Chapter 21 #2
He runs a hand slowly down his face and over the short stubble.
“Salaryan is an oligarchy. Power lies with a few egotistical men who control it by placing their personal endeavors at the forefront. They decide where soldiers are stationed, which cities deserve protection, and which information the general population should be made aware of. It’s self-preservation at its finest, and transparency at its worst,” he says, giving me his undivided attention.
“The underprivileged and those with less to offer feel the brunt of it,” he finishes, something deeper lacing every word.
This is all common knowledge, but to speak it aloud is heresy. I cast a glance around to be sure we’re alone. “This is dangerous territory, Adair,” I whisper.
“Which is why I brought you up here, where we’re alone.”
I huff out a laugh. “And you trust me not to repeat any of this?”
“Yes,” he answers without hesitation, inclining his head.
“This information is important and not something you’re going to learn in any classroom,” he states.
“The realm used to be run by those who were taught the responsibilities and sacrifices needed to rule a kingdom from their very birth. It was granted to men and women through hereditary succession. Those who had an entire upbringing of duties and obligations thrust upon their shoulders.” His words are heavy, but his deliverance is executed with passion.
“They bore the weight of an entire kingdom with the well-being of their citizens at the forefront. Their crowns were crushing, but they wore them with resolve, and the kingdom prospered because of it.”
My mouth opens and then closes.
For a second, I say nothing, just stare at his warm brown eyes that watch me with an unreadable expression. “Are you telling me that Salaryan used to be run by royals?” I question, full of incredulity.
“That’s just the tip of the iceberg.”
I pace back and forth in front of him, my boots wearing a thin trail in the freshly fallen snow. He patiently waits for me to absorb what he’s telling me. His broody form is now resting against the wall, his legs crossed in front of him and arms folded.
I stop and face him, nodding once for him to continue.
He indulges me. “Members of the royal family, whether immediate or extended, were classified as Noctryns.”
The breath lodges in my throat. There’s no fucking way.
“It was a right bestowed at birth and not by a military academy,” he continues, like he didn’t just rob me of my breath.
“Their dark manifestations were revered, not feared. And they were manifestations, not something given because they sacrificed abilities to wield darkness. It’s all propaganda shoved down our throats, and we chew and swallow without questioning it,” he says, disgust evident in his tone.
“They protected their people from outside forces of any kind, even building walls to keep the enemy out and performing blood magic to keep the wraiths at bay. The Noctryns were respected and loved by their people. Their armies were feared across the domains.” His eyes bore into mine.
“The most elite and powerful stood guard at the royal’s side. ”
“And who were they?”
He clenches and unclenches his fists at his sides. “Veils,” he reveals.
A shiver runs down my spine.
Impossible. This is all impossible.
“Nothing is impossible, Caderyn.”
“No,” I breathe, “this isn’t true. You’re lying. Why are you telling me this?” I demand, walking up and poking a finger in his chest. The red M at his shoulder stands out like a mockery among the lies he’s spewing. “The Veils never served the Noctryns. We detest everything you stand for!”
He looks down at me through his lashes. “I’m telling you this, Heathen, because you deserve to know.
You’re half Noctryn, whether you want to admit it or not.
This may help you see us in a different light.
” His face is stoic, but his eyes are filled with something I can’t quite put my finger on.
“What you do with this information is entirely up to you. However, I highly recommend keeping it disclosed. Not everyone is privy to it, not even all of the dark regiment at this academy.”
I walk to stand beside him and clutch the edge of the battlement walls, knuckles turning white as I stare at nothing and everything. All the lessons I was raised upon are carefully crafted lies? Why? Why would the divide between the two powerhouses be encouraged?
Is Kingston being honest, or is this some sort of devious plot to bury me?
I don’t doubt he has something up his sleeve, just like Ambrose said.
“What happened to these so-called royals?” I ask, trying to find holes in his story.
“Glad you asked,” he answers, stepping a little too close and invading my space.
“Assassinated. Picked off one by one, and those who they couldn’t get to were targets of a smear campaign, turning the Veils against them,” he says, his breath falling over my ear.
“Their most trusted soldiers became their most determined hunters. The immediate royal line was wiped out, and the remaining Noctryns were enlisted as mere foot soldiers.”
The gray stones of Kintoira Academy sit in front of us. An academy built on deceit and sinister plots, if what Kingston is saying is true.
His eyes take on a faraway look as he leans back and keeps talking.
“A lethal army of both light and dark magic was put together to protect a small group of weak-minded men. Men who ran the kingdom into the ground. An academy was created for future generations to be classified into the categories they deemed appropriate.” A dark laugh slips free.
“The very same academy you’re currently enrolled in. ”
I watch him start to pace the battlement, his face drawn into harsh lines while he talks.
I stay quiet, letting him tell me everything.
“They made a mistake, though. They didn’t count on the surviving original Noctryns refusing to forget and not letting the grudge die.
The blood magic woven into Salaryan’s walls, the ones that kept the abnormalities out, eventually failed, and the casting needed to resurrect it died with the royals,” he says.
“A separation between the magic was created, and simultaneously, Salaryan was opened up to be preyed upon by forces darker than they could have imagined.”
If this is true, which I’m not saying it is, but if it is, at one point in time, there was no mistrust and hatred between the two powerhouses. They fought side by side and trusted each other before turning on one another.
I blow out a breath and stare at the cold man before me. Timeless, distant, and full of things still left unsaid. His mask never fell, but it shifted, showing something raw and real. Perhaps his silence isn’t detachment but protection.
I have a million things on my plate and a hundred places I’m supposed to be, but first, I’m visiting the library.