
Only if it was an emergency would I do so. Only then.
“You knew my name,” I stated. “I’ve never met you before.”
He pointed to the chair across from him. “Take a seat. You’re making me nervous.”
Rich, all things considered. It was an obvious deflection, but I took a seat, if only to get him talking.
“Much better.” Rivel smiled. “I’ve heard you’re looking for information on the Grand Arch Magus.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Have you?”
“The walls have eyes and ears. You should keep your desires closer to your chest should you wish them to remain a secret.” His eyes wandered to my chest as he spoke the word, and a panic rose within me, wondering if he’d somehow noticed the blade concealed beneath the fabric.
“You’ve yet to make this conversation worthwhile, Rivel.” I didn’t allow the alarm to reach my face. “I’m not interested in wasting my time here if you’ve nothing of import to say. I should get back to the ball.”
He chuckled. “So serious, aren’t you? I didn’t mean to steal you from your date, but you didn’t look too satisfied with him.”
“You’ve been watching me.” My heart hammered in my chest. All of my internal alarm bells were ringing, but if I played this right… “Who exactly are you? I want answers, or I’m walking out of here right now.”
“You could say I am one of Alandris’ peers. We work together on a little side project outside of the Mages Consortium.”
“A side project?”
He continued as if I’d said nothing at all, “I didn’t think it could be true—that he would hide you here under all our noses.
Most people wouldn’t recognize you at first sight, but the second you turned around, and I saw those creepy, blood-red eyes, I knew.
My father hunted you once, a couple hundred years ago.
You murdered him while I was still a child, but he graciously left behind a journal detailing everything he’d learned about you.
” He sneered. “I kept it to myself. I’m the one who deserves to hunt you, monster, and I’ll be the one to end you for good.
You will die by my hands. No one else’s. ”
Rivel shushed me when I opened my mouth to speak. “There is a chance Alandris didn’t know what you are. I suppose I could give him the benefit of the doubt and spare his life.” He tilted his head to the side. “Did you come here to hunt him? To murder another member of the Divine Council?”
“What are you going on about?” I snapped, nails digging into the arms of my chair. “I don’t know you, or your father, or what the Divine Council is!” My heart was pounding in my chest. Rivel was insane. I’d followed someone who was out of their damn mind.
“Shut up!” His voice boomed. “I’m right, aren’t I? You’re picking us off like flies. How many more of us will you slaughter in cold blood? You’re no god! You’re an abomination to our Holy Goddess!”
I stood up in a swift motion, nearly losing my balance against the chair.
“DO NOT MOVE!”
Monster. My little monster, you need my help, don’t you?
My hands shook. Though I’d been desperate to, I’d not reached for my magic, and still that voice roused within me.
Let me show him true slaughter, it hissed.
“No!” I shouted, bringing my hands up over my ears. “No. No. No.”
Rivel laughed something wicked and broken. “My father was right. The monster is trapped inside of you, poor girl. I almost feel bad for you.” He pulled a knife from inside his suit jacket with a crazed look in his eyes. “Then I guess we have to… CUT IT OUT!”
He lunged at me so quickly I barely had time to react. I ripped the dagger from its hiding spot with just enough time to dodge and hold it out in front of me, creating distance between us as he leaped back.
“I will not spare you if you attack me again,” I warned, keeping my voice as steady as possible. “I am offering you one opportunity to drop your weapon and leave.”
Rivel cackled. “I do not fear you, girl, nor the thing that lives within.”
I gritted my teeth. Reasoning was out of the question, then. “You should.”
If there was one thing I was going to do, it was survive. I had lived through far worse. I would not die; I would not let them capture me after finally experiencing the sweet taste of freedom.
Rivel did not preface his next attack with a warning.
He swung at me viciously, knife jabbing the air wildly and without strategy.
Lorian had not trained me to defend against such attacks.
My role as ship doctor meant I saw little combat, so he’d taught me to fight honorably.
A duel of swords, purpose, and seldom foul tricks.
Rivel was nothing like him. When he realized it would be difficult to get a hit in, he began throwing furniture around.
Lamps. Mirrors. Glass shattered at my feet.
His feral attack provided one boon—he was making a ton of noise. If I couldn’t kill him myself, if I could hold out long enough, someone would find us.
“It’s no fun to play with prey that only runs.” He sneered. “Too bad I’ve backed you into a corner.”
Stepping back, I felt my body press into the wall behind me.
I cursed to myself. I hadn’t noticed that the way he’d been guiding me to dodge had been intentional.
He’d maneuvered me to a spot nestled between the fireplace and a large dresser, and he was drawing nearer and nearer.
If I attempted to run past him, he’d have the perfect opportunity to stab at me, and I’d have little space to move out of the way.
I can help you.
“NO!”
You need me. You can’t do this on your own.
Stubbornness and possibly stupidity drove me to make the attempt I knew was impossible. I wasn’t giving in to the voice. I could do this on my own.
