Chapter 24
‘My brother is an imposter. He is not the man he claims to be.
Do not trust him.’
— Unsent written correspondence from Paulyr Moros
The Vulture
“I don’t understand,” The Vulture whispered in the dark alleyway. “Why do you need me to stay in the capitol? Your targets could very well be on their way off of the continent by now.”
Even under Eryx’s hooded cloak, The Vulture could see his lilac eyes peering down at them from underneath it. His eyes were eerie. Untrustworthy. The Vulture was starting to lose hope that this could work.
“I still feel him through the Oathmark. They haven’t left yet. I can’t afford to lose track of the Luciens, and neither can you. Someone needs to stay behind. Do you still have the dagger?”
The Vulture nodded, subduing their irritation.
Time was running out. The Luciens had gone on complete lockdown, enhancing their security after the ball.
More guards had been stationed in and around the castle than ever before.
They had even drafted Nobornes from the poverty ring so they could send their best guards to go after the fugitives.
The Vulture glanced around wearily, eyeing the scorch marks in the gravel–remnants of the lightning that had struck down their spy.
“The dagger should remain on your person at all times. Keep an eye on the royals while I am away. If things go sideways, I’ll have further instructions delivered to you by my Guild. You will inherit it and all its assets.”
“I have no interest in your Guild,” The Vulture snapped, annoyed.
They removed the satchel of salaroses from their shoulder and handed the massive bag of florals over to Eryx.
There had to have been at least one hundred flowers in the bag.
The Vulture had spent days using their resources to gather that much herb.
Whatever Eryx needed them for, it better be a good reason.
“Good. This will speed things along.” Eryx muttered as he fished through the bag, ensuring all the flowers were there.
“Why do you need those?”
Eryx plucked an onyx flower out and twirled it within his fingers. Truly, the roses were mesmerizing. Never had The Vulture seen a plant so naturally black. The petals were as soft as velvet, their fragrance sweet. They were rare. It had certainly taken some time to find enough for the Guildmaster.
“These roses weren’t crafted by the Gods. They were crafted by Witches. Each petal contains Black Magick, and can be used for casting spells, or portals.”
“Portals?” The Vulture asked in disbelief. Magick that could draw portals had died hundreds of years ago. Could it really be true?
“Yes. I need a lot to conjure a portal far enough to where I believe Taryn is. It’s not exactly easy casting spells in a land where Magick is near extinct.”
“I don’t understand. If he swore an Oathmark to you, can’t you command him to do your bidding?”
Eryx dropped the flower back in the bag and slung it over his shoulder with a smug expression. “Not exactly. It’s a direct tie to a soul. I can inflict pain remotely, physically and mentally, but I cannot compel him with it. That is what the compulsion ring is for.”
The Vulture rolled their eyes. “You idiot. You should have just compelled him. Remind me how you got your place at the Guild again?”
Eryx scoffed. “It takes one hit, one crack for a wall to come crumbling down, unleashing all the suppressed power behind it. Compelling him would have been his last straw. Then, we would be up against two powerful beings. Would you want that?”
The Vultured sighed, “No.”
Eryx nodded in approval. “Good. You are learning, Vulture. You cannot fight fyre with fyre.”