Page 45

CHAPTER

FORTY-FOUR

Oralia

I stared at the back of Mecrucio’s head as I was dragged through the castle.

Aelestor’s body had been left on the library floor, blood soaking into the white rug, but I knew in my heart he had left this world, felt it as I had spoken the words. Even now, his magic had returned to the earth to begin again, as gods had no need to stop on the shores of Infernis. I tried not to think of Josette and the way losing Aelestor would tear her apart.

He had only wanted to protect me—had died to protect me. I would not let his death be in vain.

White-hot agony seared through my limbs with each step. I’d given up on fighting the soldiers, not with my magic drained. Even now, spidery black webs fanned out across my skin around where the bolts lodged within my arms and legs. Flashes of gold made my head spin as I was marched through the halls and up a flight of steps, each bounce of the metal in my limbs another crackle of agony.

This was what Ren had endured. I could not stop reminding myself of it. And, somehow, it was right that I experienced this agony too—that in this we would be connected.

So I stared at the back of Mecrucio’s skull as if I might be able to burrow into his brain and find the answers there. The question was there on the tip of my tongue: why? And yet I did not think he deserved to voice his reasons, to make his case, no matter how feeble it might be. He would die for this.

I would see to it personally.

The doors to the throne room slid open at our approach. It was Mecrucio who glided in first and fell to his knees before the gilded throne where Typhon sat with a cruel smile on his face. Every soldier around me fell to a knee until I, alone, stood before him.

“The prodigal daughter returns,” Typhon boomed, wings flaring as he shifted to rest his elbow on the arm of the throne.

I lifted my chin but did not speak, only savored each drop of my blood onto the floor, a dark mar against the sickening splendor around me. But Typhon did not appear to mind my silence as he nodded at Mecrucio.

“Well done, son,” he murmured.

Son… I blinked, looking between them. Was it merely a term of affection between the two? There were no similarities there, save perhaps the bronze threads through his brown hair. But Mecrucio was gazing up at Typhon as a human might look at us, with reverence which bordered on obsession. A flush crept up his throat until his cheeks were bright red, and I was surprised he did not fall forward to kiss the Golden King’s feet.

I could remember a time in which I had done such a thing, though it had always been in relief and not reverence. Relief that my punishment had not been so painful, or his retribution not so severe. And Mecrucio had been present so many times as I’d been pinned to this floor by countless healers, as I’d screamed for mercy as they’d tried to banish the dark magic from my heart.

Now I was sure those hours of torture were merely a means of torture for Typhon to avenge his cuckolding while trying to take the power he so desperately craved from the child his wife and her lover had created.

Typhon rose to his feet, and the soldiers who had hold of my chains jerked until my knees fell to the floor with a familiar crack . With each step he took, my magic struggled against the kratus resin until flares of shadows appeared around my chest and arms. Gold eyebrows ticked up as he observed, a greedy grin twisting his features.

“Just as I had hoped,” he mused. “You have returned to me stronger than ever before.”

“Ren has been restored,” I gritted through my teeth.

White wings flared with his shrug. “It was a sacrifice I was willing to make to ensure you would find your way home. The moment you stepped into the Western Reaches, I was alerted to your presence. Why do you think those men only ever slipped through his borders while you were gone?”

I did not answer as he circled me and my captors slowly.

“It is easy enough to sense when you have left Infernis, as powerful as the connection between you and my brother is. Mecrucio here informed me himself each time after happening upon you leaving.”

“He was the one who guided them through,” I murmured.

There was no rip in the mist, no weakness in our defense, save for placing our trust in a god who did not deserve it.

“Do you not wish to know why?” Typhon mused, looking between us.

Mecrucio’s back was to me as if he feared looking at my face.

“Not particularly,” I answered, fighting back a groan as one of the soldiers jerked on the chain attached to my right shoulder.

A laugh rumbled across my skin, and my stomach turned at how close Typhon was now. I could scent the sunlight on him, his strange magic, and my fingers itched to reach out and destroy. He brushed back my hair, and my lids automatically squeezed shut, muscles tensing out of habit as I braced myself for his wrath.

“I am to be the new king of Infernis,” Mecrucio announced, pride dripping from each word while he turned on his heel toward me.

I couldn’t help it. I laughed. I laughed until my hands were splayed across the marble floor and tears mixed with the blood. I laughed until Typhon snapped at his guards, who pulled the chains taut, wrenching me back upright.

Every god had a price, and it was clear Typhon had found Mecrucio’s. But I did not think for a second he would actually get his wish. No, Mecrucio was merely another pawn, another piece on the board.

“You laugh at your new king?” he all but growled.

“I laugh at your stupidity,” I countered. “For believing a man who lies more than he tells the truth.”

The God of Thieves rushed at me, grabbing my hair to jerk my head back. “You speak of what you do not understand. He has sworn an oath that I will take the throne.”

Nodding, I could not help the maniacal smile tugging at my cheeks. “Ah, an oath.”

The Golden King flexed his hand, the ruby of his father’s ring dancing in the light. “All I need is your magic before it descends to the earth.”

I hummed my understanding. “And you would give this volatile power to another? You would allow another to rule in your stead?”

Mecrucio’s hand tightened in my hair. “He would.”

But Typhon hesitated a beat too long before he answered. “Of course. Mecrucio is to be my heir within Infernis. He is perfectly suited for the task, all will follow him.”

“And why would they follow him, follow you?”

He gestured, and in an instant, I was dragged across the floor toward the throne room doors.

“Because I will bring you to their doorstep and slit your throat for all to see. One rules by fear more effectively than they ever would through love.”

* * *

I stood on the bank of the river, staring across the shallow water to the shores of Infernis, dread trickling through my veins.

