Page 34 of House of the Beast

We were led, of course, to the table where everyone was dressed in black—the one designated for House Avera, around which my father, Euphina, Darantha, and Kaim were already seated.

Darantha took one look at me as we approached and scoffed.

“There she is: the hellion of Avera.”

It was funny that my father had spent so much of my youth drilling me on proper etiquette for a young woman, yet no one else seemed concerned about treating me like one.

Darantha turned to Sevelie, and her whole countenance sweetened. “Sevelie, darling,” she said. “I hope you haven’t been putting yourself through too much trouble. Kaim has been missing you, you know.”

Given what Sevelie had told me, I highly doubted that was the case—though it seemed like he had told his mother about Sevelie’s plan to keep an eye on me.

I could not help shooting a glance at my cousin to gauge his reaction.

He looked as cold and uncaring as ever—yet I could see how a younger Sevelie would have fallen in love with him, before he broke her heart.

“I’m doing well, Auntie, thank you; I know you worry too much,” said Sevelie politely as the attendant guided us to our seats before quickly scurrying away.

As I sat, I realized this was my first time speaking to Darantha properly in years.

She had dressed herself immaculately, as usual, but there was something worn about her eyes.

She looked tired. I thought about my Uncle Maximus’s continued absence, and wondered how she was handling her husband’s imminent approach to madness.

“Well, don’t strain yourself, dear,” said Darantha. “We all know what Zander’s daughter is like. Why, I wasn’t sure if she would even show up tonight.”

“It’s custom for the whole House to be in attendance, Darantha,” my father drawled. “With how eager you are to act as Maximus’s speaker, perhaps you should review Avera’s traditions. Besides, this is a lovely opportunity for us to talk to Alma.”

Euphina sat to his right, and I had been seated to his left—and though there was some distance between us because of the table’s sheer size, being in any proximity to his sneering face still soured my mood.

“An opportunity to admonish her for sullying her family’s good name?” said Darantha, her expression pinching as she turned to me. “Yes, I quite agree. You’ve gotten enough attention by now, surely. It’s time for you to go home, and then perhaps your father can teach you something about manners.”

“I believe you’re the last person here to be lecturing anyone about behavior,” said my father mildly.

Darantha turned red with fury. “A bold statement from you, Zander. Coming here while Maximus is in this state, hoping to wrest away his authority. Have you no shame?”

“It is precisely because Maximus is in this state that I must relieve him of his duty.”

“That is Kaim’s role, as heir to the First Hand.”

I glanced toward Kaim, but he did not seem to care much for this conversation. He was staring flatly at the table’s centerpiece over the edge of his glass of wine.

My father set down his own glass with a decisive clink. “A role he would not take on until his father is a drooling invalid, taken advantage of by everyone in the capital—including his wife. I have a chance, right now, to alter that situation, and yet I am opposed by everyone at this table.”

For perhaps the first time in our lives, Darantha and I shared matching reactions, scorn creeping upon our faces.

My father truly thought he was going to be Avera’s savior.

The worst part was, he had the best chance among all of us to do it.

I wasn’t a fool—I knew he was a skilled swordsman, and he had amassed a veritable number of supporters among the Dreadguard.

And he knew how to schmooze with the other Houses, which was a skill Kaim and I both lacked.

Darantha said, “I’d rather see Maximus die upon his seat than let you take it.”

My father spread his hands beseechingly. “Where is he now? Unable to make it even to the ceremony of initiation. Has he had another episode? How many maids will you allow to be mauled before you admit he is unfit?”

“You would know how to handle the maids, wouldn’t you?”

This was a far cry from my quiet, solitary meals at the estate.

Nobody at this table could stand each other, not even those who were supposed to be aligned.

Euphina, here ostensibly to support my father, clearly did not want to give him the time of day, and despite Darantha’s fervent advocacy, I hadn’t seen Kaim acknowledge her even once.

Everything about this family was a farce. Even if I were not sworn to vengeance against my father, I would have wanted to become First Hand myself, just to prove how unworthy they were of the power they held.

“You won’t last in the umbral plane,” Darantha was saying now. When I glanced over, I realized she was addressing me. “The terrors will rip you apart. Your father won’t listen to reason, so maybe you will. The Beast favors Maximus, and He will favor Kaim, and you cannot hope to match up.”

“I appreciate your concern, Aunt Darantha,” I responded, more curtly than I would have liked. “I’ll hold my own just fine.” She had been there to witness my slaying of the Tinkerer’s Thing, my proof of dominance over my father and Kaim both. She couldn’t accept a truth she’d seen with her own eyes.

But my emotions still stung from my little spat earlier with Aster. For the first time in my life, I had displeased him—and a part of me wondered if I truly was still his favorite.

“Darantha’s right,” my father cut in, not wasting any opportunity to discourage me.

“You may think yourself prepared for the trials ahead; I imagine you are even quite proud of yourself. But it would be best for you to take your place in my retinue, as we had originally planned. There is no happy ending to this path you have chosen.”

“Not for you,” I said. “I’ll make one for myself.”

Darantha scoffed, “I said it years ago, Zander: it was a mistake to bring a commoner into the family. Who knows what she might have inherited from her mother? That filthy woman died in dirt, and now you bring her offspring—”

Something cracked, and she fell silent.

It took a moment to register that everyone was staring at me, and then another to realize that they were staring because I’d just dug my metal fingers into the table. I had been resting my hand along the edge of it and, somewhere among all the fighting and the insults, had simply lost control.

“And now she’s ruined the court’s furniture,” said Darantha.

I looked around the table. My father and Kaim were watching me intently, a bit of the Beast in their own dark expressions. Sevelie’s eyebrows had gone very high up on her forehead. Darantha looked ready to launch into another spiel about my shortcomings, and I for one was not ready to receive it.

