Chapter 6
Kassiel
Rion fucked with my plans, took it upon himself to change everything the moment he went into that dungeon, and to what, claim her? She was my prisoner. My responsibility. Mine.
The door squeals in protest as my boot meets the heavy planks in a forceful kick, it slaps back towards me and I stop it with my outstretched arm. Reverberations bounce against the stone walls from the door meeting the outside barrier. The echoes of chaos mirror the thoughts in my head.
I’m not sure where that prick ran off to, but I assume it’s somewhere in Astoria with his pants down and otherwise engaged.
Hues of pink and purple wash the sky in their deep shades. Moonrise is upon us and I make my way to the earthen soil in the orchard. Brisk night air cools the heat of my skin, helping to wick away some of the anger inside me as well.
She looked so helpless when I found them tangled in the dirt.
I could taste the fear in the air before I even saw her.
Her face was painted beautifully in gore, covering those delicate freckles.
I wanted nothing more than to snap in that moment, my death’s touch itching to devour his soul.
To take away any sense of peace he would feel in the veil.
That feeling unsettles me, I wanted to use my magic. And the fascination of her was nothing to be expected - I haven’t felt an interest in anything in centuries.
I had come back to this small fortress, where the dungeons were located, and saw my guard dead. With Alora missing, I knew Rion was somehow involved. My spies hadn’t told me of any changes from the others in the rebel group. They were still unaware of where Alora was being held.
A soft patter of feet catches my attention. Rune. He’s the only one who would be out here as my guards have retired. It’s just the two of us who stand watch over her.
Waiting until dawn when we can deliver her to the fates proves difficult when it seems she’s acquired the interest of Rion. He’s tricky when determined and I don’t expect him to give up the chase this easily.
Pacing as Rune greets me, I give him a deft nod.
“I hope you’ve brought plenty of your special tonic.”
His mouth quirks up, making his already thin lips smaller. His sandy skin stands out in this darkness. He reaches into his satchel with a quick swipe and shakes a brown corked bottle at me.
The mischief in his dark eyes is typical of our time spent alone. There was a time I hated him. Assumed he was just a mindless fuck whose only ability was to carry his self-absorbed brain on his shoulders.
“Kass, I see you’re…you. So serious.”
I force my tense shoulders to ease.
“Give me a drink, you bastard.” A gravely laugh huffs out as I rip the bottle from his grasp and take a greedy gulp.
The tonic feels warm as it slides down my throat, it’s so much better than Rion’s piss excuse for port. The drink really should be called nectar of the gods because it acts as a salve on my prickly mood. My body grows heavier and I slump against a rock, my mind quieting.
With a lowered voice, Rune asks, “What’s wrong, old friend? I haven’t seen your eyes so shadowed in years.”
I pause and look at him. Study him. I haven’t felt this chaotic in thoughts in years, it’s true.
“Rion chased Alora into the woods today,” another swig of tonic and I continue on, “I don’t know if he found her out there, if she had somehow escaped, or if he was the reason she was out of there to begin with.”
Rune’s brows rise. His silence spurs me to continue.
“When I found them, he was on top of her and she was bloody.” This last part falls from my lips, leaving a hard smile plastered to my face.
“I see.” His voice is clipped.
I exhale a deep breath through my nose and lift my face to the cooling air.
“Is it Rion then that bothers you, or the girl?”
Frowning, I turn towards him. “Perhaps both, if I’m being honest, and that alone is most concerning.”
Rune is still, eyeing me, his expression unreadable.
I shift away as if to shield my thoughts. He can read me easily, as if he was a mapmaker and I, his inked parchment.
“Rion is a bastard. We both know that.” He grabs the bottle from me and takes a quick drink. “Did you bring her back?” His eyes spark with curiosity or concern, I assume the latter as we both know how displeased the king would be if she was lost to him.
“Of course I did, you idiot. She’s one reason we’re all in this crock of shit. The king can’t handle the fact his beloved kingdom isn’t kissing his fucking feet. She and the rest of The Hidden do everything to keep the tensions high.”
