Chapter Seventeen
Legend
Valeryth rises ahead of us in pale marble veined with silver so pure it seems to gleam. Bells ring somewhere high in the towers when we pass through wired gates.
It’s so…pretty.
I hate it instantly.
Even the skies are wrong: blue without depth, the sunlight pouring down over the grounds like it’s all fucking rainbows and flowers. I prefer the sight of the rings of Saturn burning overhead. The angry stars flickering before they die.
Darkness.
This place has none. Or at least not on the surface.
No, the evil that lives here—and evil lives everywhere—is slicker than that. They hide behind sweet smiles and porcelain faces, and wear fucking flower crowns on top of their heads as if they have a royal bone in their lithe little bodies.
They don’t.
My muscles twitch and I glance at Arabella.
Guess that is about to change, though. A Royal, born of the purest of Stygian blood, fated to an Argent.
That’s never happened before. If someone would have asked me before if it would ever be possible, I’d have laughed in their fucking face.
Yet here we are.
If I didn’t feel it, I wouldn’t believe it.
Arabella walks beside me in white silk, fingers looped lightly through the bend of my arm.
If she didn’t just find me leaving Haide, I might wonder if she was being arrogant with the way she clings to me, chin held high and nose tipped in superiority all because she bagged herself a king.
That should make me proud, make my chest puff out and cock ache to be buried inside her.
But this is more than that. She hasn’t stopped touching me since I dropped out of that fucking tree.
“We will be brief,” she murmurs, her voice taking on a soft, fawning sort of tone as her fingers glide across my skin. “I promise.”
A ripple rolls through me when she speaks, in a way her touch did not.
The second Arabella falls silent again, the pressure returns, subtle but undeniable.
Fuck is this? Guilt?
She found out her parents were dead. And what did I do? I fucking left her in my castle to go find the girl who screwed me over.
The least I can do now is be here for her while she faces whatever shit she needs to deal with.
I don’t even know if she liked her parents or not. Most gifted don’t. But then again, she is Argent, so who the fuck knows?
Either way, a good mate wouldn’t be dissecting her when she just lost her family members. A good mate would do better on instinct.
So why does this feel like a fucking chore?
I don’t give a shit about her parents. I don’t want to be here.
“Sister.” Her twin gives a subtle nod in greeting before turning to me. “King Deveraux, thank you for coming so quickly.”
I’m tempted to ask why he bothered to come see us at all if he was just going to turn right around and have us follow. Why not just send word, asking her to come?
“We preserved the bodies for investigation. Chief officer should be here any time.”
My eyes narrow. “Why do you need an investigator?”
The brother, Aron I now know, fixes me with a self-righteous stare, his posture so pristine he looks like a fucking robot. “Do you not investigate murders of your people?”
“All gifted are my people, Argent, or do you guys sit here in your fake little bubble and pretend otherwise?”
“Legend.” Arabella squeezes my arm.
Fuck. There I go, making shit worse again.
But fuck this guy.
I look back to the brother, mind linking my own.
“They say Arabella’s parents were murdered.”
I close the link, knowing they’ll hound me with questions. And there’s no way I’m asking this wannabe prince anything.
London loved the shit out of me when she met me. I should probably like my mate’s sibling, too. But I hate this fuck already.
“The bodies?” I press.
“Of course, King Deveraux.” He dips his chin and turns to lead us to Arabella’s home before she was forced to Rathe U.
Rathe U… When we took reign, we issued a royal decree demanding all of age attend the university.
If he’s her twin, where was he and what makes him think he can disobey his Kings?
The hair on my neck stands. I draw on my power, sharpening my senses as much as I can manage, my magic still playing fucking games with me despite starting the bonding process.
Bonding process…
Ask me what I learned.
Haide’s words whisper through my skull, the taste of her blood still a vicious tang on my tongue. The transfer of blood from one mate to the other.
Part of the fucking bonding process.
Tension coils inside me and I clench my teeth, having no clue what this means.
Arabella presses closer to me, leaning her head on my shoulder in a needy ass way that makes my skin crawl. I hate needy.
You don’t hate when Haide is needy for you.
Fuck.
Different. Arabella is different, I just have to remember that. Growth, right? That’s the point here.
We’re led through a small home and up a spiraling staircase that leads to a single floor.
Large doors open to water running down glass walls in thin sheets, pooling into wide channels carved along the room’s edges, but otherwise empty space.
