CHAPTER TWELVE
Verena
MY VISION OBSCURED, THEN BLACKENED, until a hand tightened around my arm, dragging me back.
Callum.
The world returned with a dizzying throb behind my eyes as the tavern snapped back into focus, the fog of Nezra’s trance lifting slowly.
“He said let her go,” Reve’s voice cut through, cracking like a sober warning.
My temples pounded, the pulse itself feeling different, rabid. I’d drifted too far, too deep into history. Into a memory that felt stolen, a truth never meant to be shared.
But it had all been real.
The divinity stones. The Gods, the Valkaras, even Saintoria.
That was what myth had called it once. A secret realm hidden in the sky until its collapse, dropped from the clouds like its very wings had been cut.
That was all history had lent us about them.
There’s been whispers, stories of a meeting between Gods and Angels. But no records. No proof. Certainly, no mention of the divinity stone.
Of coronation stones and borrowed power, yes. But not their origin. Not that they had been formed into one, a stone born from balance, for redemption.
My mind raced through every lesson, every lecture about the stones being gifted to each kingdom—had they even been real?
Nezra bowed, her voice as alluring as the rest of her. “My apologies, miss.”
The raven on her shoulder blinked, though only one eye, black as its feathers, seemed to understand the motion.
Reve stepped in again, perhaps before the damned bird could lure me back under. “Whatever you showed her, she’s not paying for it.”
Had it all just been a trick? A dream?
“On the house,” Nezra promised with a wink.
She turned, hips swaying as she made for the bar. I understood the appeal now; she certainly had my attention.
I sank back onto the bench. “How long was I gone?”
“Only a minute or so,” Callum said carefully. His eyes studied me. “What did she show you?”
The answer lodged in my throat and I didn’t know why. I’d always told him everything. Every secret, every sin.
But this? This felt stitched into my core, meant for me alone.
I shook my head, temples still throbbing as though her magic clung there, refusing to let go. “I can’t remember.”
Callum’s eyes lingered a heartbeat too long, the corner of his jaw ticking.
My pulse sped up. He didn’t believe me, not for a second, and he didn’t have to say it.
Nezra was already at the bar when my focus caught her again, her hand outstretched.
The barkeep rolled his eyes, digging into his trousers, dropping a small brown sack into her palm.
She gave it a lazy swirl, judging its weight by sound alone, before nodding to the raven.
A breath left the bird, and the bag vanished.
Fates, I needed to learn that trick.
She clapped her hands together, voice rising above the gossip and sweat. “Alright, my darlings. Are your ears ready for enchantment,” she paused, smile curling, “or chaos?”
The crowd roared, the next hour unraveling like a fever dream.
Her voice spun air into sea-woven silk, rebuilding it until song fell into sorrow. She began with lullabies, familiar notes from my childhood.
But from her mouth, they warped, haunting, laced with something other.
Then her voice changed.
The melody turned forceful, the tempo colder as a new beat ripped through the room. Gone were the songs of fate and love. In their place came disaster. Witches. Bloodlines hunted. Kingdoms bled to ash.
I shifted in my seat, straightening as the song drifted its notes directly to me, my heart plummeting when they reached.
She sang of a curse. Not just a misfortune, or a crossed lover, but one meant to stain, to poison, while wearing beauty as a guise.
Mine.
Three taps drummed against the bar top. Tap. Tap. Tap.
She hadn’t looked at me the entire time she sang, but now her gaze was locked, and I braced for the storm.
She knew. Who I was, what I carried. She knew exactly who I was.
I glanced at Callum. His eyes were fixed, unblinking, his mug frozen near his lips. I jabbed a finger into his arm. “Cal?”
Nothing. His stare was still chained to Nezra on the bar. I looked to Reve, to his companions, all of them locked in the same trance.
All eyes on Nezra. Motionless.
The music had died, yet the silence remained. This wasn’t a charm. The eyes. The voice. The damned songs—
It was a snare.
Nezra was a fucking Liraern.
But Liraerns belonged to the depths, to salt and storm. So, what in the gods’ names was she doing on land?
She slid from the bar, and I was already on my feet, dagger braced in my palm before I even registered drawing it.
My blade swept across the room, cutting through shadows. “What did you do to them?”
She tilted her head, raven lifting from her shoulder, wings rattling as it flew into the rafters. Her cloak was gone, leaving the leathered armor top visible now.
Warrior, not performer.
“I merely wanted to talk, little bird.”
