Chapter 28

Dravyn

The sound of a distant door opening vaulted me from my restless, reluctant attempt at sleep.

I sat at the desk in my usual study. Rieta had badgered me for hours about going to my bed, but I hadn't been able to bring myself to lie in it alone.

So instead, I'd tried to find things to distract myself with in here. And at some point, I must have laid my head on the desk and drifted off, clutching the thick book that was still in my hand.

Several of the tome's yellowed pages were marked by scraps of parchment—yet I didn't remember what I'd been looking for. The hours were running together, each darker and more pointless than the last.

What did it matter what else I was looking for when Karys was still nowhere to be found?

My shoulder throbbed dully. The Healing God's magic had driven out the poison, but a mark remained, similar to a bruise made up of various, sickly shades of grey. It spilled around to the center of my back, and it had not faded in the slightest, even as the hours passed. Weakness lingered in that shoulder as well.

The longer Karys and I spent apart, the more noticeable the weakness was becoming, as per usual—and the fatigue was not limited only to my latest injury. It was spreading to every part of me.

I did not regret giving her so much of my magic—I would never regret it—but the complications were compounding. Physically, magically, mentally. Combined with the lingering effects of the elven poison, those complications were…concerning. Almost too much to bear.

I rose slowly to my feet, flexing my hand and calling a small flame to it. I was stronger when she was close to me, yes, but I was still powerful on my own. Powerful enough to keep moving. To find her. To fix everything that had gone wrong.

Moth rested upon his back on one corner of the desk before me, perilously close to rolling off the edge. The room was deathly quiet save for his breathing and occasional snores.

The door to the study remained closed, but I heard footsteps drawing closer to it. I sensed the Winter God's energy along with those steps, and suddenly, I was wide awake, my magical troubles entirely forgotten.

Valas let himself inside without knocking.

His face was grim.

I steeled myself for bad news.

"No sign of her," he said, shrugging off his coat and tossing it onto the chair in the corner. He sank down into the same chair, raking a hand through his hair, clenching the pale locks tightly in frustration.

I braced my arms against my desk. "What are you doing back here, then?"

He darted a glance my way without moving.

"There are more places that need searching," I insisted. "The realms are vast, as are the spaces in-between them. I was thinking…she could have tried to escape, and if she wasn't able to focus enough to properly use magic to transport herself, there's no telling where she might have ended up by mistake. Have you really checked everywhere ?"

"Everywhere…" Valas settled more fully into the chair, clasping his hands behind his head with a sigh. "In three days? No. Afraid I didn't manage to search the entirety of the realms—and everything in between them— in three fucking days . My sincerest apologies."

I ignored his droll tone, shoving my chair under the desk with enough force to rattle everything on top of it.

Moth stirred with the shaking, rolling closer to the edge and letting out an irritable yawn without opening his eyes. I caught him by the leg and pulled him back toward safety.

He slept on in the center of the desk while I went to one of the many shelves lining the room and ran my hands along the rows of books and other things stacked upon them.

Again, I didn't really know what I was looking for.

But Karys had re-arranged these shelves the last time she was in here. I couldn't help being drawn to the things she'd touched, even in spite of the painful memories they invoked.

In between the rows of books were stacks of notes she'd made on countless subjects; everything from magic to divine politics to realm layouts to recipes. I could still picture her taking these notes—the grumpy looks she would give me when I interrupted her; the quill flashing with her obsessive scribbling; her voice, mumbling under her breath while she worked things out…

I felt unbalanced without these small pieces of her surrounding me. They'd become like guideposts over the past months, keeping me on the right path even when everything else was going to hell.

I picked up one of the notes. On it, she'd drawn a symbol for each of the three Creators; four more symbols underneath each one, representing the Marr; and still more symbols along the very bottom, representing some of the Miratar spirits—a more or less complete diagram of the current divine beings.

The symbol of Fire appeared to have been reworked several times. The parchment under it was worn through and streaked with stray marks, as if she hadn't been able to decide how to represent the two of us. And the twin flames she'd settled on were faint compared to the rest of the symbols she'd drawn.

