Chapter 39
THIRTY-NINE
Loyalty is both a valuable weapon
and a dangerous weakness.
RIVEN
The gnarled tree is scarred and coated in ice. I run my gloved hand over the bark until I find the knot I’m looking for and press in.
There’s a crunch, then the knot slides in, releasing the faint scent of sap and revealing a small cubby.
The smell is nice, but I can’t enjoy it.
The forest is too quiet. The wind too mild.
This realm is rarely loud, making noise is too dangerous, but this silence is ominous.
It’s sentient, like the plants themselves are lying low.
Inside the cubby, there’s a rolled piece of paper, tied with a braided vine—Hyacinth’s calling card. I raise the scroll to my nose and sniff. Resin and woods, with a peppery edge.
My shoulders dip, and tension I didn’t realize I was carrying falls away from me. She’s safe. Wrapping the note in rosemary is her signal of loyalty. My choice to help Celine hasn’t made her turn on me. I worried but I shouldn’t have.
I stuff the message in my cloak without reading it. Lingering here isn’t safe.
These woods have eyes, and the search for Celine is the largest organized manhunt I’ve seen on the monster realm since I was sent here as a young boy.
Anyone caught in the fallout won’t live to talk about it, which means it’s time for me to leave.
Permanently. With Rue near death, I’ve got to get her daughter out too.
This is no place for a witch, especially one as powerful as Hyacinth.
A beast bellows in the distance. The sound is followed by a high-pitched scream that aborts at its highest frequency. One of the wild monsters that roams this realm has secured its lunch.
I watch as the knot slots into place, leaving only the rough bark of an old tree behind.
Time to go. My cloak drags the ground as I walk; the weighted fringe erasing the final sign that I was ever here.
I force myself not to hurry. If I move faster, my feet will grind the ice pellets into a layer too dense to be disguised by my cloak.
Veydra master Barthol hammered the limitations of the cloak into my head from a young age. He had no patience for an eight-year-old’s clumsiness or games of any kind.
“Be invisible,” he snarled, his voice an odd mixture of menace and calm. “The veydran duty is to pass unnoticed. You’re no one, Riven, and if you can’t convince me and the world of that, you’ll be nothing.”
I hated his words. Hated how he walked. How he talked. How his preferred face—hulking and cruel—seemed to quiver and froth as he spoke.
But I kept my reservations to myself.
I learned to walk stealthily.
Learned to lie.
Learned to steal another person’s essence as my own, going deeper than the skin, and scooping enough of their magic into myself to experience a whisper of what makes them tick.
Any veydra can identify birth marks and freckles and hairstyles, but only the best can become their target, absorbing everything—from the way they move to the way they think.
It’s painfully simple, really. In order to become, you must first see, and I mastered that long before I studied under Barthol.
The amber mask I wear is my lone rebellion.
Most veydran can’t stomach the sight of our binding, but I don’t want to forget. Inhumanly smooth and impossible to ignore, it belongs to me alone. And if I can’t be myself, I’ll be damned if I pretend to be someone else.
That’s why Celine fascinates me.
Her sense of self is unshakable. It makes me wonder what it would be like to go through life confidently. Fiercely vibrant. If I’m not careful, my curiosity will destroy me, leaving me as empty and husk-like as Luca thinks I am.
A twig snaps.
It could be nothing, but I know better.
My hand hovers above my pocket. I’ve got enough distance between me and the tree . . . I could use the witch stone to transport myself home without leaving a trace of Hyacinth’s magic that could lead someone to the tree.
But I want to know what I’m up against.
Slowly, I scan the forest. Nothing catches my eye. Blotting out my view of the curved horizon, the trees stretch into the clouds. They’re doing their best to get as far away from this cursed realm as the rest of us.
The feeling of being watched rakes over my skin.
It could be a bird, but my gut tells me it’s not. Get out of here. Listening to my instincts, I stuff my hand in my pocket and squeeze the stone.
The forest vanishes. Nausea combines with dread as I’m transported home, and by the time I’m spat into the living room, a sense of foreboding sinks its claws into me.
I glance up. It’s a mistake. The angles of the living room spin, warp, and collide at mismatched speeds. Groaning, I grab the back of the couch and wait for my body to adjust.
My stomach settles, then flips again when I realize I’m not alone.
Celine is standing in the corner, her red hair neatly braided.
My skin pebbles as she watches me. The sensation is both similar and different to the one in the forest. A contradiction, like the angel in front of me. She’s made of sharp, efficient lines stacked on smooth, generous curves.
I’ve memorized them all. And she’s driving me mad.
Why can’t I stop thinking about her? Or staring at her? Or imagining what’s happening in her head?
Nothing has made sense since we faced each other in the ring. It should have been a routine job. I was excited to be away from the monster realm, but I wasn’t supposed to find her refusal to conform so fascinating.
Celine bristled with passion. Blades, flames. Her fighting style was and is brutal, with a calculated edge of recklessness that’s nearly impossible to predict accurately.
