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Evander

T he fear in her eyes when I leave the room is agonizing.

I long to stay with her, to keep her in my sights, worried what might happen if I leave her alone.

But the words I spoke just moments before are true.

Meeting with my father and Luthais right now is crucial in our story being accepted, a critical piece of my father believing me and my reasoning for returning.

And luckily, the two people most capable of harming Bria are right here with me.

Luthais stays by my father’s side the entire excruciating walk down the hallway.

I was never keen on Luthais. I remember hearing he was orphaned as a teenager and ended up in the capital, though I never heard what fate befell his parents.

Aamon made a habit of gathering any children of age who were abandoned to the temples each year and training them for the king’s army.

Luthais was one of the children taken in by the priests who worshipped Vaohr in his later years. Brought up inside the tainted religion.

He joined the army my last year in the capital, making him about twenty, I think.

So young to have risen the ranks as quickly as he had.

But there was something about Luthais. He was a merciless killer, naturally gifted with the agility and strength befitting a warrior.

The only other natural-born warrior I’d met like that was Quinn.

And despite my loyalty to Quinn, the rumors of Luthais made me wonder if even Quinn could best him.

Luthais had never spoken of his life before he came to live here. And no one in Easthallow seemed to know his history. He kept his personal life secret and the lack of information surrounding him made me uncomfortable. He was an enigma here and I had no trust nor use for the man.

Aamon turns down one of the side hallways and strides into a large meeting room.

There is a fireplace in the center of the back wall, though it remains unlit.

Most of the fireplaces in the castle and throughout the city are never lit.

They’re merely decorative pieces added to rooms to make them feel more comfortable, to make the palace rooms cozier for guests.

The temperature rarely gets cold enough here to require use of them.

When my father takes one of the high-backed, crushed velvet seats, Luthais settles into the one directly to his left.

I wince at the slight despite myself and move into a chair across from them.

A servant comes to deliver a tray with a crystal decanter of whiskey and three glasses on the low table nestled between the chairs before taking her leave.

No one speaks until she’s out of earshot.

Reaching forward, Luthais moves to pour two glasses, handing one to my father before sitting back in his seat with the other.

Another slight, but I let it go. His gray eyes are firmly set on me.

Aamon takes a sip of the amber liquid and clears his throat, resting it on his crossed legs as he throws me a glance.

“So, Evander,” he drawls, eyes piercing as they watch me. “Tell me exactly what you have been up to over the last year.”

I’m ready for this question, having practiced my lines with Quinn for hours today while we picked our way across the Gilded Forest. Both Quinn and Bria helped to craft a perfect response that should hopefully keep us from being found out.

I was not prepared to have Luthais staring me down while I deliver the well-thought-out lines, but I choose to ignore the man.

He’s trying to get under my skin, though I can’t quite figure out why.

And he was watching Bria closely, to a degree that makes worry creep through me.

I could try to glean more information about him while we’re here, but I know the attempt may be futile given how guarded he is about his life.

So, I steel my eyes on my father and let the half-truths and lies flow.

“As I’m sure you are aware, I spent the last year with the rebels. I found one of their camps, the one in the north,” I begin, settling my back against the chair to assume a more relaxed position.

“Yes.” Aamon‘s eyes darken and he speaks through clenched teeth. “I heard my only son ran off with the rebels. You’ll need to let us in on that location, my boy.”

Luthais cuts in before I have a chance to respond. “The whole of Easthallow heard about it Evander.” His lip curls into a sneer once more, anger radiating from him. “Heard how you sold out your own to that rebel bitch Helara.”

“Careful, Keating.” Aamon cuts the man a sharp glare before setting his eyes back on me. “Your feelings aside, you are still speaking to my son.”

This comment should have made me feel as though my father loves me.

It would have made any other child feel protected, swell with confidence that their parent cares enough to stand up for them.

But I know better. I’m aware that my father’s love only extends so far, and this has more to do with my usefulness right now than any feelings he harbors toward me.

Aamon wouldn’t want to ruffle any feathers, knowing I have who he wants so badly—knowing I hold her in the palm of my hand.

“Of course I’ll give you the location. Perhaps you could find me a map tomorrow and we can discuss where they are hidden. But he’s right, Father,” I acknowledge, sitting forward to pour myself a generous glass of the whiskey.

I keep an eye on Luthais to gauge his reaction while I agree with his scathing comments meant to wound.

“I did sell you out, I left in the middle of the night, and I rode straight until I found that camp. I gave that rebel bitch you speak of anything and everything she wanted.” The retort hits hard, and I sit back in my chair with the whiskey.

Luthais’s eyes are vast orbs of slate gray now, and the sneer is gone. The last thing he expected from me was this type of confession. He was looking to cut me down until I broke from rage. But this is what I had practiced.

I look back toward my father. “For years, since we arrived at the capital, I was searching for the location of the rebels.”

Aamon nods, taking a sip of the drink clasped tightly in his hand.

That was something I never tried to hide from my father or anyone else, my inquiries regarding the rebels.

I took part in countless tortures of innocent people.

It was a prominent part of my job while here.

It was expected of me. To burn, beat, carve, and worse.

I steal a glance down at my hands. These hands had done those things.

The torture I was forced to participate in was for the Crown to gain information on the rebels, but I’d used it to gain any information about where my friends were. Where Bria was.

Often those being tortured had no inkling of where the rebel forces were or what they were doing.

Some were rebels themselves and never yielded any information, even when tortured.

Others were just attempting to keep a family member or loved one safe and had no information to give.

More still were turned in by angry neighbors, betrayed by friends, and they were innocent.

Though, I suppose they were all innocent, no matter which side they were on.

One day, we found a boy. I can see him now, his lanky form and young face with striking, forest green eyes.

He must have been maybe sixteen or seventeen when we caught him sneaking children out of a nearby village.

I was on patrol that day, returning to the capital, when we crossed paths with the boy.

He put up a fight but was untrained and the three people he was leading to safety were unarmed.

Those three people were children, children with magic in their blood, being transported for safekeeping before they came of age and revealed any gifts they might have.

I wanted to let them flee, to let them all go and live their lives, but I was not alone that day.

Theo had been there, along with another soldier, Matheus.

We bound the children’s hands and carried them back to the castle on horseback.

I was the one who subdued the boy after he nearly lodged a dagger in my throat.

I recall knocking him out and tossing his limp body across my horse before chaining him in the dungeons below Castle Eccleston.

When the boy came to, I was the one standing in front of him, Matheus by my side.

That night, I interrogated him while Matheus dissected him with daggers, careful to avoid any vital organs or arteries.

And when the change of guards came, allowing us reprieve of our roles for the day, Matheus left.

But I stayed. I stayed and rubbed salve on the boy’s wounds.

We always allowed some healing to occur before we inflicted more torment, keeping prisoners on the brink of death but not letting them tip over the edge before we were ready.

The boy begged for death, pleaded with me to put him out of his misery.

His body had been slack with blood loss when I’d hauled him to his feet, drawing my own face close to his ear so only he could hear.

I spoke to him of the old gods, of Lilith and Kiara, and revealed the amulet I wore, hidden deep under my armor—the circular pendant, filled with sunstone and moonstone.

The sun and moon united as one. The prophecy.