Page 35

Chapter 35

ALARM DETONATES THROUGH ME LIKE a PHaSR grenade. Quick as a blink, the book that’s not a book is flying through the air, aimed at the intruder who just caught me. I dart for the Syphon Glass, just making out in my periphery that the fucker crashing my break-in is wearing a silver suit with an attached cape.

Shit.

Please don’t let that be who I think it is.

I focus on my immediate escape and refuse to let my thoughts circle the fact that I’m pretty sure King Noctis just caught me red-handed in his office. I have no idea where he came from or how he got in here. The door didn’t open and I didn’t sense any hidden access points, but I’ll have to freak out about that later. Right now, I need to run.

I’m steps from the Vitric Port when a wall of white flames surge up from the ground and block my way. A hiss rips out of me when my skidding stop isn’t fast enough to keep my forearm from brushing against the barricade of fire. Pain flashes up my arm, but I ignore it as I pivot and frantically search for another exit.

Like this is just another day in the office, King Noctis watches all of this while casually leaning against a wall by the entryway. He’s holding the census I chucked at him, and his face is surprisingly curious, not angry or outraged like I’d expect it to be. My eyes flit to a window opposite the both of us, but before I can even shift my weight in its direction, another wall of white flames cuts off my access.

Sweat and panic drip down the back of my neck when I realize I have no choice but to turn and face off against Kathal Noctis, King of Drameric.

Fuck.

All of the ways he could torture and then kill me flash quickly through my mind. I close my eyes for all of two seconds and slow my frenzied breathing. By the time I open my eyes, I’ve dropped my arm to my side, straightened my spine, and promised myself I won’t break no matter what.

“Are you done?” King Noctis asks evenly, a surprising hint of amusement lacing the question.

The burn on my elbow painfully thrums in time with my pounding pulse, and I use it to ground me. I steal one more hopeful glance around the dark room, but I’m well and truly trapped. I do notice that somehow the king’s fire hasn’t so much as scorched or wilted anything else in his office but me. I file that away to think about later, probably between the beatings and interrogations that are in my near future.

The king lifts a dark eyebrow. The gesture is expectant and it takes me a second to remember he asked me a question. One that continues to go unanswered as I just stand there—a phenomenon, I suspect, he’s unfamiliar with.

“I’d like to keep this conversation between us,” he tells me when it’s clear I have no intention of addressing what he asked me. “If you’re not amenable to that, I can call one of my Wing in here. Or, if you’d prefer, Aeson. If asked, either one will tie you to a chair so that we can talk. And we will talk. We have quite a few things that need to be sorted out before your Naming tomorrow.”

He looks toward the window, his gaze briefly studying the sliver of dawn that’s just starting to peek between the summits of Talon’s Reach.

“Correction, today ,” he amends. “I planned on meeting you tomorrow, but this works just as well.”

Puzzlement immediately permeates my panic. What is he talking about? Why would he want a conversation to stay between us? Am I supposed to add whatever he’s about to say to this list of things I won’t be confessing to mid-torture? I move closer to the king and further from his blistering walls of fire. My instincts flare with warning, but I flip them the bird. If I survive whatever this is, my intuition and I are going to have a serious heart-to-heart. My gut is supposed to be warning me about traps, not leading me straight fucking into them.

The flames behind me instantly die out, and I can’t help but longingly glance over at the Syphon Glass still hanging undisturbed on the wall.

“Don’t even think about it,” King Noctis warns. “I know how that mirror works. Even if you make it through, you’ll be surrounded by guards on the other side faster than you can say Vitric Port.”

My attention snaps back to the king, his words a sharp, sobering slap.

“How the fuck do you know what a Vitric Port is?” I demand, shock shoving the gravity of who I’m talking to completely out of my mind.

King Noctis smiles, and it’s unsettling and reassuring to see both Aeson and Lorn in it. He calmly ambles over to the bookshelf behind his desk and rehomes the digital census that lured me into this elaborate trap.

