Chapter 26
Between their jobs and analyzing the grimoire, Amelia and her team seemed to have forgotten I was part of it.
I hadn’t heard from them and hoped that when they discovered anything, they’d let me know.
Amelia made a point of briefing me, but I couldn’t help but feel excluded for more reasons than I wasn’t part of their coven.
I suspected that along with learning about the grimoire, they were spending their time discovering what they could about ashinwas, Umbryth, and draveths.
Ashinwas were probably at the top of their list.
Staring down at the number I’d saved as Him as a precaution to keep anyone from discovering the seemingly casual relationship I had with a shadow god, I read his text.
Him
Are you here?
I preferred him popping into my house than the peculiar feeling of receiving texts from the deity of death. I sent a short response.
Yup
Seconds later, the doorbell rang. Opening it, I found him standing ramrod straight, wearing a midnight-black coat with razor-sharp lines, tailored to fit his frame.
The striking uniform flared into a split tailcoat, allowing his easy, lethal, water-fluid movements.
In the center of his coat, a precision V-shaped scale embossment was ornamented by discs of sigils in imperial purple.
Its unfamiliar significance held my curiosity.
The high collar framed his throat, drawing the eye to the sharp angles of his jaw.
The sleek design of the sleeves complemented the sinews of his arms. The midnight-black pants were minimalist, cut lean for ease of movement and paired with knee-high leather boots.
His attire was a statement of his position in Umbryth that I’d clearly underestimated.
He displayed a confidence in his position of power, influence, and belonging in both worlds.
Most importantly, a reminder of who he was. Death and everything it embodied.
Entering my home, the shimmer from his cloak disappeared.
Expecting to spend my day in the city, I had on a crisp white plunge-neck tee draped casually over my frame, skimming my breasts.
The ruched design followed the curve of my waist and accentuated the high-waisted, form-fitting blue jeans.
It was accompanied by a jade-green duster and mid-calf length lace-ups.
The heels gave me a small height advantage with Cirrian, but in his new attire, he seemed exceedingly tall.
His eyes went to the bold, oversized, layered gold necklace.
Knowing me for an inkling of time would prove it was not my style.
I was wearing it in response to a life that was spiraling away from what it had been the past three years.
I was feeling untethered and had decided to do something different. Bold. A little chaotic.
Cirrian’s pensive expression made me think there were about to be more changes. Maybe he’d lied, and he’d show me some clemency, even pity, over my life being dismantled, piece by piece.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, stepping aside to let him in.
“I need you to come with me.” The heavy urgency in his voice made it impossible to decline.
“Of course.” I grabbed my bag.
“You won’t need that.” Need, maybe not, but it had pepper spray, my blade, a Taser, and my phone.
And I wanted—no, needed all of them with me.
He didn’t seem to mind when I extended the straps on the bucket bag, making it into a crossbody.
Once I was settled, he pulled me to him.
Magic whirred from him; my mark warmed and blazed to life.
A heartbeat later, we were a short distance from a massive sand-colored stone building that blended military strength with the breathtaking beauty of a palace.
“Welcome to the Laytherium,” he whispered against my ear.
Stepping away from him, I turned in a circle, in awe of the vibrant, lush trees that formed a vegetative gate around the building, and the mountains behind it with a number of beautiful homes atop them.
The land was beautiful. I could feel Cirrian’s eyes on me.
A glance at him showed he appeared fascinated by my response to something that, I gathered from the way he looked at the building, was probably common to him.
I looked for ways to get to the houses through the throng of trees and brush but didn’t see any visible paths or roads.
It made me uneasy, so as a distraction I returned my attention to the building about ten yards away, taking in the citadel masquerading as a palace whose sole purpose appeared to inspire awe and dread equally.
The polished sandstone structure rose in sweeping arcs. Tall, fluted towers anchored each corner and were topped with sunlit domes of deep, aged bronze. Domed bridges connected the soaring towers with delicate latticework in contrast to the sturdy, fortified nature of the structure.
