31. Keira
Chapter 31
Keira
A ldrin’s breaths are long and even, deep in sleep beside me. His entire golden chest is exposed to the waist, with a light sheet draped over his hips. I examine the way the moonlight plays across the sharp angles of his face and trace the peaked tips of his ears with a finger.
He looks so peaceful in sleep.
So incredibly vulnerable.
Gone are the brooding frowns that often pinch his brows and the quick flash of expressions.
I finger the beads of my moonstone bracelet. They hardly glow even in this dim light.
Aldrin had tried so hard during our dinner to tell me how he feels, but I couldn’t hear it and he is still so guarded. We were destined to fail from the start. I feel like the last grains of sand are slipping through my fingers and I have run out of time.
I made love to him tonight like it would be the last time I touched him, and it probably will be. A blade twists and twists again in my chest as I grieve him while he is right here, in my arms. As Aldrin drifted of to sleep, my mind stayed completely alert to savor every last moment .
It all comes down to a choice between the fae realm or my realm. Between what is best for me and what is best for my people, and I have never, ever put myself first. I attribute no value to my own happiness, when being selfish could result in the ruination of my kingdom. It is as simple as that.
Half the night disappears as my mind runs around in circles, looking for some loophole or way out.
I finally get up and make my way to the bathroom. I splash cold water onto my face and stare at myself in the mirror for a long time. Until I decide to make the most of right now. That is all we have.
I want to wake Aldrin and feel his powerful arms wrap around me and pull me into his chest. Kiss and touch and lick his body to see how quickly he hardens for me.
I open the bathroom door and freeze in shock.
A man in a deep indigo robe stands over Aldrin’s sleeping form, grasping the hilt of a longsword in two hands, preparing to drive it through Aldrin’s chest. The blade shimmers and glitters with dim white light, imbued with magic. Shadows curl out from the tall figure, moving as though they are a part of his robe.
Time slows down a crawl and every second lasts an hour.
Fear roars to life within me, squeezing my heart in an iron grip. It is swiftly followed by rage, detonating all magic I hold. It feels like my chest will explode. I scream Aldrin’s name and the sound echoes off the walls like the call of a banshee.
The trunks of all the potted trees in the room shatter, and those shards elongate into a hundred crude arrows, flying as one at the assassin. I wield air to drive the projectiles to my target and give them deadly force to bury into the body of that robed figure.
An airshield immediately snaps in place around the assassin, but it is not enough. The assassin’s blade whips away from Aldrin in a movement so fast and fluid it registers as a blur to my eyes, and cuts down the missiles that penetrated his defenses. Then he turns his gaze toward me, barely visible from beneath his hood.
My blood freezes.
His face is hidden behind a black mask, but those slitted, ice-blue eyes glow with radiance. They are lined with thick bands of charcoal and his lips are jet-black.
The assassin immediately leaps into the air, base jumping in the way Aldrin tried to teach me. He moves at dizzying speed, dragging his sword upwards in a long arch to bring it down on my head in a mighty swipe. I only have a heartbeat to react. I run and slide across the stone floor, gliding under the assassin.
His blade slices clean through the doorway where I had been standing. I take control of all that wooden framing, realizing it is somehow alive, and rupture a volley of sharp missiles right in his face. A shaft pierces his thigh and cuts pepper his face, but it is nowhere near enough to stop a fae.
He turns, his hood thrown back and scowling when he realizes I am not some helpless human. Then he flicks his wrist and I am lifted off the ground and smashed into the wall, like a ragdoll caught in a gust of wind.
My head cracks. Jarring pain flashes through me. I try to scramble up, but I cannot control my limbs. Air wheezes in and out of me, and I just can’t get enough. I get tangled in the curtains, but finally turn back to the assassin.
Aldrin’s incoherent roar fills my ears.
My heart leaps as he rises from the bed, looking like a god of death. Thick horns erupt in a crown on top of his head. Black stripes of war paint decorate his face. His biceps ripple as he throws out his arms, then curls his hands and forearms back in.
The plaster walls explode around the assassin. The trees that are clearly the living bones of the palace erupt out of them and reach for the man. He leaps out of their whipping grasp and flies across the room. His two-handed sword slices clean through wood.
It is a game of cat and mouse.
I scramble out of the curtains, but there is nowhere to go. I would only be in Aldrin’s way. Branches explode out of the roof, following the trajectory of the assassin as he charges Aldrin. They stab and miss him by an inch.