The mist was heavy around my shoulders, invisible hands wiped at the tears falling from my eyes unbidden. Pain was only a distant memory now as Mecrucio guided the first battalion of soldiers across the ankle high water. Then the next. More and more followed until most of Aethera’s army crossed over the border of my kingdom.

“Come, Lia,” Typhon crooned, wrapping an arm around my waist and careful of my chains. “Take me across.”

I dug my feet into the slippery rocks, thrashing in his hold, and yet I was dragged along like a puppet on a string. The water did not rise to wash us away, water shepherds did not crawl from the depths to drag us under—because I guided them, however unwillingly. We stepped onto the shore of Infernis, and I grit my teeth against the sob lodged in my throat.

“Forward,” Typhon commanded, gesturing with the flat of his hand.

Like a flock of birds, they all moved as one toward the castle in the distance, toward my home. I could barely see the lookouts Thorne had erected to watch the river and the soldiers there. All I could feel was the same tugging in my chest and the grief I carried with me of Aelestor’s death. The knowledge that soon, I would bring more destruction to this world.

Perhaps it was for the best, for this world to be ripped in two.

Heavy feet crunched over the dead earth, the golden armor of Aethera glinting in the weak sunlight filtering through the mist. Typhon smiled with satisfaction each time he caught my eye, all but dragging me on his hip like a child. And though my hand slapped over his again and again, my magic had faded until I wondered if, like this, I could truly die.

But as we approached, it was not to see the silent green grasses I’d grown, dotted with asphodel flowers. Typhon’s army was greeted by a sea of soldiers, outfitted in deep black armor. And there, toward the center, I picked out Caston and his battalion dressed in the same black, faces half obscured with black curved visors.

Thorne headed the vanguard and never had the God of Healing appeared so threatening than at this moment clad in black, only the bright green of his eyes visible beneath the helm. But it was him. I could sense it as he spotted Mecrucio. Beside Thorne, Dimitri and Drystan wore similar expressions of shock, their attention flicking from Typhon to Mecrucio and back again. But Sidero was the only one who saw me, their face paling until for once they truly looked dead. Their lips formed my name, but it was lost in a roar of outrage.

“ Traitor!” Thorne boomed, slamming his staff down on the ground. The world shook around us as if the earth might crack in half.

The soldiers of my kingdom answered the call, hitting their swords against their shields until my ears rang. Color drained from Mecrucio’s cheeks and he took a step back, but Typhon prodded him to the side.

“I am here to take what is mine,” Typhon announced over the din, stepping forward as if he were merely at a banquet.

“And how will you take it, Golden King?” Thorne called. “You have no power here.”

“No, I do not. But she does.” Typhon gestured with an open palm, and at once, I was jerked forward, dragging on my knees beside him.

I bit my tongue to hide my cry of pain, but it would have been lost beneath the cry of outrage from my people. As one, they crouched into a fighting stance, shields raised and swords ready. I met Thorne’s gaze, noting the kratus staff in his hand, then searched the crowd for the timeless gods, but found none.

Had they turned tail and run when Ren did not resurrect?

“A new light dawns upon Infernis,” Typhon boomed, raising his short sword high. “And it begins with the death of your queen.”

An arrow flew through the air, slicing cleanly through Typhon’s upheld wrist. He screamed, the sword falling at his feet. I turned, jerked myself from his other hand, and fell to the grass. His cry echoed off the mountains as blood poured down his palm, and he wrenched the kratus arrow from his flesh.

The Aetheran army attacked. More arrows flew, black mixing with gold, and as one, shields rose, protecting those in their path. The soldiers holding my chains converged behind me until my arms were tightly bound behind my back, and I could only look on in horror as gold surged forward to meet black. The clang of metal filled the air and I blinked.

This was the scene I had witnessed when Petra touched my face—this moment here, the clash of living against soul, the cries of those who might be killed as a sword found its home. Chaos broke out around us until my captors dragged me backward, Typhon at my side. I twisted, refusing to give in to the agony as I tried fruitlessly to be freed.

Screams, cries. Far off a burst of flame flooded a quadrant of the field and, in its center, Zayne stood with his hands outstretched. The calm and peaceful expression I’d known had burned away into something as murderous as the flames itself. They rippled, great beasts of flames leaping into the sky to dive down upon gilded soldiers, but the heat did not touch our own.

Yet in horror, I watched a soul while they were pierced through the heart with a gilded sword, the tip blackened by kratus resin. And as they fell, their body evaporated like the mist curling through the fields. I might have screamed—I opened my mouth but no sound came out. Not as another chain wrapped around my throat, as blood pooled at my feet and my magic seeped back into the world.

Souls everywhere fell, and I could not tell who was winning. But I turned from the carnage toward the god who had raised me, rearing back with all my strength and snapping my teeth. Typhon only laughed, shaking his head before he pinched my chin between two fingers.

“No better than a common dog,” he tutted.

I blinked when a haze filtered over my eyes. But as I tried to clear my vision, I realized it wasn’t a haze at all, but the mist deepening. A shadow fell over us, so dark it might have been night. There was a cry, but whether it was fear or elation I could not tell, not when the tip of a blade was pressed into my cheek, slicing slowly through my flesh until blood ran down my throat.

A boom echoed through the clearing. A few of the soldiers holding my chains jerked in surprise and wrenched me backward. We twisted toward the noise, toward the looming shadow rising from the ground.

Night-black wings stretched wide encompassing the world itself. Power dripped from the silver talons of his wings to the sharp planes of pale cheekbones. Fingers rose, but they were tipped in black now as Talron’s were, drawing a curved axe from its sheath, and those dark blue eyes I knew as well as my own fixed upon Typhon.

A deadly smile curved Ren’s mouth.

“All that begins must end.”