The longer I stared at it, the faster the room seemed to spin.

"What are you doing over there?" Valas asked.

I didn't answer right away.

What the hell was I doing here?

The Winter God cleared his throat.

"We have work to do," I finally replied, gripping the shelf in front of me. "I need you to tell me every place you searched. We need to be methodical about this—"

"She's still in the mortal realm."

The certainty in his tone made me pause.

"I didn't find her ," he said, "but I did find witnesses…people who saw someone attack her. An assailant who apparently looked very similar to Karys herself."

I clenched the shelf's edge hard enough that I lost the feeling in my fingers. "Her sister?"

"That would be my guess. Where she took Karys to, no one could say. Or would say. But there may be more answers in your old kingdom. In the palace you once called home, to be specific."

I tensed, crumpling the paper in my hand before I realized what I was doing. "Why there?"

"Because apparently several members of the elven army were taken captive in the aftermath of the attack on Mindoth's Keep. Cillian was among them. If they haven't executed him yet, then he could prove helpful to us." He frowned, looking suddenly doubtful as he added, "Although he wasn't particularly helpful to Karys before, was he?"

"No. But I can be more persuasive than she was." I hastily placed the diagram she'd made back on the shelf just as fire ignited in my palm once more. The flames snaked all the way up my forearm before I settled them and turned them to smoke.

I didn't have the same desire to dismember him as I did Andrel, maybe—but if Cillian was not willing to cooperate with me, I would do much worse.

Valas stretched his legs out in front of him and tilted his head back, staring up at the ceiling in thought. "The question, then, is how willing your brother will be to let you interview his prisoners."

"I'd keep my expectations low."

"You did pull him out of that collapsing building, didn't you? I'd say he owes you."

"He isn't really the type to return favors, unfortunately."

"Still worth a try." He fixed his stare on me.

For once, he wasn't goading.

Concerned , more like—which was a strange expression on his face.

He and Mairu didn't know all the details of my past life, but they knew better than to push me about matters concerning my brother. And it was clear Valas expected me to disagree with his plan.

I didn't.

Despite the dread that filled me at the thought of paying Fallon a face-to-face visit, there was no real question in the end. He could bring me a step closer to Karys.

And for her, I would have faced every demon of my past, and then some.

"It's the only real lead we have," Valas said, almost apologetically.

I reached for Karys's drawing again, smoothing it out before stacking it once more with the other notes. I made sure to put it back precisely as I'd found it, knowing she'd give me hell if I didn't.

"Then it's the lead I will follow," I said.

I took the path through Eligas, making my way into the mortal river that bordered the royal city of Altis, just as before. Because it was the less taxing method of travel, and because I'd already taken this path such a short time ago—so I could follow it unconsciously and not truly think about what I was doing.

I'd tried to come up with a different plan to get to Cillian and the other prisoners who might prove useful, concocting increasingly elaborate—and admittedly foolish—plots that would have potentially gotten me in and out of the palace dungeon without having to speak with Fallon.

But facing my brother—truly talking to him—would be the quickest option. The quietest. And, relatively speaking, the easiest.

I would just have to ignore the weight in my chest growing heavier with every step I took toward my old home.

Mairu accompanied me into the city. Once there, however, I moved alone in the direction of the palace. I traveled around the outskirts of Altis, this time, not bothering to hide my appearance with the Serpent Goddess's magic, or otherwise, but not wanting to draw any extra attention, either.

It was late enough that I passed almost no one. I still kept my hood drawn. Stares followed me around most corners, but the paranoia likely had more to do with the unease after the attack on Mindoth than anything.

If any of the few I passed recognized me as a god who bared a striking resemblance to their former prince, they gave no indication of it.

Most of them knew what had become of that prince, of course. Or had at least heard rumors about it. And years ago, perhaps they would have been anticipating a visit from me—especially after all that had happened in Mindoth.

But it had been so long since I'd walked these streets in a recognizable form that there were no eager bows or other greetings to welcome me; only wariness. Which was just as well.