Guards stood in front of it, dressed similarly to Cirrian.
Their uniforms were accompanied by armored vests with variously colored engraved insignias.
Maybe they represented different territories of Umbryth, or realms. Surprised that the entrance to the Laytherium was secured by guards and not a gate, I surmised the absence of a gate probably spoke of confidence that bordered on arrogance.
Cirrian’s mood hadn’t lifted; his long strides toward the building were quick as he marched toward the keep, putting me at a jog to keep up.
Up close, the structure was even more magnificent.
Geometric-patterned glass covered in a smoky patina inset the arched windows.
Obsidian double doors were decorated with intricate veined designs of molten smoked copper-bronze.
Magic pulsed around us like an erratic heartbeat.
“Cirrian, I believe it would be considered highly inappropriate and a blatant disregard of protocol to have an ephemeral here.”
What the hell did he call me? A flash. A transient being? To immortals, we were, but they could have chosen something that didn’t make me feel like a mosquito.
“It is necessary,” Cirrian said.
The guard didn’t move.
“Let me notify Lord Zyran that you deem it necessary to breach protocol. And with an ephemeral, furthermore.” He nodded to another guard, who saluted before turning to leave the landing, glorious black wings with amber gold tips that matched the emblem on his uniform, extending from his back.
Cirrian closed the distance between them.
“Myzeil, that is unnecessary. I ask that you reconsider.” It started off as an earnest plea but lost some of its entreating tone as it migrated into a low growl of warning.
Myzeil’s pale steel blue-gray eyes held humor rather than offense.
With a slight nod, the other guard’s wings snapped out of view and he returned to his position.
“Do not take long.” He looked at me, his lips dipping into a moue. Cirrian’s surprising clasp of my hand made it deepen.
At our approach, the doors swung inward without a sound.
I was met with a warm, spicy scent with hints of jasmine and tinged with the smell of evergreen courtesy of the massive woodland surrounding us.
The breathtaking grandeur of the space deepened.
Before me was a grand atrium bathed in a medley of light.
Cirrian released my hand, giving me a chance to explore.
In a world where magic was collected and death resided, I’d expected something somber.
The ethereal light came from more than just the crystal chandelier in the domed ceiling; it danced off the design in it that appeared to be more significant than merely decorative.
The design was mirrored in the meticulous etching of the pillars.
Moving closer, I examined them, tracing the unique swirls, angles, and patterns.
“It’s not just for decoration, is it?” I asked.
I hadn’t noticed that Cirrian had eased up behind me.
He placed his hands next to mine, his fingers running over the inscription in the pillars.
“It is our pledge to protect the magic at all costs and a reminder of what happens if we fail,” he offered, reverence in his tone.
The seriousness of his demeanor made me understand that he wasn’t driven by a self-entitled sense of importance.
Along with their immense powers came equal responsibilities, rules, restrictions, and problems. Vina was a reminder of what immense power could do, and she’d been bridled because of her trust in and underestimation of Amelia.
Turning to face him, my forehead rested against his chest. “Thank you for saving me from Diehle,” I whispered, “and for sparing Amelia’s life.” He moved his arm, I thought to embrace me, but instead he took several tentative steps back.
Putting more distance between us, I paused a few inches from a fountain of liquid silver that bubbled silently, twirling and darkening to form the most perfect image of a copper-skinned woman with defined features that lingered between stark beauty and quiet grace.
Her sharp eyes held me transfixed for several beats before I was pulled by the Gemini symbol next to her that shimmered away and was replaced by two massive midnight wolves that reminded me of Magnus.
“Who is this?” I asked.
“Goddess Annessa,” Cirrian provided, the same admiration, warmth, and sorrow in his voice as at every mention of her. “It’s a tribute to her. She’d have much preferred a statue where we’d be obligated to show some reverence, perhaps kissing her feet or a deep genuflection.”
A small smile curled his lips; his features softened with a look of happy reminiscence.
“Was she your first love?”