I pushed my chair back and stood. “Please excuse me; I’ve lost my appetite.”

***

EVEN THOUGH I WANTED NOTHING MORE THAN TO ESCAPE, I knew that leaving the banquet hall so soon after entering would not go unnoticed.

I had no interest in explaining the reasons why I could not stand the rest of House Avera—especially as I hoped to gain the role of its leader in the near future. There was little choice but to stay.

I half-expected Aster to join me then, perhaps to offer a bit of comfort after such a display.

But even as I looked around expectantly, he did not appear.

My heart fell. He had said that he couldn’t—but what if he was simply still annoyed at my actions in the carriage and wanted to spite me by leaving me alone?

What would that mean for the ceremony ahead?

No , I told myself. It wouldn’t affect anything .

I flexed my metal fingers; I still had his blessing, and that would not change over a minor disagreement.

Trying not to wallow, I opted to wander around the rest of the banquet hall and discreetly familiarize myself with the other Pilgrims instead, whom I suspected I would be seeing in the umbral plane.

First, I drifted toward House Metia’s table, taking care to stay close enough to the walls to not draw attention to myself.

This was the House Darantha had come from, the House that favored Kaim as the next First Hand of the Beast. The House I had grown up under in Merey.

Though I had not met any of its members, my father had once described the important few to me.

I recognized the Grand Heavenseer: Carnus Metia, leader of House Metia.

His hair was long and silver with age, and both his eyes were milky.

He was the one currently in charge of overseeing the operation of the great glowing umbral gate above the city, making him one of the most important men alive in Kugara.

As if sensing my scrutiny, he turned his head to meet my gaze, or at least I assumed so, as it was difficult to tell.

An expression of scorn crossed his face briefly, making me frown.

Before I could do anything about it, he turned away.

At his side was a fair-haired, soft-cheeked youth—barely more than a boy—who I assumed was Lynel Metia.

At age sixteen he was the youngest of House Metia’s vessels but apparently was so gifted with his magecraft that Lord Carnus himself had taken him under his wing and granted him the opportunity to lead a retinue into the umbral plane.

Given the dangers that lay within, I knew that any Pilgrim younger than Kaim and myself had to be a force to be reckoned with—even if he looked harmless from a distance.

The last Pilgrim of House Metia was not seated at the table, but I found her nearby showing off a minor trick of light with her magecraft to a small group of lords and ladies.

I remembered her name but not much else; my father had said little about Agatha Metia, save that she was a loyal follower of Lord Carnus.

Dressed in customary Metia blue, she bore a passing resemblance to Darantha, if Darantha had a kinder face.

I wandered over, watching as she wowed the guests with the light sparkling between her fingers until the House Goldmercy table came into sight.

There I recognized Meister Hellen, who had provided for us her Thing at the trial in Avera.

The last time I saw her she had been collapsed on the ground, sobbing.

Now she was gray and sullen, her mouth tight, looking as though she would prefer to be anywhere else but at a party.

I supposed it was true what they said, that it took a bit of their souls each time a Meister bound themselves to their creations.

She must be thankful then that she was not one of the Pilgrims. There were to be two Goldmercy Meisters in this Pilgrimage: Olissa Goldmercy, the Mother Meister and leader of the House, and Iloise Goldmercy.

Their gray robes shimmered like morning mist under the crystal chandeliers.

Olissa Goldmercy was friends with my father, or so he had told me.

She was a matronly woman, with what would have been a pleasant face if her eyes hadn’t been so shrewd.

Her laugh sounded like bells, ringing clearly over the hall as she conversed with a group of nobility around her table.

A movement behind her caught my eye. A child, wearing an old-fashioned knight’s helmet, scurried up with a tray of delicacies. The noblemen turned to exclaim over the creature as it approached, like they were observing a dog doing tricks.

She had brought a Tinkerer’s Thing to the banquet; a small one, but a Thing nonetheless.

I shuddered, remembering the lovely, screaming face that had been hidden beneath the mass of talismans in the Avera temple.

This Thing was as docile as the other had been before the fighting began, standing still as guests bent down to examine it with curiosity.

Still uneasy, I drifted through the mingling guests toward the giant glass dome in the center of the hall.

A couple stood by it, looking down through the glass with equal parts excitement and apprehension.

The floor below was dimly lit, a few braziers flickering gently along the walls and reflecting off the polished marble tiles.

A shallow brass basin, about five feet across, sat unassumingly in the center of the large and otherwise empty space.

It was partway filled with water—and though it looked normal from a distance, I knew that the water had been taken from the umbral plane itself.

The couple nearby was in the midst of discussing it, and I could not help overhearing.

“Are they doing the demonstration soon?” said the gentleman to his friend.

“Not yet,” said his friend. “Not until after the meal is over. I’ve heard it gets quite gruesome.”

The demonstration. In all the chaos at my family’s table, I had almost forgotten about this part.

Before the ceremony of initiation began, the court would prove to all the lords and ladies in attendance that the water was indeed from the umbral plane.

A criminal would be brought in—one who had been given the choice of either undertaking this trial or meeting the chopping block.

In the event that he was found worthy, he would be free to go.

If found unworthy, then upon touching the umbral water, he would become infected with terrors—minor ones, most commonly umbral mind worms, but they would eat at him until one of the Church knights put him down.

They were never worthy.

Only after it had been proven to the masses that the water was in fact fatal to those not touched by a god, it would be our turn. We would do what the poor condemned man could not and reemerge baptized as Pilgrims.

“Excuse me, Lady Alma,” said someone behind me, drawing me from my pondering.

I turned and found myself face-to-face with Fion, his messy hair combed back from his face for once.

He smiled at me like an old friend and extended a hand. “I was hoping to ask you for a dance.”