Chapter 66
Lex
SIXTEEN YEARS AGO
“You need to tell him,” Ilyas quietly urged into my ear as we strode across the emptying training field toward the halls of the Academy. Dark clouds rolled across the sky, the air tasting sweet with the promise of cool, fall rain. It was fitting that the weather was reflecting my mood today.
I grunted a noncommittal reply while fiddling with the crystals in the cuff around my right wrist. They’d been depleting quicker than normal, and one was cracked entirely, completely unable to store any of my Pain Magic.
That side of my magic felt restless and agitated—incomplete.
I first noticed it when I Bonded with Ilyas nearly a year ago, but initially discounted the feeling, thinking it was simply the other half of my magic reacting to not having a Bond.
But the restlessness and hungry need for more only intensified the more the Bond between Ilyas and I deepened. The more I drew from him as my Pleasure Vessel, the more I was painfully aware of an absence.
It was starting to eat at my psyche and was affecting the relationship with my Bonded.
I was quicker to anger—frustrated by both the lack of a second Bond and at myself for not simply being content with the one Bond I possessed.
Bonds—especially True Bonds like Ilyas and I—were becoming rarer by the day, it seemed.
So why I couldn’t just appreciate what I had instead of wishing for what I didn’t was frustrating beyond measure.
“He’ll want to know this,” Ilyas tried again, his voice low and cajoling.
I exhaled heavily, cracking my neck before responding.
Ilyas was right, as usual, General d’Alvey would want to hear about the struggles I was having drawing my Pain Magic.
My inabilities and shortcomings could affect my entire regiment, which would be unacceptable in the general’s eyes, especially with tensions rising between the Southern Territories and the Northern Alliance.
It felt like we were balancing on a knife’s edge; any action from either side could plunge Elyria into yet another civil war.
Which was reason enough not to discuss my latest issues with Rohak.
I don’t need to burden him further than the stress he is undoubtedly under.
Ilyas let out a noise of exasperation, clearly taking my lack of response for disagreement.
There were times, like this, that I wished I could communicate through my Bond to Ilyas—but the Bond only permitted certain understandings, all of which related to using or storing power.
I could sense when he was tired and worn out from me drawing too much, and I could feel essence flowing from his body into my own.
But that was the extent of our internal knowledge.
It was frustrating being so close to another person but not having the ability to actually communicate anything significant.
“He doesn’t need me complaining,” I muttered as the doors swung open of their own accord, and Ilyas and I strode inside, bypassing the mess hall in favor of our shared room. My Bonded shot me a look that was pure judgement, and I gritted my teeth in annoyance.
“You mean the man who asks you every day how you’re feeling would be annoyed with you actually telling him for once?” The big man snorted as we climbed the stairs together, always in sync.
I sighed again, my steps faltering as we neared our room.
Ilyas continued for a few feet before turning to regard me, standing still, my hands pushed deep in the pockets of my black training pants.
My ever perceptive Bonded closed the distance between us, taking me into his arms immediately. I leaned into his chest, pulling strength from his embrace.
“He’s trying,” Ilyas mumbled into my hair. “I know it’s not enough, but he is trying.”
I nodded against his chest, and Ilyas released me with one final squeeze. Unable to meet his eyes, I scuffed a boot against the floor.
“Yeah, I know. Maybe I will go tell him,” I said, finally meeting Ilyas’ eyes, only to avert my own again as his look of pure understanding flayed me open.
Instead of interrogating me further, Ilyas simply nodded his head once before gently pushing me in the direction of the stairs without another word.
Ilyas was right, the General was trying. He’d distanced himself initially after I survived the Awakening experiments, but when it became obvious that I wasn’t going to approach him, Rohak made it a mission to close the distance between us and repent for his sins against me.
The most fucked-up part of it was I had already forgiven him.
A soft murmur of urgent conversation punctuated occasionally by a louder, more insistent voice bled through the cracked door that led to the General’s office in the Academy.