Even wearing a dead man’s face, I ended up being the one surprised. Because I felt more alive when she hurt me than I had in years.
I thought it was the best job I’d ever taken. Now, I fear it will be my last.
“You look determined,” I say, pleased when my voice comes out steady.
Celine makes a low sound in her throat and shrugs. “I have to be, don’t I?”
My eyebrows lift. “Sure, but I meant it in a less abstract way.” I gesture to her posture, one step away from a fighting stance. “You look like you’ve been standing there for half an hour, gearing up for an interrogation.”
She glances at the empty archway leading to the rest of the house. “Can we talk in private?”
My fingers spasm around the back of the couch. I don’t have a clue what she’ll say next.
I should hate it.
“Follow me,” I say quietly, prying my fingers off the leather and hanging my cloak on the spike before leading her to my room.
We pass their room on the way. The voices behind the closed door are muffled. Are they fighting? Surely Celine isn’t trying to use me to make them jealous. The idea gives me a thrill. Then the glass wall forces me to acknowledge my reflection, and I flinch.
I’m a fool. They’d never be jealous of me, and she knows that.
Celine follows me into my room. She moves with liquid sensuality, waves crashing on the beach. Too aggressive to be simply pretty, her gait is the split-second buildup before an all-out sprint.
She closes the door behind us, and her shoulders droop.
I take a startled step toward her before I can stop myself. “What’s wrong, darling?”
Celine opens her mouth, closes it again, then rolls her bottom lip between her teeth. “When my father hired you . . .” She leans forward while keeping her feet firmly planted. “Did he mention if anyone else was working for him?”
The hairs on my arms stand on end. This isn’t a casual question, and we both know it.
Celine needs my answer, but she doesn’t want it.
I turn to my closet and shuffle through the clothes. I don’t need a clean shirt, but I do need a moment to gather myself. She sees too much.
“Riven, please . . .” her voice is earnest.
My eyes flutter shut. “I suspect your father has many people on his payroll.” I turn to face her, the shirt I don’t need hanging from my fingers. “That’s the impression he gave me, at least. Without specifics, of course.”
“Of course,” she echoes me, and her wings sag. Not low enough for the tips to drag the floor, but low enough for me to know I’ve let her down.
“I’ve disappointed you.” I glance at her curled fingers. “Or someone else has.”
Her chin shoots up, locking in the stubborn tilt I’ve come to expect from her. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
A flicker of frustration passes through her eyes. “Forever my downfall,” she mutters, ruffling her wings. “And part of the reason I’m in this mess to begin with.”
I sit on the edge of my bed and relax my shoulders. I don’t want Celine to see me as a threat. I want her to keep confiding in me. Every piece of the puzzle she reveals brings me closer to the full picture.
“Your father lacks many things,” I murmur. “But there’s no limit to his hunger. He won’t be satisfied with controlling the celestial realm for long. In his pursuit of you, he aimed his sights outward, and he likes what he sees.”
Celine’s hands fist. She paces, drawing a straight line from my bedroom door to the wall and back again.
“What am I supposed to do with that information, Riven? I know he’s a psycho. I know he’s power hungry. And I’m more than familiar with his compulsion to target those he considers weaker.”
She waves her hands. “So what would you have me do? Hand myself over to him? Hope I get a lucky shot in while his back is turned? Maybe I should march home, kick down the front gates, and challenge him to a duel, huh?”
I lock my jaw, refusing to interrupt her before she’s done.
“Hey, Dad, remember when you told me you wouldn’t knock the shit out of me or Mom anymore if I could beat you in a fight?
I’m finally ready, let’s go again! Except I want to renegotiate on behalf of the whole universe.
I kick your ass now and you’ll skip off into the eternal beyond. Do we have a deal?”
She scoffs, the sound dripping with bitterness. “Because that would go really fucking well, wouldn’t it, Riven? One snap of his fingers. One whispered command, and I’m back in that prison he calls a home, wishing I was dead.”
I shoot to my feet and block her path.
“Absolutely not,” I hiss. “You’ve been hanging around with too many idiots with hero complexes if you think I’d suggest a stupid plan like that.”
“You’re in my way.” Celine looks pointedly at me, but I refuse to budge.
“I only mentioned your father’s greed to remind you that it’s not all about you.
It’s never been about you.” I grip her shoulders, resisting the urge to shake some sense into her.
“Wake up, darling. A whole world exists beyond the scope of your truth. Lies, deceit, and cunning—you need all of them to kill a monster, and if you can’t accept that, you’ll never be strong enough to destroy him. ”
Her eyes shutter. She’s not ready to hear this.
I drop my hands.
Her body brushes mine from hip to shoulder as she storms from the room. I fall back on the bed and groan. She invaded my space, bathed everything in her scent, and now there’s no escape for me.
I didn’t give Celine what she wanted, but I don’t regret it. They’re the answers she needed, and the only ones I’m willing to give her right now. She’s as infectious as her father, and for a monster like me, there’s nothing more dangerous.