Yet, as I arrived at the palace gates, I found myself hoping to be recognized. Because I'd decided on my plan by this point: The quickest way to get inside and speak with the king would be to reveal my true identity and dare anyone to deny me entry.

A pair of alert guards flanked the main door, hands resting on their swords.

I rolled the tension from my shoulders—sending a slight throb of pain through my still-healing injury in the process—and lowered my hood.

The lanterns around the door burned low, their light barely enough to illuminate the mosaic of my family's crest that featured on the ground before the double doors. As I stepped onto that crest, pausing in the center of the eagle's outstretched wings, the guard on the left snapped his gaze to me.

The guard on the right froze mid-way through unsheathing his weapon, his gaze sweeping over me, stalling on my face as he clearly tried to place it.

It took more effort than usual, but I breathed in deep and called magic to the surface on the exhale, lighting fiery patterns across my forearms and up around my neck. The lanterns brightened as well. The gold and ivory mosaic glittered beneath me.

"You…"

"Yes. Me." I kept my voice low and controlled, the barest hint of a threat under the words. "I am here to speak with the king."

I watched their eyes, the swift calculations and questions tumbling behind them.

"I'm afraid we can't—"

"Yes," I corrected, "I assure you, you can ."

They both swallowed down whatever objections they'd been considering, though their eyes continued to dart restlessly about, looking for some other solution to the problem I presented.

Finally, the left one gave in, relaxing somewhat. He gave a small bow of his head, then opened the door and called for another guard stationed farther inside.

This new guard served as my escort—after some coaxing and several harsh commands from the door guard—and he cautiously led me up the second set of stairs we came to.

His eyes grew a little wider every time we passed one of the evenly-spaced torches along the hallways; the fires in them reacted automatically—even to my weakened, unconscious magic—dancing a little brighter as I passed. My escort winced with every shift in the lighting, as though he worried I would wield the flames against him, next.

We walked in silence until we reached the third floor.

"The king is likely still in his eastern study, despite the late hour." His voice shook slightly. "He passes the majority of his nights within it, as of late. Sleep eludes him often."

I know the feeling .

So at least we still had something in common, even now, after years and realms apart.

Our destination stood at the very end of a dark hallway lined with maps of various kingdoms and the regions within them. I'd never paid much attention to them as a child, but now I found myself falling behind as I took them in, thinking of how Karys would have been completely absorbed in the wealth of information they depicted.

Two more guards waited for us at the door to the eastern study.

"Captain Garn's orders," my escort said to them, voice still wavering a bit. "He's to be allowed in to see the king without any more questions."

Confusion flashed across the guards' faces, but they slowly stepped aside without argument.

I hesitated only a moment before pushing the heavy door open and walking inside.

I'd been granted access to this room on very few occasions growing up. And usually only when I was in trouble, being dragged before my father to face punishment—so the memories of this space were mostly unpleasant ones.

It still looked more or less the same as the image seared into my mind. Towering shelves filled with bland record books on one wall. Rows of ornate shields, swords, knives, and other gleaming weapons hanging on the other—just a small sampling of the impressive collection the former king possessed.

Torches like the ones in the halls lined these walls, as well, but they did little to warm things, even after I purposely directed more energy into them to make them burn brighter.

The room smelled as I remembered it, too—like leather and ink and metal, with a hint of the oils used to clean blades. Father had often polished those blades while listening to reports and holding small council meetings in this space. Gripping a sword kept him weighted and grounded in his decision making, he'd claimed.

Tonight, yet more guards were currently stationed in the corners. All these sentries…were they expecting another attempt on my brother's life, so soon after the last?

Fallon sat at the table, looking calm and unworried about any would-be assassins. An untouched plate of food and a goblet of what smelled like spiced wine sat beside him.

Despite my escort's claim about his lack of sleep, the king looked wide awake, a pen clutched in his hand and moving urgently over an already impressively-long letter.

