Page 29

28

The fiery prince glared wickedly at the healer by his feet. “You mean to tell me,” Acastus growled out, “that you traveled all this way, just to reiterate how useless you truly are?”

The healer refused to recoil from Cas’ darkening words. “As I stated when I arrived, I do not pretend to be sufficient in cursed ailments.”

“You’re the most prominent magick healer this side of the Gilded River. Your fucking title deems you a bloody oracle of restoration for fuck’s sake.”

“I can understand your frustration, My Prince. But no one in the east deals with dark magick to any degree. It’s been a forbidden act for centuries. You won’t find any healer here who will offer their assistance.”

Acastus half-grinned, his eyes sharpening and flickering silver.

“My Prince, perhaps the oracle need only time to rest after his long journey. Surely?—”

Acastus cut off the arbiter, standing swiftly from his seat. “I’m to believe no archmage in the east breaks the law? Is that what you’re suggesting?”

The oracle shifted on the balls of his feet, the only indication he was unnerved. “Of course there are. But no one in their right senses would ostentate a rogue archmage if they valued their life. Not even for the prince of Solstrale.”

The air thickened in the room, Acastus’ council members silent, lost for words to placate their leader. Acastus let out a stifled laugh before his gloves made a ripping sound. It took Acastus two steps to reach the oracle, claws outstretched from the holes in his leather gloves, navy feathers sprouting out of his skin where the sleeve of his tunic rode up. His inhuman digits wrapped tightly around the healer’s neck, the air whooshing out of his mouth in a single breath.

Evrardin rolled his eyes in annoyance, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Charlatans. The lot of you.” Acastus’ voice was drenched in muck and silt, his regal lilt abandoned, his irises corroding entirely slate-gray.

Evrardin glanced over to Acastus’ council, waiting for one of them to step in and alleviate their prince. When no one moved, Evrardin mirthlessly smiled. “Cowards.” Evrardin may have been prohibited from interfering, but the royal arbiter, high priest, master of coin, and warmonger were not cursed to the prince like the captain was. Their lack of measure stemmed purely from sheer cowardice.

Blood began to pool out between the gaps of Acastus’ fingers, the oracle sputtering as the liquid filled his throat and cascaded out of his mouth. Acastus’ lip ticked and a crack sounded from the oracle’s neck. He immediately went slack in Acastus’ unnaturally strong grip before he threw him back, his body slumping over like a wet rag. Red now stained the navy feathers on Cas’ arm, his hand shaking violently. Acastus stumbled back, clutching his weaponized hand to his chest as if it had lost all sensation.

He groaned, the feathers slowly falling away and returning to his normal—albeit ashened—arm. However, without notice, one tattered feather floated silently to the floor, fluttering in a whirl before getting stuck under one of the table’s legs.

Evrardin took an exhaustive breath before stalking over to the deceased healer and scooping his corpse into his embrace. The rest of his council watched on in apprehension, glancing at one another.

Lord Alfson approached the prince, offering his aid, and Acastus shoved him off, standing back to his full height. As Evrardin escorted the healer’s body out, a blood trail marking behind him, Acastus’ shouting grew fainter. “This was your doing, Alfson.”

“My Prince, he is most reputable. I had no inkling he wouldn’t be sufficient?—”

Evrardin carried the body down the corridor, shaking his head at Acastus’ refusal to be guided. To heed anyone's advice, warning him he was using too much dark magick. He wouldn’t be able to stop the change if he kept exhausting his body like that.

Lord Cofsi came around the bend and halted when he spotted Evrardin. “Do I even want to know?” he asked, referring to the bloody corpse Evrardin carried.

Evrardin couldn’t tell him even if he asked. “No.”

Lord Cofsi seemed hesitant, like he might inquire further, but the prince’s shrieking rang down the hall. Cofsi nodded his head in understanding. “Is the high priest in?” Cofsi asked, gesturing his head back the way Evrardin came.

“Yes.”

The prince’s voice cursing out his council echoed off the walls.

“Though I’m sure he wished he wasn’t,” Evrardin added.

Lord Cofsi gave him a tight smile.

“If you go now,” Ev began, “you might walk in on something you shouldn’t.”

Lord Cofsi almost smirked, something secret passing between the men. “Understood.”

Evrardin began walking again and Lord Cofsi continued his trek toward the vestry.