“When my son mentioned that you’d taken a mirror from the vaults, I wondered if you knew about the Ports. Your father pretended to collect all kinds of mirrors to help hide the special ones. Your decision could have been purely sentimental, but it made me curious.”

“Do Lorn and Aeson know about Syphon Glass?” I ask, wanting to know just how much I misjudged this situation.

Was the vault and the Crush a setup from the beginning?

Did the Noctis brothers play me…again?

Instead of answering me, Kathal Noctis nods in the direction of the sofa and chairs in his office. The gesture is a silent order to pick my poison and choose a seat.

The king’s gaze roves over my face when I once again don’t respond. “I am not your enemy, Ever Tenebrae. I suggest you endeavor to keep it that way.”

I debate for half a second whether or not I’m going to comply, but curiosity has me cooperating. I move to the chair Aeson occupied earlier, the one in front of a now dark fireplace, and I sit.

A sliver of a smile lifts one corner of the king’s mouth, like he’s amused by my choice for some reason. King Noctis selects the same sofa he sat on when I watched him and his sons earlier from the safety of my room. I’m getting the sense that this is some kind of test, one that doesn’t start or end with the Vitric Port I took from the vaults earlier, and that means not all is lost. I don’t know what King Noctis wants, but he most definitely wants something.

“No, to answer your question, my sons have no idea that Vitric Ports exist, let alone that there’s a network of them hanging in the keeps,” King Noctis tells me while he makes himself comfortable.

I file away his use of the word keeps and settle back in my chair, mirroring his easygoing posture even though I’m strung tighter than a mech bow.

“That’s quite the hole you’ve knowingly left in your defenses,” I blurt and then instantly want to punch myself for it.

Nice, Ever. Let’s provoke the asshole who just caught you rummaging through his office. While you’re at it, be sure to remind him that he should shatter all the escape routes you just discovered.

“It’s not a security concern when you think everyone capable of accessing the Ports is long dead,” King Noctis counters, and there’s a tinge of sorrow in the statement.

“And did you have anything to do with having my family and my people ambushed and murdered so you could take the throne?” I ask point-blank.

His eyes fill with an unfathomable amount of agony, but his features soften. “No, Ever,” he answers, his tone laden with emotion. “I could never have hurt your kindred. They were my kindred too in so many ways. The crown was the last thing I wanted, but I took up the mantle rather than see The Horde destroyed from infighting and mistrust. I wasn’t going to let everything your father worked for die with him.”

King Noctis runs a tired hand down his face, and for a moment, I see clearly the toll all of this has taken on him.

“I never wanted the throne, not for me or my boys,” he goes on. “I would trade this position and power in a heartbeat if I could have your father, Paloma, and your brothers back. I’ve done everything I could to honor my best friend’s memory. I’ve hunted those who betrayed him, brought them to justice, or so I thought until you told us there was more to all of this than we knew.”

His sorrow is palpable, genuine, and the authenticity of it undercuts everything I thought I knew about the king. I should feel relieved by Kathal Noctis’s heartache. My father’s love and trust wasn’t misplaced. And yet, all I can think is that I’m back to square one in my search for who’s responsible for all of this loss and pain. Up until now, the Noctises betraying the Tenebraes made the most sense. All the threads lined up perfectly.

But ever since I was brought here, the big picture isn’t revealing what I thought it would. Which means I’m once again nowhere close to figuring out what really happened that night. And for the first time, I’m starting to wonder if I ever will. If Kathal Noctis didn’t betray the Syphons…then who did? And if the King of The Dragon Horde isn’t my enemy…then what does that make him?

His gaze flits over my face, and the room grows quiet as he takes his time to survey me. I’m not sure how much he can make out in the dark, but it reminds me of the way Lorn and Aeson looked at me in Lairwood when I first told them who I was. I can tell he’s looking for my father in my features, and something about the earnestness in his search makes my chest ache.

