Page 25 of House of the Beast

I turned away, pleased by his words, but at the same time un sure of their implications. What would it be like when there was no boundary between us? In so many ways, we were already one—but when I truly embraced his power, what more would he have to take from me?

“We still have to find the Wanderer first,” I said. “Assuming the others don’t find it before us.”

I could believe that Aster would lend me the power needed to defeat a fallen star—but my father and cousin were strong.

As always, I would need to prove myself worthy of being the Beast’s chosen one, and that meant outsmarting my family as well as everyone else.

All four elder gods would be guiding their vessels toward the star.

It wasn’t unheard of for one House’s contingent to fight another’s to the death, if that was what stood in the way of their glory.

The other Houses might think a lone bastard not worth the brawl, but if I ran into my father or Kaim upon the umbral plane, I had little doubt that it would come to blows.

I continued to flip through my journal, bypassing the section I had copied from a book in the library that described the terrors I would encounter—or at least the ones that had been documented, from umbral mind worms to ghouls to mimics and everything in between—until I found the map I had copied of the city.

The page was crammed with extensive notes on landmarks and streets I needed to remember.

The umbral plane was but a dark mirror of our world, and entering through Sorrowsend meant I’d be traversing the same streets and buildings on the other side.

Knowing one world would help me survive in the other.

I consulted these notes now, running a finger over the designs I had drawn with the care of a monk writing scripture.

Though they would not make up for my lack of experience, it was the best I could do for the time being.

I would have only days to explore the city before the gate opened; an efficient plan was key.

“I’ll walk the perimeter of the city first and then work my way in,” I said absently, tracing the route with my finger. “I could cover the whole city in two days, maybe.”

“Don’t forget there’s still the ceremony of initiation,” Aster chirped, reaching down to drag my feet into his lap.

I groaned at the reminder. Not because I was afraid of the ceremony itself—but because there was a banquet involved, and this time all the lords and ladies of Sorrowsend would be there to witness it.

I was not looking forward to making a spectacle of myself again.

Aster was right. Once I was in charge, I would do away with all this elaborate ceremony and focus only on the important things.

Surely these resources could be used for better purposes.

Shifting to make myself comfortable, I quickly lost myself in my notes.

A commotion outside was what roused me from my study an hour or so later.

Music was humming against the glass of the window I had rested my head against. The carriage I was in had a view of the station gates, and through those gates I could see a group of townsfolk had gathered toward the platform, cheering.

It seemed that my family had arrived.

Sitting up, I tucked the journal back into my suitcase.

Outside, the stationmaster and a small army of smartly dressed staff supplicated themselves in welcome as spotlessly polished black Avera carriages with gilded wheels rattled up to the entrance.

The crowd’s revelry grew as the doors were opened by valets with immaculate white gloves.

My relatives glided out, noble and glamorous enough to be deities.

To the people of Avera, they pretty much were.

More than one person was weeping with joy at the sight of them.

The maidens holding flowers tossed them at my cousin.

To my disgust, a few were given to my father as well, who accepted them smugly, even with Euphina at his side.

This journey marked the beginning of his dream being realized, a lifetime of scheming finally come to fruition.

I could not wait to wipe that expression off his face.

He was first to enter the station, followed by a contingent of a dozen or so Dreadguard.

All of them were accomplished warriors who had been baptized under the Dread Beast’s name.

The temple had been busy with these ceremonies the last couple of days, for both my father’s men and Kaim’s.

These men were not vessels like us, not being of the blood—but they would have some degree of godly protection, which they would need to withstand the umbral plane’s influence.

If too much ichor was enough to drive a vessel to madness, it wouldn’t take much to end a mere mortal.

Kaim came in next, with Darantha and Fion at his heels and his own small troop of Dreadguard marching after.

The station staff scurried to accommodate them, taking stacks of luggage, escorting them on board their luxury cars.

I saw my father’s eyes sweep over the length of the train before he stepped on.

Perhaps he was wondering where I was, hoping I hadn’t managed to make it.

I didn’t hide, necessarily, just relaxed farther into my seat.

Aster gave me a knowing look all the same.

The Antecedent was here, too, to wave us off, attended by his own army of servants. Two to push his chair around, two to make sure he remained in the shade lest the sunlight crumble him into dust, and two more to carry refreshments.

And then came Sevelie, who, to my surprise, also boarded the train with a handful of her maids.

She was wearing a stylishly cut trench coat in Avera black, though the ends of her ruffled pale pink skirt were visible beneath it.

I had assumed she would be attending the Pilgrimage like most of the lords and ladies, but I hadn’t expected her to be taking the same train as the family.

Truth be told, I didn’t think that Kaim would invite her.

Outside the station, the Antecedent began quavering something at the townspeople.

I could not hear his words through the window’s glass, but clearly they were important, given the way everyone quickly fell silent.

Some closed their eyes, while others held their palms up to their chests or turned their faces skyward.

Praying. All of them no doubt wishing fervently for one of House Avera’s champions to bring glory back home.

I shifted in my seat.

What was he saying? I wondered. A grand send-off for Avera’s champions, no doubt—but would I be included in it?

I had not spoken to him at all after my stunt during the trial.

I thought of our first meeting all those years ago, and the way he had squinted at me over his breakfast. Had he imagined then that I would one day become such trouble?

Or was he glad, perhaps, that Zander’s bastard had turned out to be so devout?

What would he say if I returned, victorious?

The door to my carriage slammed open.

“There you are!” said Sevelie, out of breath like she had been searching for something.

I startled, hard enough that I fell against the wall and banged the back of my head on the window with a decidedly undignified noise. “What?” I managed.

Was she in the wrong car? Had she forgotten who I was? We didn’t often speak; maybe she thought I was one of the attendants, like the stationmaster had done.

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” she said. “Why on earth are you tucked away in this dreary little cabin when there’s a lounge and a dining car nearby? Oh, I suppose it doesn’t matter. I’m just glad you’re here, Alma—I was so afraid when you didn’t show up as we were leaving!”

“What?” I said again. “What are you talking about? Why are you here?”

“Why, dear cousin,” said Sevelie, her smile bright enough to rival the sun. “I’m here to keep an eye on you, of course.”