“That,” I jerked the blade toward the rafters, “is a bird. I’m neither winged, nor interested in conversation. You’ve mistaken me for someone else.”
Her brow arched as her palms opened, and the runes inked into her gloves burned in the dim. Explaining the memory, the trance, the way she’d gutted my defenses without lifting a blade.
“Oh, you are many things.” Her smile cut deep. “But I know exactly who you are, Viper.”
Fuck. This was not good.
So why did I smile as I asked, “How?”
She paced, hands folding neatly behind her back. The runes on her gloves pulsed still, violet bright.
I eased in front of Callum, jabbing my heel into his shin. His mug tipped, ale spilling down his chin, soaking the front of his tunic. Oops.
“I’ve been looking for you,” the evenness of her voice slicked between us, “for a very long time.”
Eight years. That was how long I’d worn the Viper’s skin. Hardly an eternity.
“If you know who I am, then you know how deadly I can be.” The curse slithered against my skull. I prayed it wasn’t answering her. My breath slipped past my lips, fangs sliding free. No point in hiding them. “I suggest you choose your next words carefully.”
Her eyes widened, strictly in wonder. “Verena,” she whispered. “There is nothing to fear.”
I laughed, the sound catching on my teeth. “I do not fear you.”
“No,” she murmured. “But you fear what you want to do to me. You fear the darkness in you will rise too quickly. That you won’t be able to stop it.”
She knew too damn much. About the curse. About us.
“I have the answers you’re looking for, little bird.” She stepped closer. “Haven’t I proven you can trust me?”
Little bird, little bird…
It rang through my mind like a bell from another lifetime. Not spun from her tricks, only my own tragedy. I shook the echo from my skull.
“Mind tricks are an easy hand to play,” I said, using the tip of my blade to aim toward her hand.
“You’ve obviously dabbled in witchcraft.
The runes carved into your palms are a practical touch.
” She flinched, just barely. Though I wasn’t sure what part of what I guessed shook her.
“And showing me the Gods who abandoned us?” My fangs grazed my lip.
“It doesn’t exactly scream trustworthy.”
The lights quivered, shadows stretching thinner, like time was a string being pulled too far.
“Tricks,” she purred, “are not my game. I prefer honesty.” Her gaze slid to the raven, then to Callum, then back to me. “It gets you further.”
Another step. The raven launched from the rafters, landing against her shoulder, one eye pulsing, the other nothing but dusk.
“I’ve just opened your cage door, little bird. Would you like to fly free?” A beat of time returned. “Fly home perhaps?”
She finally closed the distance, close enough for me to see the charred skin mottling across her shoulders. Close enough that, with a single breath, I could bury my dagger into her gut.
“Let me lead you there,” she whispered. The dagger trembled in my grip, a shiver running down the blade like it felt her too. “Stop being afraid of who you are.”
Before I could so much as inhale her words, she turned, her steps as smooth and fluid as her voice as she drifted toward the door.
Before crossing the threshold, she looked back once, eyes locking on mine. Then her hand raised, tapping against her temple—
Once. Twice. Three times.
Just like that, the tavern drew breath. Voices collided, mugs clinked, ale sloshed. Heat returned to my skin like a tide rushing back. Along with the verse that unfurled at the edge of my memory—
Little bird, little bird… the shadows all bend.
You breathe out beginnings and swallow the end.
Someone had sung that to me, long before tonight. I remembered. It was my first recollection that I was someone else, once. That maybe I belonged somewhere. To someone.
Callum cursed beside me, looking down at the brew soaking his tunic.
Reve blinked up at the bar, dazed, like a man surfacing from deep water. “She left?” he asked.
I nodded, still trying to ground myself. “Yeah. You don’t remember? She finished her final song and said it was her last night here.” I tipped my head. “Unfortunately for you.”
He scratched at his temple, brow creasing. “Weird. I remember her singing…then I blinked, and she was gone.”
Good to know the entire tavern wasn’t now privy to the catastrophe of finding out the very Viper from Nezra’s song stood beside them.
“You’ve had a lot to drink.” I yanked him up from his seat. “You can go chase her down if you wish. Maybe she’ll be happy to scratch that itch you have for her.”
“Hm.” Reve crooned, collapsing back against the table. “Am I sensing jealousy?”
I rolled my eyes, throwing his arm against his lap, motioning for Callum to follow as I turned on my heels. We threaded through the crowd quickly, though I was careful not to look too eager.
She’d be gone. I knew it. But I didn’t care.