I was shocked that he was even in this room—generally he preferred his office in the administration building across the street, but since I was already in the Academy, I figured I would check here first before trekking across the vast open square.
His presence, coupled with the cacophony of voices streaming from the open door, pulled at my curiosity, and I paused just outside.
“That is not a viable option,” General d’Alvey’s cool, commanding tone broke above the sea of voices, silencing the other parties for a brief moment.
“And why is it not?” Lord d’Refan’s tone was hard and biting, barely suppressed rage bubbling beneath the surface. “We have the numbers, the irrefutable evidence.”
“Are you certain it’s so concrete, or do you just wish it to be so?” Rohak never rose to Lord d’Refan’s bait, keeping his voice at a low rumble.
Lord d’Refan growled at his general, and I winced in response.
“If I may . . .” The third voice was soft and lilting, incredibly familiar but entirely foreign at the same time.
“No, you may not,” Lord d’Refan barked, and the voice fell silent.
“Truthsayer, if you’ll recall, I was the one who elected to stay here as your .
. . advisor after my time in your house ended.
I am the one who chose to betray my people; shouldn’t that be evidence enough of my trustworthiness?
” The familiarity of his voice pulled at the back of my mind, but I frustratingly couldn’t recall it.
Lord d’Refan huffed.
“Yes, but choosing Vespera and Kaos over your goddess and home is one thing—sanctioning their destruction is something entirely different.”
My blood turned to ice at the flippancy in Lord d’Refan’s voice.
“Perhaps we should ask the Mage standing outside the door?”
Abruptly, the door swung all the way open, revealing the General’s dark, sparse office and the three men standing just inside.
Lord d’Refan stood in front of me, hand clutching the knob of the door, his face masked with murderous rage.
“What did you hear?” he ground out.
My mouth flapped open and closed uselessly, like a fish out of water, before Lord d’Refan extended a hand and yanked me inside the room, closing the door with a bang behind me.
He dragged me to the center of the men before releasing me with a huff. I stood awkwardly, aimlessly patting down my black tunic and pants to avoid looking each of the men in the eye.
Fuck, what did I get myself into?
When I finally looked up from my rumpled clothes, I noticed the General’s pained expression that mirrored my own inner thoughts.
Lord d’Refan’s back was to me, filling a glass of whiskey from the bar cart in the corner, but his posture screamed frustration.
The third man, I finally recognized as the Keeper I met on my first day in the Academy.
“How is Matamuri?” I asked the man, remembering his daughter from a brief conversation we had years ago. I mean to ease some of the thick tension in the room, but it only seemed to ratchet higher.
Lord d’Refan let out a bark of mirthless laughter before draining his entire glass of whiskey. The Keeper’s eyes tightened at the corners and his lips thinned at my question.
“She is back home in the Valley,” he muttered. “Thank you for asking.”
Though he didn’t seem all that thankful.
“That’s . . . good?” I asked, much to the amusement of Lord d’Refan.
“Sure. If spilling political secrets to her goddess and Matriarch is good,” he spat, spittle and venom flying with his words.
I reared back slightly, eyebrows hitting my hairline at his admission.
I’m just a soldier. There is no reason for him to tell me this.
General d’Alvey, noticing my discomfort, placed a heavy hand on my shoulder.
“It’s . . . what we’d been discussing”—he nodded at the other two men—“when you approached the door. It must not have been closed all the way.” He gave the Keeper a meaningful look, who simply shrugged in response, a slight maniacal grin edging up his face.
“Is there something you needed, Lex?” The General turned his full attention on me, and I saw concern pinching his brow.
“Yes, but it’s not vitally important. I can just come back later,” I said quietly while slowly backing away from the group.
The General nodded his head, quickly shuffling me out the door, but we were stopped by Lord d’Refan’s cutting voice.
“The boy stays.”
General d’Alvey’s shoulders tensed before slumping, the grip on my shoulder tightening to an almost painful level.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, almost too quiet for even me to hear.
