Chapter 3
“Finally,” Athira snapped as I strode into the library.
I could rely on my mother-in-law in some ways. For instance, I knew she would have ensured the area was clear. She was also masking her presence in case Carmine took a casual power glance in my direction.
“I was busy,” I answered, taking a seat on the armchair opposite her floating head.
I drew forth my powers to create a token silence barrier, then blinked when a circle of ghosts appeared in a circle around us, standing shoulder to shoulder. “Uh… Hi?”
Athira drew her daggers and whirled in a crouched position, ready to attack.
Two of the ghosts smiled at me and waved. The others seemed cheerful enough too.
I asked, “Are you here to keep this conversation from other ears?”
The most enthusiastic of them nodded, beaming.
Huh. Was the smoke ritual to thank for this? I lifted a shoulder. “Well, great. Thank you all. I appreciate your help.”
What else was there to say?
I glanced at Athira. “Those daggers will work really well against a ghost.”
She glared and sheathed her daggers. “What were you busy doing? Beating up your yellow pet?”
I shuddered at the memory of making Tsan crawl out of the dining hall this morning. “Pretty much.”
Cool calculation replaced her anger. “You’re no longer as you were. Why are you keeping up a front? For my son’s benefit, assumedly.”
And we’d arrived at the reason for this meeting. I’d changed my mind about killing Carmine. I might still kill him while trying to kill Tyran, but I’d try my best to save my mate.
Athira wanted to save Adeuto—for herself, but also because she believed Carmine would wish that too. She was right. But now that I could potentially save both Carmine and Adeuto, I felt confident about bringing Athira fully into the loop.
“I’ve decided to fill you in,” I told her.
“Spare me your humanisms.”
Why did I put up with her again? I blew out a breath. “I’m going to tell you everything.”
Mostly.
Before she could say something else to deter me, I continued, “There’s a way to save Carmine.”
I’d leave out the maybe.
Athira’s gaze snapped to mine. “What do you mean?”
“What do you know of the extinction of white demons?”
She shrugged a shoulder. “They were once here, and then they weren’t. Good riddance. Survive or bury yourself.”
I withheld a groan. “Wrong question. Silly me. What do you know of the force within kings that makes them kill their sons and anyone who may challenge the throne?”
Athira stilled and searched my expression.
“I know that… something overcomes kings. That who they are before kingdom is not always who they are after. I know that their kingly power is undeniable, and learning that took me a long time. What I might have denied in my mate, I could not deny when I witnessed the sudden shift in my son.”
I blinked. “When did you notice the shift in your son? While he was in the dungeon?”
“No. There he was himself,” she said. “When he was crowned king.”
I’d held the iron crown. I’d felt the white magic within it.
I pursed my lips. “I’d thought he figured out how to use the power while in the dungeons.”
“Kingly power?” she asked.
That was how she’d classified the monster. I dipped my head, and Athira shook hers.
“No,” she supplied. “To this day, Carmine is most himself when in the dungeon.”
I frowned. “Really? I thought he was terrified of it. Traumatized.”
“Trauma.” She scoffed. “Your human concepts revolt me.”
“I’m aware,” I said dryly.
She ignored me. “Carmine is not afraid of the dungeons. He likes it down there.”
What? I’d always assumed the opposite. I’d seen how his breath quickened at the mention. How he shut down the conversation. How his eyes widened.
“Why doesn’t he go down there more?” I pondered aloud. My gut twinged. There was something in this.
He’s most himself down there.
If that was true, then that explained why Carmine never followed me, Owu, and Axel to Earth after I portaled him there.
I’d spent most of the last two days trying to get my to-do list in order, and now I bumped an item to the top of the list: Figure out who Hge is. Carmine had mentioned his dungeon mate a few weeks back.
There was something crucial to understand about the dungeon.
Crucial. Everything felt crucial.
I looked up. “The force that you’ve termed kingly power is actually a curse.
A wrath curse, specifically. The wrath curse was created thousands of years ago by the sacrifice of forty white-scaled demons, who believed that the perfect leader needed to be a crimson under the control of the cunning of weaker demons—whites, of course.
The wrath curse has controlled the leaders of this realm since the first king, Uryrth, who you will know is an ancestor of Carmine’s family line, and that of your mate. ”
Athira had stopped breathing to listen.
I added, “The remaining forty white-scaled demons back then disagreed with Tyran’s agenda.”
“Tyran?” Athira blurted.
Tyran. The name inspired cold hatred in me. “He was the leader before Utyrth. He has ruled kings this whole time. He is the face of the wrath curse within them.”
I’d never seen Athira stumped. Like me, she must be reliving all the moments in her far longer life that had never made sense.
The seemingly random, ruthless acts of her mate.
The monster that would overcome them in a flash.
The glimpses of who they’d been. The difference between us was that all those things had become normal to Athira over hundreds of years.