“I promised your father I wouldn’t tell anyone who didn’t need to know about the Syphon Glass,” he explains, his fingers tracing abstract patterns over the arm of the sofa he’s leaning against. “I take my oaths seriously, even when I’m the only one left to do so.”

“So my father trusted you enough to tell you about his magic mirrors but not enough to tell you about me?” It’s a harsh question, maybe even a brutally unfair one, but I have to ask. My father seemed to entrust this male with so much, why not that too?

King Noctis doesn’t get upset. There isn’t even an ounce of defensiveness in his demeanor; he suddenly just looks really sad.

“I wish Merik had told me,” he murmurs, but I don’t know if the declaration is for me or him. “If I had known you existed, Ever, I would have stopped at nothing to protect you.”

Steely blue eyes meet mine, and I struggle not to squirm under the weight of a stare that feels far more paternal than I’m prepared for. I’m not sure what to make of that, so instead of analyzing it too closely, I rally my indignation.

I don’t want his sympathy, and I don’t want to feel sorry for his loss, not when my own is so overwhelming. I’ve spent so much time pitting myself against The Horde and everything that was taken from me, I don’t know what to make of these gray areas the Noctises are unveiling in my black-and-white world. I wasn’t prepared to have holes poked through my carefully curated anger, not when I can barely keep the underlying chasm of sadness at bay as it is.

King Noctis takes me in like he can see all of that written across my face. I realize with a start that he’s looking at me the same way he was looking at his sons, and it unsettles me more than anything else he’s done till now. There’s a compassion and care in his countenance, neither of which I’ve earned or know what to do with.

“I tried to get to your father. I was the first to make it to his rookery…to see what they’d done…” The king’s eyes leave mine, and his thoughts drift elsewhere while his words taper off.

He doesn’t need to say anything else; we both know what he saw. We both know what he found in my father’s tower. That truth drains some of my pique, and a weighted weariness trickles in instead. My shoulders sag and my gaze wanders to the surrounding bookshelves. The king wipes at the corner of one eye and collects himself as he clears his throat.

Watching him carefully tuck his anguish away so he can focus back on the matter at hand does something to me. I can’t count the number of times I’ve done the same over the years. And I realize, in this moment, that we both mourn my father. We both live with the horrors of his final hours. And we both grieve in stolen moments coiled between everything else that’s demanded of us. Loss has aligned us and it’s also driven us apart.

“Who were you hoping to find in my census records?” King Noctis asks after a long stretch of silence.

With admirable finesse, he circles back to the unanswered question he first lobbed my way. He holds up a hand, like he’s already anticipating the lie I’m working to string together.

“Think carefully on what you’re about to tell your king, Ever Tenebrae. Like I said before, I’m not your enemy. Not unless you put me in a position where I have no choice but to become exactly that.”

“I haven’t sworn fealty to you,” I counter, but he waves it off like it’s a trivial detail.

I study him, and he patiently returns my silent scrutiny. I swiftly flick through everything I heard him talk about with Aeson and Lorn. I could approach the king’s question from a lot of angles that are technically true, but which one is going to get me closer to what I want, to what I’m here to find?

My heart hammers hard against my breastbone. I can’t tell if it’s urging me on or begging me not to do what I’m about to.

“I’m looking for members of the Relacour bloodline,” I finally answer after a prolonged, weighted moment.

I can tell instantly that my answer has surprised the king. He sits up a little straighter, and a budding shrewdness blooms in his gaze.

“And why would that bloodline interest you?” he asks, the question a perfect balance of polite interest and nonchalance.

If I didn’t already know what I do about sorcai and the Relacour line, I wouldn’t find anything amiss in what he’s asking me…lucky for me, I do. I loose a measured and calculated sigh and relax deeper into my chair.

“I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what happened the night of the rebellion. I’ve combed through every report I could find. I’ve examined every account on record of that night. And I noticed something. A lot of the sorcai involved in the rebellion were Blood Crafters. More specifically, Relacour Blood Crafters. There were other sorcai that participated, but when I looked into who, I realized that a startling number of them descended from branches of the Relacour line too.”

