Chapter 9 #2
“You shouldn’t be so hard on her,” Darian says. “You don’t know what it’s like to lose…”
“Don’t start with me, Uncle. If she was so damned miserable, she should have killed herself like any responsible person would.
Not burn the world and her son so she could have what she wanted.
Regardless, let’s not muddy the water by talking about my parents.
How is Sidon?” he asks Rhion. “I noticed a recent wound across his belly.”
Rhion curses. “Damned Stormbringer caught him as we were leaving the battlefield. Luckily, he was wearing a bit of armor I’ve been working on, so it was only a wound instead of something worse. I don’t know why they give two shits about us saving a few villages of humans.”
“Inni always gets a little nervous when we deal with Marek’s troops as well. She always tells me how dragons fear little other than lightning and the Hunters. I’m surprised he even flew you into a battle with Stormbringers. Inni’s told me to fly myself more than a few times.”
It’s strange watching them talk about their dragons like this, like they aren’t the most terrifying things on Nyth.
It’s even stranger how personable Azric seems to be around Rhion and Darian.
I’m a little concerned he may recognize me, but he’s said nothing about our first meeting yet, so maybe I’m safe?
Then he turns to me and smiles. “Now, who is this lovely young woman? You don’t have nearly enough years on you to be entering something like this, darling.”
Darian says, “This is Fiona. Ainslee put out a call for volunteers in Selithar for people who’d compete in the trials on her behalf and she’s the only one who agreed to come.”
The Prince of Bones arches an eyebrow and smiles just enough that I know he recognizes me. “Interesting. My dear Aunt Ainslee has always had unusual acquaintances, so I guess it’s not all that surprising.”
Burn it all. I used two Marks in front of him, so he knows I have the powers of a Priest. No human could do what I’d done otherwise.
He knows I stole from him. If he tells anyone about me, I won’t have to wait for the trials to kill me.
They’ll drag me out of Draenyth, and there’ll be nothing I can do save use the Mark of Peace to take my own life.
I do my best not to let on, but I can’t keep my hands from shaking. I don’t know what to do.
A long tense moment passes, and then he puts on a mask of a smile before turning back to Darian. “May Veris watch over you, Uncle. I’ll be cheering for you when you win. Enjoy your evening.”
Then he disappears in a cloud of shadows, and it’s like Rhion and Darian can finally breathe again. “We’re going to talk about that later,” Darian whispers intensely to me. I don’t have a chance to say anything in response as the next moment, everyone’s attention is drawn to the center of the room.
A man floats several feet above the ground, but I know instinctively that this is no man. Like smoke being pulled up a chimney flue, everyone is drawn to him. He’s no larger than any other man, but everything in me knows this is Nyxthos himself.
He has pale, flawless skin with thin black eyebrows. The rest of his body is wreathed in a cloak made of what can only be shadows. At his sides are daggers which glow with a black light, similar to how the Mark of the Cloak glows when it’s activated, only magnified a thousand times as bright.
It’s not his appearance that draws my attention, though. It’s the feeling of being in front of true divinity. I don’t know what to do, whether I should kneel or go to him just to be closer to him. In the end, like nearly everyone else in the room, I stand rooted in place.
“Welcome to my trials, competitors,” a dark, almost serpentine voice echoes through the room, and yet it sounds as though he’s speaking only to me.
“Over the next two months, you will compete to become the next Champion of Darkness and Secrets. There are but two rules you must abide by while here. You may not leave Castle Lachlan, and there will be no violence in the Great Hall to protect our illustrious guests who aren’t taking part in the trials.
Otherwise, I will leave you to sort things out yourselves.
The first trial you will experience starts tonight at the stroke of midnight.
Prepare yourself, for whatever you have on your person will be taken to the trial along with you. ”
He slowly spins, his eyes seeming to meet each of our gazes.
“May the Darkness embrace each of you.” He continues to spin, his eyes moving amongst the crowd, and he slowly changes, his cloak made of shadows covering more and more of him until only the black glow of his eyes and daggers are visible.
Then they’re not, and the shadows dissipate.
“Horse shit,” Rhion mumbles. “You need to get to a room now, Fiona. If you have a way to do it without anyone noticing you, that’d be for the best. People are about to realize they can thin out the competition by murdering each other in the hallways.
Darian, how about the two of us create a bit of a distraction before anyone’s noticed Fiona’s here? ”
Darian nods, a wide grin on his face, and they immediately move toward the center of the room. I consider using my Mark of Shadow to go directly to the stairs upward to the bedrooms, but I quickly disregard that thought. I need my Marks for the later trials.
My mind runs through my various Infusions.
I have an arsenal of them on me, and no one would notice me taking one.
The Cat would be useful, but it won’t do anything to keep people from noticing me.
The Chameleon would be perfect, but it’s a power that almost no one in this room has, and it certainly won’t last long enough to get me all the way to the stairs.
No, there aren’t any ways to make my way out of this room any less conspicuous.
Instead, I move toward the wall, skirting any larger groups of people. They barely take me in since I’m not wearing anything that’d mark me as someone to fear or take notice of. It’s exactly what I want. I move through the shadows as often as possible, doing my best not to look like I’m skulking.
“Look who actually showed up,” a familiar voice that I definitely didn’t want to hear.
I turn to see the Corpsebinder with long black hair tied back in an intricate braid.
Serica Dramont. “Fiona, wasn’t it? Are you leaving already?
Don’t you want anything to eat or drink first?
Maybe we could make a plate and bring it upstairs? ”
She reaches for my hand, and I pull back. Her eyes go wide, and she takes a step back, her pale face going almost ghostly white. “Serica, darling,” a seductive voice says from behind me. “You said you wanted to go upstairs?”
She stammers, and Azric glides around me toward her, his feet seeming to be held up by the shadows beneath them.
His hand goes to her cheek just as it did to mine when I was in his chambers.
The backs of his bright red nails run from her temple to the crook of her neck, and he leans down to get closer to her.
“I didn’t know that you enjoyed a woman’s company.
Are you sure you aren’t interested in men as well? ”
She shakes her head, absolute fear claiming her and rendering her speechless. “That’s too bad. We could have had a bit of fun before you have to run along to your trial.”
Then he turns away from her, and it’s like she’s been released from chains, a feeling I know all too well.
He holds my gaze, and Serica immediately turns and nearly runs away from us.
Azric takes two steps toward me, and my heart races.
There’s no violence in the Great Hall. No one breaks the gods’ rules.
The thought keeps me from running, but it’s not enough to keep my body from shaking.
I knew he recognized me. “Look, Uncle Darian and Rhion are about to give you a chance to escape the party.” I turn to look at them. Darian is walking into a group of Burning Ones with Rhion on his heels. Immediately, they scream at him, and the sound makes me cover my ears.
Darian holds up his hands as if he didn’t mean to offend them, and Azric whispers softly in my ear. “Now, no one will notice you leaving with me.”
He puts his hand on the exposed skin of my forearm, and suddenly, we’re in that darkness outside of Nyth.