Page 24

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

C ael used a fire opal to journey to the church ruins in southeastern Brachos, just across the border from the Desolation, where Tristan had asked to meet today.

Cael had been on the brink of sleep last night when Tristan’s message floated into his ear. He hadn’t expected to hear from his friend again. Especially not after he had ignored all Tristan’s previous windwhispers.

This was Cael’s last stop of a very long day, as he’d spent most of his morning and afternoon meeting with prospective buyers.

Such a fucking joke of a job.

Visions of his soporific future unspooled daily: aimless meetings followed by his father’s tirades followed by Elodie’s inane prattling.

He wanted to escape more than he ever had. He’d leave tomorrow if Xenia didn’t still have that fucking tracking device in her neck.

They’d made little progress over the past few days and therefore, he’d been in a foul mood this morning when he’d sifted through the new business inquiries. Though his mood had boosted slightly when he’d found another affirmation on his breakfast tray.

I am in control of my happiness and my destiny. Say it at least three times today, pterodactyl. Believe it.

He’d chuckled into his coffee as he’d read it. Again, the words were complete and utter bullshit. Cael had never felt less in control of his destiny. But he’d dutifully said the phrase when he left the estate and at the end of each waste-of-time meeting.

Said it again as he’d arrived in this abandoned stone ruin on the outskirts of nowhere.

Though he was looking forward to seeing his friend again, he wanted this meeting finished as quickly as possible so he could return to Stoneridge.

The thought of leaving Xenia there alone had his anxiety rising. Especially after Tomas had nearly made her his midnight snack the other night.

Before Cael had left this morning, he’d seriously considered asking Erik to watch over her. But the thought of confirming Xenia’s importance to him, even to his younger brother, seemed too dangerous.

Cael’s anxious thoughts were interrupted when a shimmery portal appeared in the center of the crumbling nave and two Fae stepped through it.

One, Cael didn’t recognize, but the second…

Cael was shocked into stillness at the sight of Tristan, whose face broke into a broad grin as he swallowed Cael in a bone-crunching hug.

“Long way to travel over a few missed windwhispers,” Cael croaked out, Tristan’s vise-like grip squeezing his lungs. “You’re not in the colonies.”

“Neither are you,” Tristan answered, pounding his friend on the back before pulling away, his face falling as it landed on Cael’s sole wing. “What happened to your?—”

“I’ll tell you later. In private.” Cael flicked his gaze to the other Fae male watching their reunion, then back to Tristan. “What are you doing here? Where’s Cassandra?”

A devastated grimace stole across Tristan’s face before he turned to the male behind him. “Business first. This is General Felix Tanius.” The male flared his feathered wings in greeting, kicking up a cloud of dust. “An associate of mine with the Teles Chrysos.”

Cael’s brows rose. He’d heard the name of the rebel group who were weaving their influence throughout the continent. Had even heard about the few deals they’d made with Arran these past months, the money they’d paid his father for information about weapons shipments to the Empire. He’d overheard a conversation between Arran and Viktor regarding a shipment of missiles heading through the Staurien Pass yesterday that the rebels were supposed to intercept.

Based on the timing of this meeting and General Tanius’s pinched face, Cael suspected the interception had not gone as planned.

He hoped they weren’t about to ask Cael to convince his father to refund the drachas they’d paid for the intel. No fucking way would Arran agree to that.

Tanius stepped forward to clasp Cael’s hand. “Master Zeph?—”

“Just Cael is fine.”

“Cael.” Tanius nodded. “Thank you for meeting with us.” His gaze bobbed between the two friends. “You served in the colonies together, that right? I thought you had to be able to fly to be a Vestian guard?”

“It’s a recent loss,” Cael said, baring his teeth. “What can I do for you both? Did something happen with the shipment?”

“You haven’t heard?” Tristan asked.

Cael shook his head.

“They knew we were coming.” Tristan dragged a hand along the back of his neck.

“Yes, someone must have informed the Emperor of our plans,” Tanius said, side-eying Tristan.

Surely the male didn’t think Tristan had given his brother that information.

Tristan ignored the look as he continued, “Hundreds of Imperial soldiers arrived to greet us. We held them off as long as we could, but they blew up the train. Chose to destroy those missiles rather than let them fall into our hands. Which, obviously, puts a damper on our plans to?—”

Tanius grabbed Tristan’s forearm, hissing. “Do not tell him anything. He’s not a member of our movement.”

Tristan’s face hardened, and he reached down to pluck Tanius’s fingers from his forearm, his voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. “First, do not ever touch me again without permission. Second—and you’ve been warned about this—you will treat me with the respect I am due as your future Emperor. Third, I would trust Cael with my life . With our Delphine’s life. We would be lucky to have him in our movement, were he inclined to join us.” He stepped closer to Tanius and flared his wings in a show of dominance. “If you’d like to question my judgment again—which is your right, of course—you will do so in private. Otherwise, I’ll have you stripped of your leadership and you can join the rank and file. Is that clear?”