I purposefully fidget in my chair and then thread my fingers together to look like I’m trying to stop my nerves from peeking through. King Noctis’s gaze tracks the show I’m putting on, but he doesn’t say anything as he waits for me to continue.

“It’s a connection that means something. I can’t say exactly what, but I suspect Blood Crafters, or more specifically Relacour Blood Crafters, were involved in the curse that kept the Syphons from shifting the night they were killed. That means they know why, to this day, I still can’t reveal. I want to ask them, but the sorcai involved in the rebellion are all dead. And when it comes to the other Blood Crafter lines, most of them have been wiped out or they’re in hiding for fear of being wiped out, like I was. If I could just talk to one of them though, I might be able to figure out how to reverse what they did. That’s who I’m looking for. That’s who I’m trying to find.”

I watch the king carefully as he processes what I just said. Every word is true, or true enough to pass muster. He doesn’t need to know that I’ve personally hunted enough Relacours and Relacour relatives to confirm that my theory is correct. The Syphons know that particular line of Blood Crafters is to blame for our broken natures. For the longest time, we thought we had to track down those who initially invoked the curse in order to break it, but thanks to a particularly whiny and motivated relative that I interrogated and then killed, we know there’s a loophole when it comes to blood magic.

“If anyone can help me, it will be their Matron.” Their Conduit , I finish, but only to myself. If the king knows what that is, it’s not in my best interest to tell him that I know too. And if he isn’t in the loop, that’s not my problem either. “Blood magic trapped my dragon, which means blood magic is the way to release it.”

I sit back and give him time to consider what I’ve revealed. Silence stretches between us long enough for the shadows in the room to shift. An unseasoned liar would fight the need to fill the pervasive quiet, but I’m not some wet-behind-the-ears greenling. I know the king is searching for anything that might indicate deception or hint that there’s more to the story.

There is…there always is. A wise person knows that. But is King Noctis wise? Will he take a leap of faith on behalf of his friend and former king? Will he help me? Or have I misjudged this situation like I have so many times with his sons?

The king’s body language and any hint of what he might be thinking is locked down tight. It’s an impressive and intimidating poker face, probably the best I’ve ever seen, which makes sense. As the king, I imagine he’s had plenty of practice mastering every tic, blink, and breath.

“What you’re saying has merit. I’d probably draw the same conclusions that you have…”

I sense a definitive but trailing those words, and the flash of relief that just flickered through me morphs into misgiving.

“You’re right, Blood Crafters are a difficult ilk to track down, and for good reason. Reasons I’m not keen to ignore or supersede…not for just anyone , that is.”

My brow furrows as I try to pick through the word salad he just tried to serve me. The king drops his ankle from his knee and once again leans back in his seat. It’s his power position, one that’s easy to recognize because he used it on Aeson and Lorn. And with that, I realize I’ve just entered a negotiation, only I’ve been left in the dark as to what the terms are.

“Oookaaay,” I hedge, warily studying the king. “And who would you ignore those valid reasons for?”

An impressed twinkle enters his blue gaze. His shrug is insouciant, but his smile is predatory. “My sons. I’d do almost anything for them. And of course, that same trusted consideration would be given to their…mates.”

My breath stalls and the wasps in my stomach fully defrost and begin to buzz with a renewed fury.

Is he serious right now? Is he really trying to leverage my fucked-up curse with an arranged mating?

King Noctis stares at me, a look in his eyes that totes victory. My answering glare is fulminating, but I manage to keep my tone even. I cant my head in consideration.

“I did hear something about an interest in aligning with me because of…what was it?” I ask absently as I tap my chin. “Oh, that’s right, political influence.” I shake my head disapprovingly. “I would think a loving father, such as yourself, would want more than just that for their son.”