The assassin leaps over Aldrin and smashes a downward blow of that white, shimmering blade on him. Aldrin catches it on an airshield held before his upraised arm. Sparks of starlight fly from the sword, illuminating the curve of Aldrin’s shield. The assassin’s entire body is poised in midair above him, as he uses his weight behind the blow.
The move is a mistake. Remaining still for even a moment seals the assassin’s fate.
Aldrin grins into the man’s face with a flash of teeth, an expression that is both terrifying and feral.
A dozen waiting branches whip out from the walls and ceiling, tearing into the assassin and coiling around him. The man wields his sword to slice away at the branches, and I shatter one into splinters and send them right through that wrist.
With a sharp blast of air, I thrust the blade from his hand.
It clatters to the floor.
Aldrin wraps the assassin up in a coiled, woody cocoon, looping again and again until he has no hope of breaking free. He hangs in the center of the room, blood dripping onto the ground in a rhythmic splatter from his wounds.
I stare with horror at what we have done.
Aldrin rushes for me, his hands gripping my shoulders as his eyes skate over me. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m okay.” I chew out. I don’t tell him how my head spins and my legs are unsteady.
Aldrin turns to the assassin, keeping his distance. Fury ripples through every line of his tall, broad form. “Who hired you to kill me in my home? In my sleep?”
The assassin’s face contorts into a sneer, his hands and feet twitching where they are free from the woody bindings. I take a step closer to Aldrin as fear flashes within me that he is readying for an attack with magic. Tendrils of shadows seem to whip and thrash around him, but they have no physical form.
It isn’t until the skin on his face mottles with blue and froth escapes from his lips, that I realize the assassin is dying. A few more moments, and he hangs limp in his bindings.
“Fuck.” Aldrin spits, backing away from the body. “A suicide curse. ”
My whole body shakes uncontrollably and I let out a whimper. It is all I can do to stop myself from vomiting. I double over and grab hold of the side of the bed. I am not used to witnessing such violence, engaging in it, let alone watching a horrible, agonizing death. I have hunted animals, but I have never seen a person die before.
Aldrin is on me in a heartbeat, his arms wrapping around me and pulling me into his lap on the bed.
He looks over me frantically. “Are you hurt? Poisoned? Did the blade touch you?” His hands tremble as they hold onto me.
“No,” I utter, unable to look away from that dead body. “I thought he was going to kill you, Aldrin. I walked into the room and he had a sword held just above your heart.” Hot tears run down my face.
Aldrin shakes his head. Those curling horns are still out and black marks slash across his cheekbones and forehead. Rage is in full force within his burning eyes and his lips are pressed into a thin line. This is how he looked when I first met him, more feral animal than fae man. It absolutely terrified me before.
Now, I find safety with the monster within him.
This man would rip apart the world to protect me.
“He would have killed you, for being a mere inconvenience, like swatting a fly. For getting in his way and trying to stop him. I would have ripped him to pieces if he drew even a drop of your blood. I would have found who hired him and?—”
“But he didn’t,” I say. “And I was more than an inconvenience. I held my own until you woke up.”
My fingers stroke the war pattern across his face, disappearing beneath my touch, as though I wiped it away. I caress those horns, tracing their path, like small, thin antlers. They feel so real, so solid, until they dissipate to ash and blow away. His fingers are completely black, ending in long claws.
Only the strongest of fae reveal their roots to their gods in a physical form.
Aldrin looks away from me. “I was foolish in thinking Titania would not stoop this low. She is insane to hire an Assassin of Belladonna to kill me.” Aldrin scoops me up into his arms and places me on the bed.
“An Assassin of Belladonna?” I ask as he pulls our prepacked bags out of a trunk.
“There are places in this world that don’t belong to any of the courts. They live by their own laws. The temple of Belladonna is said to be on a mountaintop between courts, but no one knows where. They breed and train the realm’s most deadly assassins.”
I glance to the dead, twisted body hanging from the ceiling and an icy shiver runs down my spine.
He had been someone’s son. Maybe a brother or a friend, too.
What makes someone give all that up, to lose everything they once were, to become an assassin? To die for such a cause, instead of risking being made to talk?
A deep sadness fills me at the loss of such a soul, not in their death, but in a life lived like that.
“Do they work for commissions only?” I ask. “Or do they have their own political motivations?”