She’d been struck speechless. It looked good on her.
I said, “There were another forty white-scaled demons who disagreed with Tyran’s agenda.
They sacrificed themselves to create the antidote to the magic controlling kings.
They have existed all this time in the form of white-scaled creatures in the desert.
Nismus, qer, and butyker. In the last two rituals, when Tyran’s power has taken over me, Neti has healed his power out of me.
That is what I seek to do with Carmine. Though I foresee some complications with the extent to which he is controlled. ”
Athira stared at me.
This was the part where she thanked me for doing what she’d never figured out.
This was the part where she told me how wrong she’d been about me at sixteen.
“The yellow figured this out for you,” she said at last.
I narrowed my gaze. “Is it so hard to believe that I did it myself?”
For the most part.
“Yes. You will never convince me that this isn’t a random stroke of brilliance in your otherwise pathetic existence.”
Fell into that one.
“At least one of us had a random stroke of brilliance,” I replied.
Athira swallowed. “This information seems far-fetched, but it clarifies many unexplained moments in my life. I must also be pathetic to believe any of it is true. But my husband hated the mention of Tyran; then sometimes he spoke of him in a voice of awe too. When Carmine was crowned, he destroyed all signs of Tyran in the fortress, barring the painting in one of his lounges.” She glanced up.
“The painting where a demon looks into the mirror and sees a monster. That’s the curse. ”
“That’s the curse,” I echoed.
“What are the complications for healing my son?” My mother-in-law straightened, and I quickly checked Carmine’s whereabouts. War council. Just for a change.
I answered, “The volume of white magic in him. The healing I went through was intense. Painful. I can’t be sure healing him now wouldn’t kill him.”
“What will change that?”
“I’m unsure yet. Our mating is important somehow. Tyran’s wrath curse is finite in power. In the last two rituals, I’ve siphoned some of that power into myself and then healed it away. It might be that if I siphon more power in the last two rituals, Carmine could be healed and survive.”
There’s more to it. The mating meant something more that I hadn’t uncovered yet. “There may be other ways to ensure he survives. That’s what I need to figure out. What we need to figure out.”
There were our dreams, for example, where Carmine wasn’t under Tyran’s control. Could I heal him in a dream?
Yet another item to add to my to-do list because I knew in my gut—even without my magus power to warn me—that Carmine would only survive if I could reveal the entire picture. Even then, he may not live.
Athira was silent for a time. “I need time to understand all you have said, but what is your plan?”
Everyone wanted a plan. Well, two people. I didn’t have a plan. I had a to-do list that may uncover paths to follow that hopefully led to a solution.
In other words, I was going to throw daggers into the dark and hope to hit my target. What could possibly go wrong?
“The healing won’t work without a blue gem.”
“Like the one you held during the recent healing?” she asked.
I nodded. “Adeuto said that qer have been delivering these gems to him. I don’t know where he’s hidden them. We need as many as we can find. If we can’t find Adeuto’s stash, then we need to find qer.”
“And kill them?”
I let her demon logic flow over me. “No, Athira. The white-scaled creatures are the magic that will heal the wrath curse. We don’t want to kill them. We need their help. You know what… leave the contact with qer to me. But you could help Tsan search for Adeuto’s stash. He can’t portal.”
“Carmine has asked me to join his new war council. I will arrange time with Tsan to search for these gems around that. What else?”
Very little for now. Most of it, Athira couldn’t help with anyway. “There is one thing. I need to communicate with my sister. I left them all in the midst of battle.”
“A battle you ended by raising an army of the dead,” Athira interrupted. “Which my son is very interested in using for the benefit and gain of this realm.”
Raising the dead? I supposed that was true. I’d viewed it more as inviting ancestors and ghosts to have a good time.
“Thanks for the heads-up,” I said. “But we’re going to need the help of all of them if we want to save Carmine.
I plan to figure out whatever is needed for him to have the best chance to survive the healing, but there’s still the matter of containing him to be healed.
I’ll need the other supernaturals to help with that. You too.”
“I’ll do my part if there’s a chance to save my son,” Athira whispered. “Or if there is a chance to free him of this curse.”
My sentiments exactly. I wrinkled my nose at the thought. In five years, I’d never expected to agree on this level with Athira.
I caught sight of her disgusted expression and laughed. “This is proof that the impossible can happen.”
Her lips twitched. Or perhaps she’d grimaced.
“In the meantime, it’s important that Tyran believes I’m still riddled with his power and under his control. That’s why I need to act like I was before the healing. Tsan has put up his hand to be a punching bag, and I’ll need to treat you like shit, too, okay? Nothing personal.”
I left the archives without waiting for her answer and grinned all the way down the hall.
Hurting Tsan didn’t feel right, but I had a feeling that humiliating Athira wouldn’t feel all wrong.