King Noctis chuckles. “Of course I want more for him than just that. I want his happiness above all else. And if you think Aeson’s interest in you starts and stops with the political advantages, then you haven’t been paying attention to what’s been happening around you like you should,” he tells me cryptically.

What the fuck does that mean?

I haven’t been paying attention?

All I do is pay attention. I overanalyze every- fucking -thing, and then I plot and plan accordingly. I heard them with my own cursed ears talking about my influence and how important it was that I accept Aeson. So what in the bloody stars does he think I missed when it comes to his son and this situation ?

I rub my temples, the long day finally starting to catch up with me in the form of an oncoming headache and the disappearance of the last vestiges of my patience.

“Let me get this straight,” I snap. “If I agree to mate your son, you’ll help me track down the Relacour Matron and break my curse? Do I have that right?”

The king straightens like he knows he has me up against the ropes and he’s ready to deliver the final blow.

“Close, but not exactly. I will arrange a meeting with Matron Relacour, but I can’t guarantee that she will break the curse. In exchange, you’ll agree to mate Aeson, regardless of the outcome of your meeting or whether your curse is broken or not.”

I reel back at that, my face scrunching with confusion. “But if I can’t reveal, if I’m not a full dragon, I can’t bond. The mating would be incomplete…it would be deficient from the very start,” I argue.

He doesn’t look concerned in the slightest by anything I just said. It’s almost like he knows something I don’t. While really fucking frustrating, that isn’t exactly surprising. I wasn’t raised by dragons, so what I don’t know about my own kind can probably rival the grains of sand in the deadlands.

King Noctis offers me a warm smile that only serves to deepen my glower. “That’s my offer. Take it or leave it.”

“I want time to think about this,” I counter.

“That’s fine with me,” he surprisingly agrees, and then he suddenly rises from the sofa.

I scramble to stand too, bewildered as to what’s going on.

Is that it?

Am I headed back to the warren of dungeons now?

“You should get some rest. Your Naming is going to be here before we know it,” he announces with a nod as he gestures toward the mirror. “Are you okay to get back the way you came?”

My head snaps between the king and the Port. “Wait. I can go? Just like that?”

The king’s warm laugh fills the room. “Of course. I did tell you that I preferred to keep this visit between us,” he reminds me, and that statement triggers all the same alarms that it did the first time I heard it.

I open my mouth to argue, to demand answers, but then it dawns on me that he’s actually letting me go. And from the sound of things, he’s prepared to continue to honor his vow to my father about the Syphon Glass and keep it secret. I have no idea why, but I’m also not stupid enough to not take advantage of it.

I warily move closer to the Syphon Glass.

“Oh, and Ever…” he calls when I’m about to climb up on the cabinet. “If you try to break into my tower again, it will be the last thing you ever do. I don’t care whose daughter you are or what you mean to my son. Are we clear?” All the warmth and humor has evaporated from his face, and for the first time since I laid eyes on the king, I feel the full weight of his station and immeasurable power.

The hairs on my body stand up in warning. My swallow is audible, and my nod is jerky. “Got it,” I chirp.

“You have until your Naming tonight to give me an answer. That should be plenty of time for you to think things through.”

With that, King Noctis strides out of his office. He doesn’t give me a chance to answer. He doesn’t look back as he goes. He simply walks out, the door to his office closing quietly behind him, and I’m left standing by the cabinet utterly gobsmacked.

I waste no time hurrying back through the Syphon Glass to my room. To my surprise, everything is exactly as I left it. Aeson and his Wing aren’t waiting for me. No one comes stomping out of the dark with an accusatory shout and declaration of betrayal. The room is quiet and the shadows painted across everything are starting to fade as night gives way to morning.

It should make me breathe easier, help me to relax, but there isn’t any part of me that feels relieved.

I broke into the king’s office certain I would find answers. Instead, I only found more questions. Now, I have to figure out what I’m going to do.

Strike a bargain with a king? Or bet on myself?

Both are a gamble. Neither is a sure thing. And the stakes couldn’t be higher.