I rushed forward, dagger in hand, and he—he let me pass?
Wrong. A sharp yank of my hair ripped me back.
Rivel’s fingers twisted into a fist around the strands as he dragged me to him.
Pain pricked my scalp as I brought my hand to his, attempting to pry his fingers free.
With a harder tug, he pressed me against him, forcing my face upward until it was close enough to smell his rotten breath.
He whispered against the curve of my ear, “this is for my father.”
At the moment I’d felt his knife plunge into my side, I’d curled my fingers around his neck and dug deep for my magic—my power. Not the voice’s. Mine. And it answered.
Rivel brought his hand back again, taking aim, when a gargled scream tore through his throat. His knife clattered to the ground into the pile of glass beneath us as he released his grip on my hair and began to claw at my hand around his neck.
I dug deeper.
Free from the position he’d had me locked in, I could swivel my body around to face him, improving my grip.
He struggled against me weakly until blood pooled in the corners of his mouth, and his eyes turned glassy, his body growing limp.
And when I could no longer support his weight, I watched him slump to the ground, lifeless, my chest heaving.
Isn’t it a beautiful sight? You should have let me have a taste.
Looking down at him—for the first time truly seeing what I’d done—bile rose in my throat.
It hadn’t been just a strangulation; what I’d done with my magic had covered his entire neck and chest with dark tendrils of magic.
The places where the pads of my fingers had dug into his skin had left deep gouges, pooling and dripping with blood.
I glanced down at my shaking hand and found it there, too.
Gore—coating my fingers. Under my fingernails.
I’d done it. Without help, just like I’d wanted and needed to, yet I felt sick. Disgusted with myself because I didn’t need to lose control to become a monster; I was perfectly capable of it all on my own. No one deserved a death so brutal….
I was still standing over his body, staring down at the horror I’d caused, when the door swung open.
“Nairu!”
Alandris’ voice brought me a relief I hadn’t thought was possible. So much so that the dam holding back every emotion threatening to overwhelm me broke, and a sob wracked my chest. Through my tears, I looked at him, standing now right at my side. “I—I did this.”
“Are you injured?” He took my bloodied hand in his, turning it over until he’d scanned every inch. “Is this his blood?”
I nodded. “His.”
The frenzy in his eyes lessened, though his face went taut. “I will take care of this. Go to my quarters. Wait for me there.”
“W—wait.” I pulled the crown from my head and held it to my chest. “It’s enchanted. You wouldn’t have remembered me clearly, or that I was there waiting for you.”
The corner of his mouth quirked into a strangely melancholy smile. “I would always remember you.” He turned his attention to Rivel. “Go, Nairu.”
I started to move and abruptly halted. “Is there a key? To your quarters?”
He didn’t turn back. “Turn the knob. It will open for you.”
I was halfway to his quarters when the adrenaline began to fade, and I remembered the wound in my side.
Rivel’s attack had been sloppy. He had stabbed at an angle, resulting in a long gash—too shallow to grievously injure, much less kill.That didn’t stop it from being agonizingly painful now that the buzz of battle had worn off, and it wouldn’t stop it from needing stitches, either,—which would not happen with my hands shaking as much as they were.
I debated going to find a healer instead, but I couldn’t fathom how I would answer their questions of what had happened to me.
There were only two options—wait for Alandris or stitch it myself.
Either way, I needed to get to his rooms first, away from where anyone could spot me covered in blood.
Thankfully, my blood’s color blended with my dress, so a brief glimpse wouldn’t likely reveal me—a minor victory.
I reached the hallway leading to the Grand Arch Magus’ quarters and twisted the knob of one of the double-sided doors. There was a slight resistance, but it quickly turned and gave way. I took a peek for onlookers before slipping inside and closing the door behind me.
Met with another large hallway and several open doors, I poked my head into each as I proceeded, wishing I wasn’t bleeding out so that I could investigate.
The information I’d gotten stabbed for would probably be bountiful within his own quarters.
Pity. I begrudgingly made my way to the end of the hall, where another set of closed double doors awaited.
Again, brief resistance, and then the knob turned with ease.
The room beyond had to be Alandris’. At the front was a grand desk piled high with books and loose papers.
In the back of the room was a bed dressed in plush velvet and furs, far larger and more luxurious than the scratchy cotton we lowly Mages had in our dorms. A side room jutted off to the right, and inside was the bathing room—a smaller, private version of the communal baths I was used to taking was built into the floor.
Asshole lived a life of excess while, we had to worry if we were being ogled as we wash.
I was sifting through his cabinets, looking for a medical kit, when I heard the door click open.
“You should have wiped your hand on your dress,” Alandris called from the main room, too nonchalantly for someone who’d just discovered his student had murdered someone. “I had to send someone to clean the trail of blood droplets leading up to my room.”
I stepped out from the bathing room, medical kit in hand. “Sorry about that.”
His eyes drifted down to where my other hand clutched my side, and he paled. “You are hurt.”