CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The air on this side of Umbral carried the weight of long abandonment, thick with dust and the mineral bite of water seeping through stone that had not known care in centuries. Jagged fractures split the walls, their narrow seams leaking a dim, anemic glow that barely reached the floor.
I stood just inside the threshold of the wing, my pulse slowing as the last of the adrenaline drained from my limbs. It left behind a hollow ache that made my hands tremble no matter how tightly I curled my fingers into the fabric of my coat.
Xylos groaned as he shoved the massive block aside, muscles bunching beneath his tunic as the wall dragged open with a protesting shriek that echoed down the corridor.
The space beyond breathed out a damp, sour air that had me wrinkling my nose before I could stop myself.
“I know it is not as indulgent as Talon’s wing,” Xylos said sharply, breath still uneven, “but you will survive without falling ill. You may enter.”
Vesuva slithered past me and into the chamber, her eyes scanning the dark space.
I followed more slowly, my steps faltering when my eyes landed on the figure seated stiffly at the edge of a threadbare settee.
“Neya,” Xylos breathed, his form tensing beside me. “What are you doing here?”
Neya disregarded him, her fire-colored eyes pinned on me. “You freed him?”
I blinked at her straightforwardness, my tongue feeling clumsy in my mouth. “Yes.”
Her gaze swept over me with quiet calculation, lingering just long enough to make my shoulders tighten. “Why?”
“He is innocent,” I said. My brows furrowed as a flare of irritation cut through me.
Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Is he?”
“Yes,” Xylos cut in, his voice a low growl.
Neya’s attention flicked to him at last, her expression unreadable. She shifted back on the settee, folding her legs beneath her with elegant composure.
“Then do not remain standing on my account,” she said coolly, gesturing toward the lone stone chair against the wall. “Please.”
Xylos’s eyes stayed on her, dark and brimming with a hurt he was clearly trying to bury. He sank into the chair, shuffling aside to leave space for me. I shook my head, my feet remaining rooted to the spot.
“What are you doing in my chamber, Neya?” Xylos asked again, a loc of dark hair falling over his brow.
Her mouth curved without warmth. “This ceased being your chamber when you were sent to the Thrynn Chambers.”
My eyes darted between the two of them, my hands growing clammy in discomfort.
Xylos’s face hardened. “The chambers you left me to rot in.”
Her eyes narrowed, her lips parting to form what was sure to be an impolite response.
I palmed my forehead and cut in before the argument could continue. “Both of you stop talking.”
Xylos straightened in his chair. Neya’s eyes moved to me, her jaw tight and shoulders drawn high as if bracing for impact.
I placed my hands on my hips and turned slightly to look Xylos in the eye. “I want the truth. I want to know about the bond, about your father, about whatever story you have been rotting with.”
Xylos frowned. “There is little to tell.”
Neya scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “You could fill entire archives with what you refuse to say.”
“Let him speak,” I said firmly.
She turned away with a huff, stalking toward a collapsing bookshelf that held nothing but dust and a single photo frame with no image inside. She picked it up, turned it once in her hands, then set it back down harder than necessary.
Xylos sighed. “My father cast me to the cells because I was a threat to his crown. I was a son who would have cut his throat to end his tyranny.”
Neya’s shoulders stiffened, but she said nothing.
“That is not fair,” I said quietly. “He was your father, and a father is meant to protect.”
A humorless sound escaped Xylos. “He vowed to protect only his throne. I was not his son. I was his rival.”
Something twisted low in my chest. I thought of my own father—how he would walk into a wildfire for me—and swallowed.
“Okay,” I said slowly. “And Thora?”
Xylos’s brow furrowed.
His eyes searched my face, then Neya’s back. “Who?”
The word barely left his mouth before Neya spun around. She crossed the space in three long strides and stopped directly in front of him, towering over his seated form.
Her finger jabbed into his shoulder.
“Do not play coy, Xylos,” she said, her voice shaking with restraint. “Do not sit there and pretend you do not know her.”
Xylos flinched away from her pokes and caught her wrist gently, lowering her hand to his thigh. “I am not pretending. I do not know of a Thora.”