I turn to face him again. “I’m his loyal servant, as we all are. That’s the beginning and end. We don’t question, we do.” It’s taken Rune and me a long time to learn this unlike Orlin, who’s eagerness to be the favorite of King Euron is his very reason to exist.
Rune’s jaw ticks just before taking a long pull of the tonic. “We live to serve, that much is true.”
Silence between us draws on, letting the song of the night build with each passing beat.
The fall of an axe has my head snapping in the direction of the sound. Rune looks up at me from his kneeling position, axe in hand. Giving me a sardonic smile, he drops the tool again on a small log, cutting it into small pieces.
“You’re not going to sleep tonight, I can already tell. Something is up your ass and you’re going to tell me, damnit.”
Rune looks at me expectantly, as if he could will my mouth to open and reveal my thoughts to spill over.
My jaw remains tight.
“Kass, I’m not sure what troubles you. This is just another step toward the end. Once we get rid of the rebels, well, we might have a chance to be free. To live as we—”
I slam my fist against a nearby tree.
“We’ll never be free. Don’t forget that, Rune.
Of all people I thought you’d understand.
You were the one who slapped those manacles on me, after all.
” My chest heaves and my shadows begin to swim to the surface.
“We haven’t been free in over two hundred turns.
We won’t ever be, especially with that twisted bastard who is so willing to whisper everything to the king. ”
I pull my shirt collar down to accentuate the mark inked on me. The black band that encircles my neck, collaring me to the king’s will. It’s now as much a part of me as the death curse I bear.
“I can’t pretend I have another choice, Rune. I’ve already lost everything. We’re brothers by fate because we’re both at his majesty’s will. Both of us inked with the Nasc Gal, the damned eternal tie that forces us to do as King Euron wishes.”
His head sinks, the glimmer of hope now gone. His voice is as stony as I feel when he says, “We both may share that wicked bond given from those ancient witches forcing us to be tied to the king for eternity, or until he finds his ass in the depths of Haldir, but I don’t regret our kinship.”
He throws a log on the small fire he ignited during my rant and doesn’t look back at me, any warmth we might have had in our mood now smothered out.
“Your friendship with me is only due to our circumstances. You would have kept me at a distance like all others before you once you’d learned of Mors Finalem.”
I look into the sky and study the moons glowing bright. “They’ve all eventually run or been killed because of me. You know it. I’m better off alone. I’m no better than Orlin and his ability to torment the mind.”
It pains me to beat down Rune in this way.
To harden him against me and to continue choosing isolation.
But getting too close to me only ends in suffering, for both of us.
If King Euron knew we hoped for escape, even after all this time, we would be tortured and Orlin would be all too willing to pierce our minds.
To imagine being free only stirs memories I’d rather leave buried in their watery grave. I tried that once, and all I learned was that I’ll only be untied to this life of servitude when I greet the veil, and for now, that’s rather impossible.
Instead, I’ll continue on, numbing myself more every day until I can finally be that hollow shell, waiting to be stomped out.
I was doing well with that until she came along.
For some reason, that blasted woman with star-kissed cheeks has done more to unravel the threads sewing me closed in mere days than I could weave in two hundred years.
“I’m going to keep watch first.” I make way toward the path that leads to the fortress’s door. I’d rather sit close to her than listen to Rune gripe. I’ll leave him to his souring mood and keep my little warrior safe for the night, at least from Rion.
Tomorrow she’ll meet a much bigger horror than him.
“Don’t get too attached, Kassiel,” Rune calls through the night air. “The king expects you to put on a show for the rest of the village when you take her soul. He won’t risk her crossing the veil again to cause him more shit.”
A stone drops in my stomach. There’s nothing I hate more than publicly stealing a soul away. This lesson isn’t just for the villagers and The Hidden. It’s also a message to me, one I understand all too clearly.
I am his weapon.
His Executioner.
The Devourer.