He seemed mostly intact despite the injuries he'd sustained, though his movements were stiff and occasionally accompanied by wincing. His face remained a canvas of bruises, most of them now faded to a mottled shade of greenish brown. A fresh scar covered the left side of his face, the edges of it still an angry shade of red.

It reminded me of another scarred face, which made the heavy feeling in my chest grow worse.

"Why are you here?" Fallon didn't look up from the desk as he spoke, continuing his writing. Even once he placed his pen aside, he kept his gaze on the paper, lifting it more fully into the lamp light and reading it to himself over and over again.

He reminded me of our father in that moment—so desperate to seem busy because it meant he didn't have to look me in the eyes.

"I want to discuss what happened in Mindoth," I said, "and the ones you took captive after the ordeal."

He grunted. "I'm still recovering, but my prognosis is good enough. The attack was a grave mistake on the part of the elves, however, and they will pay dearly for it—through those captives and otherwise. What else is there to discuss?"

"That attack was only the beginning. The situation is fragile. Complicated."

"And you think I'm unaware of this?"

I held my tongue. I hadn't really come here to provide counsel for his war efforts. I had only one true goal tonight, and it was to get closer to finding Karys.

My brother clearly had other things on his mind.

"I didn't think you'd ever show your face in the halls of this palace again," he said after a weighted pause. "Because, after all, you are part of the reason the situation is so fragile and complicated, aren't you?"

Again, I said nothing. It felt like we were walking through a forest on the darkest of nights; so many rocks and roots hidden and waiting to trip us, each as likely to derail this conversation as the next.

"You started this years ago," he continued, "when you answered the attack on our family with divine fire, and then left us to clean up the mess."

I stared at the sword hanging on the wall behind him—once our father's favorite one—as I said, "And you've done nothing to keep the fire going over the years, I suppose? No attacks or unfair sanctions against the elven-kind? No thirst for vengeance of your own?"

I could feel his glare settling on me, though I kept my eyes on the sword. The blade was wide enough that I could see my distorted reflection in it—my unnaturally bright eyes, the softly-glowing edges of the symbols on my skin.

I made a conscious effort to try and settle these things; I wanted to go back to a time when we were both powerless mortals, if only for a moment.

"I've simply been trying to hold the line," Fallon said. "I would welcome peace if I thought they were capable of it."

I thought of the many, many conversations I'd had with Karys about what the elves had endured as the humans' population soared and stretched across the kingdoms. Her kind claimed they would welcome a ceasefire, too, if only the humans were capable of it.

Such a messy thing, this idea of peace— especially when no one could agree on who had started the war.

"And what would you know of mortal politics?" my brother asked. "How well can you really see our troubles from your divine throne?"

"I am not oblivious to them. I'm intimately familiar with the battles you face—now, more than ever."

"And why is that?" He fixed a commanding glare on me.

When I didn't answer immediately, his eyes shifted toward the guards in the corners of the room, as if considering ordering them to drag me away.

So much like our father.

Answer me, or get out of my sight.

I sighed. I'd hoped to avoid this complicated conversation—but if it was the only way to get him to understand where I was coming from, then perhaps I didn't have a choice.

"If you can be silent and listen for once in your life," I said, settling down in the chair on the other side of his desk, "then I'll explain some things."

He continued to glare for several beats before finally giving in with a slight nod.

I spent the better part of the next half hour explaining as much as I could bring myself to share about Karys, the world she came from, and the way we had collided, for better or worse.

To my surprise, Fallon didn't interrupt, except to take a moment partway through to dismiss the guards so we could continue our discussion in private. It felt like a small victory to be left alone with him. Although plenty of guards continued to linger outside, my brother didn't seem to think I was an immediate threat to his life, at least.

When I had finished speaking, however, he merely leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest while grooves of skepticism furrowed his brow. "And you think I should accept your stories—and counsel—without question, I assume?"

"Do you have other allies in a better position to give you information about all of these things?"

" Allies ," he repeated with a snort. "Why should I believe you're truly an ally? The divine are known to play tricks. How do I know if everything you've said is true?"