I cleared my throat against the panic settling in my chest and clarified. “The mortal you entered a bond with. The reason for your exile.”
He let out a rasped breath that was not quite a laugh. “Must be a tale. I told you, I was locked away because my father was a coward. A selfish coward.”
“This does not make sense,” I stated, shaking my head.
Xylos tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “What are you insinuating, little mortal?”
“There was a girl,” I began, my eyes darting nervously to Neya who seemed to be holding her breath.
“There was never a girl,” he cut in, his eyes landing on Neya. “There was only ever Neya.”
Neya’s breath stuttered, her eyes locked on me as if awaiting my reaction. I remained indifferent, even though I wanted to ask so many questions. She was easily spooked.
She sniffled as her eyes began to shine and a single tear slipped free, tracking down her cheek in silence.
Xylos froze, his hands clenching into fists on his thighs.
His expression twisted, confusion giving way to something akin to pain. His chest rose sharply, as he reached out, his fingers softly brushing her cheek and collecting the tear.
“Please do not cry, Stormy,” he murmured. “You never cry.”
Her face crumpled for a single moment before she slapped his hand away, the sound sharp in the quiet chamber.
“Do not touch me,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “And do not call me that.”
Xylos stared at his empty hand, then at her face, his features drawn tight with confusion and something close to panic.
“I do not understand,” he said hoarsely. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Neya’s sobs only seemed to increase as she buried her face into her hands.
I shuffled awkwardly, my eyes darting between the pair.
I was not sure what to think. Whether the texts were fraudulent, which I know is a highly likely possibility, or if Xylos was telling a lie. But why would he?
“Kaelia!”
Talon’s voice roared, echoing through the chamber and sending a shiver deep into my bones.
The faint glow-moss along the walls flickered, faltering beneath his wrath. The shadows in the corners began to writhe, spirits that had been dormant suddenly shrieking as they were pulled into a spiraling tempest.
Xylos rose and stood beside me, pushing Neya’s trembling form behind his back just as Talon emerged from the heart of the silver storm.
“Kaelia.” His fury rolled off him in waves that made the stone beneath my feet groan. “What have you done?”
I forced my chin up, even as my soul wanted to crawl to him and beg for a forgiveness I did not deserve. “I gave a man back his life.”
“That is not your decision to make!” Talon growled, the spirits around him whipping into a frenzy. “I promised you, Kaelia.”
“I understand you need a plan, Talon,” I placated. “But it is not fair to leave him to rot in the meantime.”
Talon’s eyes glowed a furious blue, the irises darkening to an almost navy tone.
“You do not understand what you have done.”
I screwed my eyes closed to prevent the buildup of tears from falling.
“I do not see you doing much to help me, Talon,” Xylos goaded, stepping forward with eyes alight in a mocking fire. “When did you plan to let me free, Master? Three centuries? Or four?”
“Xylos,” Neya warned from behind him.
“Probably four,” Xylos nodded. “Just enough time for a lone Veythar to surrender to the elements and become one with the stone.”
Talon pinned Xylos with a filthy glare. “You have no right to throw accusations my way, Xylos. Your actions are what landed you in that cell to begin with.”
“My father put me in that cell!” Xylos threw his hands up. “How can you stand there and tell me I am not innocent?”
I winced at the flash of confusion that crossed Talon’s face but he was quick to cover it up, his features settling into stoic lines.
“Xylos, you need to get back into that cell,” Talon commanded. “I need more time.”
“I will not,” he growled, his breaths growing heavy. “A true Master will go to war for his kin, Talon. Why won’t you?”
“Enough!” I shouted, stepping between them and facing Talon. “We cannot throw him back down there.”
Talon’s expression faltered for the briefest of seconds, a flash of disappointment breaking through. “You would side with him against me?”
“Talon,” I lowered my voice. “This is not about sides. This is about right and wrong.”
His eyebrows lowered, those fierce eyes moving between mine.
“Looks like your woman has the ability to lead Umbral better than you,” Xylos mocked.