The air in the dusty church shifted and a spear of sunlight illuminated Tristan’s blue-black feathers. Tanius took to his knees.

Fuck, Cael almost felt like he should do the same.

Tristan coming into his heritage, his authority—it was a mighty thing to behold.

“My apologies, Your Highness,” Tanius said, sweeping his wings down his back in submission. “It won’t happen again.”

Tristan flicked his fingers, signaling for the male to rise.

“So,” Cael began, trying to cut through some of the tension, “if this meeting isn’t about the shipment, what’s it about?”

Tristan placed his hand on Cael’s shoulder. “How aligned are you with your father?”

“He’s…” Cael schooled his features into neutrality. “My duty is to my family. To Brachos. And to my father, Arran.” He didn’t dare reveal his true feelings. Not in front of Tanius. And anyways, everything he’d said was true. For now at least. For as long as Xenia was his father’s captive.

“Could you be persuaded to do something for us under his nose?” Tristan asked.

“What kind of something?”

“Arran has another weapon. A much more powerful one. One that could mean the difference between the Teles Chrysos’s success or failure.”

Cael remained silent as Tristan gave him an expectant look.

Then opened his mouth and dropped his bomb.

“The dragon of Typhon Mountain.”

Perched on a rickety pew, Cael pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to will away the headache caused by everything Tristan and Tanius had just asked of him.

Tristan had sent the general outside to wait, requesting a private word with his friend.

Tristan crossed an arm over his chest, scratching his biceps. “Well. Will you do it?”

“I don’t even…” Cael raked a hand through his short waves. “I’ve never even seen the dragon. I have no idea how my father’s been able to control it all these years. Or how he was able to make it obey him during the war.”

“This was part of it.” Tristan pulled a silver chain from underneath his shirt. Dangling from the end was a small object thinner than a pinky finger and crafted of fire opal.

“What is that?” Cael asked.

“A relic of the Fallen Goddess that my father gave to your father. Claimed it could be used to call forth ancient monsters who watched over this world millennia ago. The Teles Chrysos believe he used it to summon the dragon.”

Cael’s brows furrowed. “How did the Teles Chrysos acquire it? I find it very difficult to believe my father would have lost or given away such a powerful object.”

“Could be because it doesn’t work,” Tristan said. “The rebels have played it many times over the centuries, all to no avail. There’s got to be another piece of the puzzle we’re missing. We thought maybe there’d be some information up at Stoneridge. Documents or details that Arran’s kept from when he captured the creature.”

Cael shot his friend a pained look. “If this task only endangered me, you know I would do it for you in a heartbeat, Tristan. But I’ve got more than just myself to consider right now.” Whatever Tristan heard in Cael’s tone inspired him to crouch down and place a hand upon his friend’s knee. “Xenia was gifted to my father. She’s his property now. A member of the human staff at Stoneridge.”

Tristan sucked in a sharp breath. “ What ? I thought she’d returned to the colonies.”

“She was supposed to,” Cael growled. “Brash little fool decided to take her chances on the continent instead. She was trying to get back to me. Ended up getting captured by a trafficker in Rhamnos who sold her to my fiancée’s father as a wedding gift for our family.”

“You’re getting married?” Tristan said, taken aback.

“Not if I can help it. Arran placed a tracking device in Xenia’s neck. She can’t leave the estate or remove it without it exploding. I need to find a way to get it out of her before I say my vows in a few weeks.”

“Why was she trying to get back to you? Did something happen between you two?”

“She’s everything I’m not supposed to want.” Cael exhaled a long sigh. “And everything I’ve ever needed.”

Tristan closed his eyes. “I know the feeling.”

“I will not leave her there alone with him. If we’re not able to remove the device, I’ll marry Elodie and convince her to stay at Stoneridge so I can watch over Zee. Protect her from my father and brothers.”

“And never have a chance at true happiness with her?”

“What the fuck else am I supposed to do?” Cael roared.

“There may be a way we can help. Trophonios is a leader of our movement. If you can get a sample device for him to study, he may be able to figure out how to deactivate it.”

Cael’s hope soared, even as shock stole through him. “ Trophonios is aligned with the Teles Chrysos?”

“Not just aligned. He’s practically the founder of this modern incarnation. Started reviving the movement just after the war. The things he’s been able to accomplish… Do you remember the elemental lightning magic Maksym possessed?”

“Hard thing to forget,” Cael said, the color draining from his features. “He took my wing.”

“ Fuck ,” Tristan breathed out. “Why didn’t you tell me, Cael? I’m so?—”

“It’s fine,” Cael said flatly. “I’m…dealing with it.”

I am in control of my happiness and my destiny.

Tristan cocked a skeptical eyebrow, but didn’t push.

“And I made him pay for it.” Cael rustled his sole wing, remembering how good it had felt to slice that Typhon broadsword through Maksym’s matte green wings as the fucker begged for mercy. At least, it had felt good in the moment. “What about his lightning magic?”