“It’s not really known,” Aldrin replies over his shoulder, tossing travel clothes at me. “Get ready to flee. We can’t remain in the city. There will be more coming.”
“But you defeated him easily.” My hands tremble, but I do exactly as he says.
Aldrin pauses and turns to me, spreading out his arms. “Very few could take down a Belladonna Assassin, but I am the king of spring, standing within the seat of my power. That is why he came in here on silent feet and tried to kill me in my sleep.” He takes my hands and looks into my eyes, pure worship shining within them. “It would have worked, if you hadn’t saved my life. Thank you.”
I swallow. “You saved mine too.”
Aldrin shakes his head. “You wouldn’t have been at risk if it hadn’t been for me.”
This is what I will abandon him to. Plots and assassins in the night.
Aldrin shoulders his pack and tosses mine at me, then leads me out of the room .
I try and fail to ignore that dead assassin still hanging by branches within his rooms. “Are we going to leave the body there?”
“Yes. It's evidence of an assassination attempt and I am going to make sure the entire court hears about it.” Aldrin grunts. “We have to gather the rest of our band. They could have set assassins on them too, but it's unlikely that?—”
“Caitlin!” I yelp, spinning to him. “Would they have gone after Caitlin?”
Aldrin pushes me gently through the entrance hall. “No. She would not be on their list, but she is coming with us in case.”
A banging resounds loudly at the main entrance of Aldrin’s apartment. It starts as frantic knocking and rattling of the handles, then the entire door frame shakes as a man throws his shoulder against it. Aldrin pulls me behind him with a swift moment and a gust of wind rapidly whips around us as he readies his magic.
“Aldrin!” Silvan cries out. “By the gods open the door!”
My chest is pressed against Aldrin’s back, and I feel the tension release from him. The breeze around up drops, and the air before the doors shimmers as Aldrin removes his ward. Silvan barrels in, with Drake at his side. Both men stare at us, then their gaze passes over our shoulders to the bedroom and the dead assassin within.
“Fuuuuck,” Silvan breathes, stress tightening his shoulders.
The color drains from Drake’s face. “I’ve never heard of someone fighting a Belladonna Assassin and living.”
“Well, I’ve never taken one on before,” Aldrin snaps.
“Why did you come racing here, Silvan? What news did you hear?” I ask gently.
Silvan jolts. “There are Belladonna Assassins in the city, though I guess you already know that. We were playing cards with the palace guards in the barracks and the call came in that Cyprien’s estate has been set on fire.
“One of his own guards brought us the news. He pulled me aside to tell you to get out of the city. That they slaughtered your corrupted spriggan and would have killed Cyprien if he were home. They maimed a few of his guards to find out where he was.” His gaze passes to the corpse again. “They will come for you again when they find out this one failed.”
Drake practically bounces on his toes with need to get moving. “Cyprien left a message for us to meet him outside of the God’s Gate.”
“We leave now,” Aldrin barks, leading me by the elbow. “Wake up our people and grab the emergency bags you already have packed. Leave everything else so it takes them time to realize we are gone. We knew this was a possibility.”
I stare at him. I didn’t know this was a possibility.
It takes time to gather our people. Caitlin pulls a knife to my throat as I shake her awake. Her movements are fast and sharp with years of training, and the anger that pinches her features turns to wide-eyed horror as she realizes it is me hovering over her. She dresses quickly as I grab her bag. The rest of Aldrin’s guard meet us in the corridor.
The city is a different place in the early hours of the morning.
The shadows are long and nothing lights our path except the twin moons and the lady of the night blooms, which have their white petals fully open and spheres of light at their core. In the darkness, it appears they colonize every surface of the buildings, breaking some of the inky darkness.
I see phantoms in every corner. Assassins that don’t exist base jumping across the blackness in the corner of my eye. It doesn’t help when Aldrin tells me they specialize in magics of shadows and light.
Fears rolls hard through me, making my whole body shiver. I clutch onto Caitlin’s fingers like it would stop me from losing her and Aldrin pushes my lower back from behind.
Our party of twelve makes our slow descent through the streets from the palace at the city’s apex. Both Silvan and Zinnia sprint to corners under the cover of their invisibility wards, then signal us to follow when it safe.
Acrid smoke curls within my nostrils. Up here the view is clear over the roofs of shops and between apartments, to Cyprien’s walled estate on a not-too-distant rise of clustered buildings.
