Chapter 13 Share Your Table with a Hero #3
“Power, probably. Or to fuel something.” I glanced at Arabella, who was absently touching her temple where the Heirloom had merged. “The point is, he’s rounded up most of the heroic bloodlines in Solandris, and we have good reason to believe he just sacrificed them.”
“That’s why he wanted Sebastian as property,” Griffin said, his eyes widening. “Not just for political leverage, but for—”
“Ritual purposes,” Vex finished grimly.
“The outpost was embarrassingly easy to take,” I continued. “My shadow constructs are stronger than ever—I can summon more each day without strain. If not for this setback, we’d already be marching on the capital.”
“Once we control the ley lines, none of Auremar’s schemes will matter,” Vex said.
“Except we can’t control them while they’re corrupted,” I corrected.
I told Vex, Thorne, and Griffin what we’d discovered about the ley lines, leaving out the detail that the Heirloom was currently residing in my wife’s skull.
When I finished, Griffin was practically bouncing in his seat. “The magical theory alone is fascinating! To corrupt an entire network of ley lines would require—”
“It would require murdering dozens of people with heroic blood,” Arabella said flatly. “Maybe hundreds.”
The table went quiet.
I drummed my fingers against the table. “The fool doesn’t even know what he’s doing.”
“What do you mean?” Arabella asked.
“Auremar.” I practically spat the name. “He’s trying to siphon power from Solandris—from the Shadow King’s prison, if our intelligence is true.
But he’s an idiot playing with forces beyond his comprehension.
” My jaw clenched. “He thinks he can control it, draw from it like a well, but instead he’s poisoning the entire network. ”
“You think it’s accidental?” Vex’s silver eyes narrowed. “The corruption?”
“Of course it’s accidental,” I snapped. “Auremar’s many things—a tyrant, a murderer, a hypocrite—but he’s not suicidal. Corrupting the ley lines undermines his own kingdom’s defenses. No, this is pure incompetence. He’s reached for power and grabbed a viper instead.”
My hand tightened around my empty glass. The thought of that golden-crowned fool bumbling his way into continental catastrophe made my blood burn. I forced my fingers to relax before the glass shattered.
“He’s probably been at it for years,” I continued, reaching for the decanter. “Slowly bleeding whatever’s down there, not realizing he’s letting something else seep out. Something that’s rotting the ley lines from within.”
“But what could be powerful enough to—” Griffin started.
“I don’t know.” I took a long pull from my glass, letting the spirit burn away the bitter edge of my ignorance. “But whatever it is, Auremar’s incompetence has turned it into our problem.”
“So this isn’t just about conquest anymore,” Thorne said slowly. “If Auremar’s corrupting the ley lines—”
“The damage could spread,” Vex finished. “To neighboring kingdoms. To the entire continent’s magical ecosystem.”
“We have plenty of work to do.” I drained the rest of my whiskey. “Our priority now is clear. We need to figure out how to fix the ley lines. Everything else—Auremar, the invasion, even Sebastian’s mysterious baking magic—comes second.
“Griffin, tomorrow I want a full update on your Heirloom research. Everything you’ve compiled so far. We’ll use that as our starting point.” I set down my glass with finality. “Then you can start looking into purification rituals.”
“I’ll keep the army ready,” Thorne said. “When you want to move, we’ll be prepared.”
They all looked at me expectantly, waiting for dismissal or further orders. My advisors. The people I trusted most in the world.
“Tomorrow,” I said. “Tonight, we rest. We’ve all earned it.”
They filed out one by one, Griffin still muttering about magical theory, Thorne heading to check on the night watch, Vex disappearing into whatever shadow she emerged from.
As everyone filed out, Arabella lingered, sliding her arms around my waist from behind. “What are you thinking?”
The ley lines. Auremar. A hero who baked magical scones and made my people like him. “No one is that genuinely nice.”
She huffed a laugh. “Not everyone has to be a villain.”
“Those people are boring,” I said, turning in her arms. “And they don’t get to have you.”
“No,” she agreed, going up on her toes to kiss me. “They don’t. Did you actually eat anything at dinner, or were you too busy glaring at Sebastian?”
“I didn’t get dessert.”
The look in Arabella’s eyes shifted from teasing to wanting. I pushed her backward until the heavy oak table pressed into her thighs and trapped her there, my body pressed to hers. Mine.
Just as her breath hitched, the doors creaked open. A servant entered, tray in hand, to clear the remnants of our meal.
“Out,” I snapped, not bothering to look at him.
With a flick of my wrist, shadows slammed the doors shut, the bolt sliding home with a heavy thud.
“That was rude,” Arabella said, but her hands were already sliding up my chest.
“I’m the Dark Lord. I’m allowed to be rude when someone interrupts my dessert.”