“The Teles Chrysos have discovered a way to bestow it upon Fae with human heritage. The Anointed, they’re called. A blessing from the Creator herself.”

“You worship the Creator now?”

Tristan darted his eyes to the open door of the chapel, ensuring that General Tanius wasn’t eavesdropping on their conversation. “I don’t fucking know. The things I’ve seen these past weeks, they’re certainly enough to make me question my faith in the High Gods, but… I don’t know.”

There was a weariness in Tristan’s words, along with profound grief.

Cael stood, and Tristan crumpled, resting his forehead on Cael’s shoulder as he spilled the story of Cassandra’s arrest, Ione’s reappearance, and his subsequent escape from Eamon. Plus, the rebellion’s ultimate goal: return the Crystal Throne to Tristan.

Cael tried not to let his confusion show as he awkwardly patted Tristan’s back. “And that’s…a bad thing?”

Tristan lifted his head, jaw tightening. “No. No, of course not. It’s everything I’ve wanted since I was exiled, but… What does it matter if Cassandra dies behind those wards? If I can’t save her?”

Once upon a time, and not that long ago, Cael might have scoffed at his friend’s romantic melodramatics. Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on which day, which hour he was considering it—Cael understood now. All too well.

“She’s strong, Tristan. She’s a fighter . It will take a lot more than Tartarus to bring her down.”

“I hope you’re right. Anyway, placing me on the throne isn’t all Ione wants. She also wants me . Believes we’re fated by Adelphinae. Believes she’s destined to be my Empress.”

“And what do you believe?”

“I…” Tristan hesitated. “I’m not going to forsake Cassandra. And certainly not based on hearsay. Ione and I are heading to Delos tomorrow to retrieve the Compendium. I’m hoping it will offer some clarity. On many things.”

Cael nodded thoughtfully, then jutted his chin toward the door. “What’s with General Douchebag?”

Tristan snorted. “Can’t tell yet. Fae dominance thing, maybe. I think he and Ione might’ve been together before she… Doesn’t fucking matter. He’s the least of my concerns.” Tristan gripped Cael’s forearm. “Will you help me, Cael? I need people I can trust, and they’re in really short supply at the moment.”

Tristan gave Cael that piteous, wide-eyed look that always worked to get what he wanted.

“Frenzied fucking Dienses, the future Emperor of Ethyrios is giving me puppy-dog eyes,” Cael groaned.

Tristan smirked. “Still can’t resist me, can you?” Cael rolled his eyes. “Or maybe it’s not working because you’ve finally moved on and are mooning over someone else.”

Cael crossed his arms and glared. “You have no fucking idea, Saros. No fucking idea. Or should I call you Erabis now?”

Tristan grimaced. “Not sure I love either option, but let’s go with Erabis for the time being. I’ll meet you back here after I return from Delos. Bring a tracking device and I’ll give it to Trophonios. You can give me an update on the dragon then, too. Get Xenia to help. She’s much better than you at research, if I recall.”

Tristan handed him the flute, then gathered him into another fierce hug. Something glinted on his wrist. “Actually, here.” He handed Cael a delicate silver cuff embedded with two gems: a small purple gem of mentrite and a speck of fire opal. “Give this to her. Girls love when you bring them presents. She might be so grateful, she’ll get down on her knees and?—”

Cael snatched the cuff with an annoyed look. “It’s not like that between us.”

“Yet?” Tristan cocked an eyebrow.

Cael ignored him, examining the delicate silver. “What’s it do?”

“It’s like a commstone. She’ll be able to receive your windwhispers. And send them back to you in return.”

“How will that work? She doesn’t have any internal magic.”

“Works even on those without it. The silver increases the stones’ power. Plus, she’ll be able to use the opal to travel anywhere she wants.”

“Anywhere within the estate,” Cael grumbled. “But thank you. This…this actually will be helpful.”

Tristan nodded, then headed for the exit. “Take care of yourself, Cael. And take care of Xenia, too.” His expression was pained as he turned back. “Don’t spend too long waiting for your yet . You have no idea how much time you’ll have with her.”

Cael looked down at the cuff. Fucking Stygios, Tristan always knew how to cut right to the core of Cael’s issues. “See you in a few days, big boy.”

Tristan winked. “Count on it.”

He left the church, and Cael overheard the rumblings of a tense conversation between him and the general. Mutterings about why Tristan had given Cael the cuff. They must have worked it out, because no one came back in to take it from him.

Cael sighed, glancing toward the altar where a statue of Nemosyna, the human Goddess of Memory, stood. The Goddess’s face was eroded—by time, by neglect. By indifference. By all those cosmic forces against which memory ceaselessly battled.

And in the battle between his father and Tristan, choosing a side was no choice at all. Cael would follow his friend to the edge of the universe and back.

As soon as he figured out a way to bring Xenia with him.