My eyes screwed shut as an exasperated breath escaped me. My hands landed on Talon’s upper arms, but he stepped around me just as the room fractured around him.
The spirits screamed as Talon crossed the space between them, shadows tearing loose in his wake. Xylos barely had time to turn before Talon’s fist met his jaw, the impact snapping his head sideways with a sound that echoed the empty space.
Neya shouted, leaping forward to grasp Talon’s arm to yank him back.
Before Talon could stagger a step, my wrist flicked out.
A shadow tore from the storm and drove toward Neya with a shriek.
Landing on her forearm, it wrapped around her wrist in a tight band and pulled her away from Talon finger by finger.
She stumbled with a gasp, her glowing eyes turning on me with confusion as she rubbed at her reddened skin.
“Hands off,” I growled.
“Lack of control remains your weakness, I see,” Xylos spat as he straightened, his hand rubbing at his jaw. “And now, you teach your lady the same.”
“Keep her name out of your mouth,” Talon hissed, stepping forward until he was toe-to-toe with him.
Xylos did not flinch. “You do not deserve to have reign over my kingdom.”
“It was never going to be yours,” Talon snarled. The spirits writhed behind him, stretching into jagged half-forms. “Our law is clear, Xylos: he who kills the leader inherits the throne. You were much too cowardly to raise a hand to your father.”
Shadow surged around Xylos as he moved, fast enough that my eyes barely caught the shift. His strike came out of the dark, knuckles crashing into Talon’s temple with a crack that snapped my breath short.
“Xylos!” I shouted, moving forward, Vesuva mimicking my strides. “Get your hands off of him.”
Talon reeled a single step, more from surprise than damage. The cold fire in his eyes ignited fully as he straightened.
Neya stepped closer, her hand coming down to clamp on Xylos’s shoulder, but she moved far too slow.
Talon’s fist drove upward into Xylos’s chin with a force that lifted him clean from the ground, the impact echoing through stone and bone alike. The spirits screamed as one, spiraling violently around Talon’s body as Xylos hit the floor in a tangle of black cotton and blood.
Neya cried out, dropping to her knees beside Xylos’s collapsed form. Her pale hands landed on his cheeks as she maneuvered his head into her lap. “What did you do?”
I lunged forward, stepping into Talon’s path, but his eyes remained locked on the injured man as his chest heaved with uneven breaths.
My hand cupped his warm cheek, stroking the sweat-slicked surface. “Talon, you must back off.”
His wide eyes darted to me with such speed, they took a moment to focus. Betrayal pulled tight at his lips, his eyes rounding in disbelief.
“You cannot ask anything of me right now, little flame.”
I shook my head, my fingers gripping his jaw tighter. “These are your people. You are meant to protect them, not crush them. You cannot bend beneath the twisted demands of the High Court.”
His hand shot out, gripping my wrist. My fingers dropped from his cheek as he pulled me forward until my chest pressed up against his. “You defied me, Kaelia.”
“I know,” I whispered, my eyes dropping to the ground. “Please, leave him free.”
His grip tightened around me, causing me to hiss in shock. My eyes lifted to meet his, which were narrowed into frozen slivers. “You are in no position to command me.”
“I understand,” I pleaded, my knees finally beginning to buckle under his disapproving gaze. “But I am asking you.”
His grip slackened as his eyes softened in dismissal. “Leave.”
I glanced at Xylos, who was slumped half against the wall and half against Neya’s folded legs. He offered me an antagonistic smirk, dark blood coating his lips and teeth. “Thank you for my freedom, Lady Kaelia.”
Talon growled and moved around me, but before he could land another hit on Xylos, I stepped in front of him and placed a hand on his heaving chest, pushing him a step back.
“Do not look at her,” Talon growled over my shoulder. “Or the cell will look like a paradise compared to what I will set upon you.”
Without dropping his eyes from above me, he grumbled. “Leave us, little flame.”
I sighed and stepped around him, mumbling an apology to three of them as I stumbled out of the room and into the hallway.
The spirits sang and swirled around me, as if rejoicing in my exit. I waved them away from my face and ran through the corridors until I reached our chamber.