"I'm more than just a divine being. You and I are—"

"You left," he interrupted, rising to his feet. "Ascended. Whatever you and I were is no longer what we are . There is no returning to it, either. You became a god. Powerful, worshipped, invincible. I became a king. Worshipped and powerful to some, maybe, but also targeted and alone in a way you could never comprehend. I've a reason to be guarded against outsiders, haven't I? Divine or otherwise. And you …" He trailed off with a hiss-like sound, one that reminded me of water trying to extinguish a fire.

He walked to the window. The curtains were open, revealing a dark stretch of land—the side of the palace that faced away from Altis. "How many years has it been since we've spoken?"

Too many.

"And you come back now, acting as if nothing has changed."

I rose to my feet as well, following him across the room.

"I know there are many kings who like to think of themselves as gods," he said without turning around, "but I'm not one of them. I'm afraid we have little in common these days, my divine, invincible little brother."

It was difficult to keep the frustration from my tone. "I am not invincible."

I watched the reflection of his face in the window. His expression was unreadable and unchanging, even as I drew closer and the space heated with my growing impatience.

"And I have a weakness," I said. "Weren't you listening to me earlier?"

He glanced over his shoulder. For a fraction of a second, he regarded me with something more than contempt—with something more like the exasperated but concerned looks he'd occasionally thrown my way when we were children.

He looked back out the window and said, "You mean the elven woman you spoke of."

"Yes."

His back remained to me, not inviting further conversation.

Months ago, I wouldn't have pressed this conversation. I would have accepted the silence between us—welcomed it, even. It was easier. More comfortable to just let it be.

But I'd changed.

I had something more important than my own comfort, now. Something that drew forth words I never thought I would say to my brother: "I need your help."

Fallon huffed out a laugh as he closed the curtains and went back to his desk, shaking his head. "Well, this is not how I imagined our reunion would ultimately go."

"I have to find her," I pressed. "And your prison hold is currently full of beings who might help me do that."

He busied himself again with his letter, ignoring me as he read whatever he'd written for what must have been the tenth time. His gaze was cold. Calculating. Unyielding. It reminded me of the nights I would follow him into the city and watch from the shadows as he tossed dice or counted cards—the icy calm demeanor of a gambler.

One who didn't seem likely to take a chance on me.

I started to once again consider the elaborate, more complicated plans I'd made on the way here; it was looking as if I might need one of those schemes to actually make my way into the dungeons…

Then he slowly, quietly said, "You pulled me from the rubble in Mindoth. I owe you a debt. And if there is one thing I have learned since picking up this crown, it is that debts make it even heavier to bear."

I stared without speaking as he made one last edit to his letter before finally folding it up and preparing to seal it closed.

"I'll grant you clearance to enter my prison holds," he said. "Speak to whomever you wish, but once your business is done, you will leave the palace as quickly and quietly as possible. I have enough complicated meetings ahead of me without having to explain to my advisors why I'm letting you do this."

I nodded my thanks and immediately turned to leave, not wanting to give him an opportunity to change his mind.

"One last thing."

I paused in the doorway and turned to face him, listening.

"I don't know what obligations you middle-gods have to this realm, but…if you find the one you're looking for, you should take her back to your heavens and keep her there," he said. "Leave the mortal wars to mortals. We don't need any more meddling deities." He busied himself with stamping his seal onto his folded letter as he added, "And don't worry—the elves will not threaten your power or the hierarchy of gods for much longer."

Those last words settled heavily over me, making me hesitate longer than I should have. "It sounds like you're underestimating them," I said.

Like a disaster waiting to happen .

He gave a dismissive snort.

"Fallon—"

"You are not welcome here any longer." His face flushed brighter from the effort of keeping his words calm. "Get out. Now. Before I change my mind about letting you into my dungeons." His eyes flashed up to mine, shining with impatience. With warning.

So I went.

I had come here with only one real purpose—I would not be diverted from it now.

But as I stepped from the room, into the dark halls filled with grim-faced guards and anxious whispers, the sense of foreboding in my chest became so heavy I could scarcely breathe.