We pause within the shadows and gape at the travesty .
Plumes of dark ash are almost hidden against the indigo of the night sky, but the heavens around the inferno glow with yellow light. Within it, tongues of orange flames still flicker and dance and rage. They are subdued, but the intensity of blaze hints that the fire spread before it could be extinguished. The buildings themself are black silhouettes on that backdrop.
I hold out a hand and tiny flecks of white ash land upon it like a dusting of snow. The bitter taste of it sits on my tongue.
The calls of firefighters ring out, carried this far in the otherwise still night. Their intensity is suddenly amplified and descends into shouts and screams, as a small building collapses in on itself, followed by a loud clap and rumble.
“I cannot believe even Titania would be this ruthless.” Aldrin’s voice trembles with rage. “That she would threaten this whole city burning to the ground, to silence Cyprien and myself. I greatly underestimated her.”
“Desperate people can do unimaginable horrors, especially a tyrant who has their power threatened,” Caitlin says from my side. “We cannot stay here.”
“She knows you care about all your people and she sees it as a weakness to exploit.” Silvan half growls.
We throw ourselves into our mad flight through the city, dashing down staircases, cutting across platforms and over bridges that take us from one tall clutter of skyscraping building to the next. We transverse the city both horizontally and vertically, until we reach a region of low-lying superstructures that appear to be a series of temples.
The stacked, triangular roofs are constructed purely from polished moonstone, gleaming under the light of the moon and illuminating the streets. The stone walls are almost completely covered in thick brambles.
The pathway downwards passes under great arches of white marble, with vines and closed blooms entwined around them. Large bells hang from each arch, with their chain hanging so low I could easily reach up and grab it .
Soft chanting drift across the air, rising in volume and fever, then dropping to almost a whisper, but never ceasing.
A chill runs down my spine. “What is this place?” I ask Aldrin.
“The Temple Sanctum. Anyone may come here looking for peace and will receive protection. Hopefully, we can pass through to the God’s Gate unmolested.”
My heart hammers painfully. Apprehension builds to an almost unbearable point, as we creep down the staircases that circles around and around the main temple, and into thick shadows below.
The inky blackness of the few recesses seem to have a life of their own. Moving tendrils expand and sway, until they engulf entire regions of the platforms, between buildings and beneath overhanging roofs. My eyes dart between them. I don’t make sense.
I suck in a sharp breath of air as a figure leaps through the void between buildings. Their feet bounce off hardened pockets of air and their dark robes fly out behind them. He is almost impossible to see.
“Assassin!” My hoarse voice is just above a whisper, but a ripple of alertness runs through the soldiers around me.
A silver line flashes through the air, moving so fast I can hardly track it. The blade lodges within the air right before my eyes, making a thwacking sound as though it hit wood. An airshield, thrown up by Aldrin. The throwing knife glitters as brightly as the one that was held over Aldrin’s chest.
“Shields up and run for the temple’s entrance!” Aldrin roars as the knife falls to the ground. He grabs me around the waist and forces me to move. “I want you as far away from me as possible. You are not their target.” He growls into my ear, and tosses me toward Drake’s open arms.
Throwing blades fly toward us, peppering our shields. Each impact sends a violent jarring through my body. Even the fae grunt as their defenses are struck. Some knives shimmer like starlight and others crackle in bursts like lightning.It looks so much like my grandmother’s magic that I share a panicked look with Caitlin. We could never guess which fae court her powers came from.
My head spins as we flee down spiraling staircases. Each time we run under one of those arches, Silvan leaps up at the front of our pack and rings the massive bell at its center. My head feels like it will shatter from the vibrations of their tolling.
By the time we arrive at the mouth of the temple, multiple bells sing out of sequence. The chanting voices cut off with an abruptness. Aldrin calls a halt on the huge balcony that wraps around the temple. Thousands of interwoven branches create the platform that could hold a hundred people and the surrounding railing. There must be a dozen ancient trees feeding branches into the structure.
The great doors of the temple slowly open, light spilling out from them.
Every fiber of my being screams at me to run. We are too exposed here, but I trust Aldrin’s instincts.
I turn toward the temple’s entrance, huddled by Caitlin’s side. She grips my arm so tightly it hurts, like she is afraid that if she lets go, she will lose me again. Surely Aldrin intends for us to seek refuge within the temple. My legs almost give out when near fifty robed figures glide out of those doors and surround us completely.