Well… almost empty, except for the visible outline of bodies hidden beneath a magical cloak.
White marble stretches beneath our feet, so polished it reflects the natural mist drifting through the room like we’re standing on a cloud. No windows or balconies, just air and water.
“Sir Marlok has arrived,” Aron declares, motioning to a familiar old man I’d seen around my father’s hunting parties.
Sir Marlok gives a brief greeting before jumping into the topic at hand. He gestures toward the floor, just as Knight and London walk in.
Arabella stiffens, moving closer until her arm is pressed at my side. “Did you call for them, mate?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Knight answers for me. He watches the old Fae closely, coming to stand on my opposite side. “Go on.”
Marlok waves his hands and the cloak disappears to reveal the bodies.
Unclothed. Hollowed up, like the life was sucked out of them – cheeks sunken into pits and eyes set in deep cavities. They’re nothing but skin and bone.
“There is no sign of struggle. No defensive magic triggered or markings to show they fought back.”
“And no forced entry,” I add. “All the locks are intact. Windows, too.”
The Fae nods. “If I had to guess, they were in a dream state when they were drained.”
“Drained?” London bends, cocking her head as she takes a closer look.
“If I didn’t know they were Argent Ordinaries,” Marlock frowns, looking from Arabella to her brother. “I would think they were human.”
“Why?”
“Not a drop of magic left in them. They were completely siphoned so there was no chance of healing, but not only that.” The old man bends, pushing the pointer of his walking stick into the man’s mouth and forcing his jaw open.
“The fuck?” It’s weird enough to shock Knight. That’s saying something.
I shuffle forward a little more to get a closer look. “They removed their tongues? Why?”
He shakes his head. “That’s all part of the mystery. They were kind. Lady Alo devoted her time in the outer wards to our less fortunate Argents, the troublesome ones in reform.”
Knight scoffs at his comment. Not a single person can help a troubled Argent. Where we Stygians own our fuck-ups, Argents like to try to hide theirs. Pretend it doesn’t exist until their fuck-up is burning shit to the ground because they didn’t get what they wanted.
And of course, I’m bonded to one.
“What exactly did she do out there?” London asks, moving back to Knight’s side.
“She held choir classes a few days a week.”
“So, a woman who likes to sing gets her tongue cut out and her magic stolen.”
Marlock holds my gaze.
“You don’t look so sad to see mommy mummified,” Knight observes, his stare pinned on Arabella with sharp interest. “Not surprised she’s dead?”
Fuck, I didn’t even think to pull her close and comfort her through the bond. I should have—
Wait.
No trace of tears. Knees strong beneath her.
Spine straight and face as perfectly angelic as ever.
The very air around her is serene. And—I strain my ears—a soft hum vibrates in her throat.
I focus on the bond to determine her feelings.
But as I pull on that tether between us, following it to her end of the mating bond, the thread thins until it’s like reaching into a void.
My brows snap together.
Is she blocking me out?
“She’s not blocking you out because you were never inside her, you big fucking idiot.”
My muscles go rigid, a rock forming in my throat. Heat punches through my chest like molten stone. It’s sharp, sudden, and spreads by the second. Strength floods my limbs, violent and grounding at the same time, like something ancient stepped forward. For a second it feels like—
No. No, I’m going fucking mad because the air in this stupid fucking place is too pure or something. There is no way her voice is in my head.
I blink hard, putting my focus back where it belongs. On my mate at my side.
Bile threatens to rise up my throat but I force it down.
Shit, I’m losing it.
Arabella inhales, ignoring my brother’s question as she turns to me.
I should force her to answer him. He’s her king, too. She should know better.
“In Valeryth,” she continues, and her voice smooths, threading through my thoughts like silk, “the mating process is sacred. Bonds are finalized publicly with witnesses. It symbolizes an anchoring to one another before the line of those who came before us, and…blesses our grounds.”
London scoffs.
“Our realm is in peril, my mate,” she murmurs, pressing her palm to my chest, and the bond begins to pulse. “We should give them something to celebrate. Let’s complete the bonds in front of our kingdom.”
My kingdom, not yours.
The thought is instant and the betrayal burns me.
Fuck is wrong with me?
“Getting a little brave there, aren’t you Arabella?” Knight nearly growls.
Before I can acknowledge him, she grips my face quickly, keeping my attention on her. “My mate.”
“Legend, get away from her,” London snaps.
For half a breath, Arabella’s eyes darken but then she smiles.