“He’s heard enough to make him complicit in what happens next. Can’t have him blathering State secrets now, can I?” Lord d’Refan’s tone was lethal, and when I spun to regard him, his face was hardened stone.
I inadvertently gulped.
“I won’t say anything,” I promised, trying my best to edge out of the door and away from whatever was happening in this room.
“No, you won’t,” Lord d’Refan said casually as he sipped from yet another nearly full tumbler of whiskey.
“Because if you do, not only will I let you burn out from your Pain Magic”—my eyes flew wide at the fact that he knew about the struggles with my magic— “which will inevitably kill that Vessel you care so deeply about. But I will find those brothers and sisters of yours. How many are there now? Ten? And I’ll ensure that their lives are not worth living. Do you understand?”
He delivered his threat unhurried, with an air of confidence that I would simply obey him.
My heart beat wildly in my chest as sweat coursed down my neck and back, my hands balling into fists at my sides.
He had me, and he knew it. I knew the type of horrors and pain Lord d’Refan could inflict, and it was not something I’d ever wish on what remained of my family. Even the woman who called herself my mother.
“Fine,” I bit out. “At least we have similar collateral,” I edged, and Lord d’Refan smiled—a terrible thing.
“Indeed,” he intoned. “Now, the first issue at hand.” He drained his glass before setting it on the General’s desk with a thunk. Crossing his arms as he leaned against the desk, he turned to face me and the General.
“You’re burning through your Pain crystals at an alarming rate,” he stated matter-of-factly and held up a hand when I went to ask how he knew that. “I have eyes and ears everywhere, Mage.”
I shut my mouth and nodded jerkily, trying to figure out who could be reporting back to Lord d’Refan.
Ilyas? Surely not my own Bonded . . .
“I have a female Pain Vessel who is unBonded arriving with the next Samyrian Vessel exchange. You will Bond her, which fixes your little crystal problem.”
He paused, and I took a fortifying breath.
“And in exchange?” I ground out, already knowing that Lord d’Refan would request payment.
He smiled that terrifying, predatory grin again.
“You’re catching on quickly,” he purred, and his eyes danced slightly before settling again on my face. “I imagine you know the intimate details of pain?”
His question was so antagonistic, so taunting. As if he were goading me to fall back into the memories of my time beneath the Academy.
I nodded my head once.
“Perfect,” he whispered. “You will help the General devise a battle plan, then. One that causes pain and destruction—one that leaves none alive.”
My throat tightened involuntarily.
“Scope and location?” I asked dutifully.
“Oh, just a small town, a village really.” He waved his hand noncommittally, and I turned to the General, the same question in my eyes, terrified of his answer.
“The Valley,” he intoned, all inflection in his voice gone as if he had completely shut down his emotions.
The Valley was a small village cut off from the rest of society.
The majority, if not all of the Keepers lived there, working together in relative peace and harmony.
They’d never, to my knowledge, openly attacked.
In fact, they sent their own people—people who could see futures and visions—to aid rulers in decisions. They helped people.
My heart broke at the part I would have to play in all of this. Orchestrating their destruction?
Who am I?
“Why?” I whispered, turning back to Lord d’Refan.
“They have something that Kaos needs,” he said evenly, as if the potential death of an entire people didn’t affect him. “And, like I said, that bitch of a girl potentially exposed our secrets to the rest of Elyria. It’s a safety breach that simply cannot stand.”
“But why the Valley? Why all of them?”
Lord d’Refan’s face hardened at my continual questions, and the General squeezed my shoulder in silent warning. I shut my mouth, not wanting to push any further, seeing how clearly Lord d’Refan was on edge.
His eyes shook with restrained madness and rage.
“They have a hive mind. What one knows, they all know. The only way to ensure that Vespera survives, that we are safe, is to eliminate the entire threat.”
My blood turned to ice at his calm conviction, and it was entirely evident to me at this point that the man in front of me wasn’t a lord. He didn’t want the best for other nations, or really even his people. No, he wanted complete control and annihilation of those who didn’t bow.
Only one word came to mind.
Warlord.