Chapter 35

Karys

The interior of the Altis Palace reminded me of tunnels through a vast mountain, with cold walls of marbled stone and few windows to let in natural light.

The tunnel carver clearly had a precise hand and an eye for art, too; every so often we passed incredible works cut into the stone, reliefs that featured scenes from the Kingdom of Galizur's history. Each one was rendered in painstaking detail. I could have studied them for hours, deciphering their stories and taking notes.

But that was not why we had come here.

I stayed close to Dravyn as we climbed higher into the palace, heading for the parlor where we'd been told we could find his brother. Despite the relatively narrow halls, it felt as if I was walking into something much larger, the world expanding around me with every step I took.

The conversation I'd shared with Dravyn yesterday continued to play on repeat in my mind, just as it had been doing since the second we left the garden.

I believe I could bring balance back to the races and realms…

I hadn't realized how badly I wanted to accomplish this before I'd suggested it to him. Now, the thought was all-consuming. It was the answer I had been seeking since I woke up with divine power flowing through my veins. The why I'd been trying to grasp, and the how —how I could exist in both worlds with purpose in my past, present, and future.

I was meant to be walking this path.

To be the one to bring balance between all these different worlds I was tethered to, in one way or another.

I was certain this was my task, but it felt all the more impossible as we stepped into the sun-splashed room where our target awaited.

Fallon was perched on the edge of a massive white sofa with golden footings. A short sword lay at his side, its jeweled sheath balanced across his knee. He was working on the sheath, securing and reinforcing a few of the sparkling red stones that had loosened from the twisting, ornate pattern on that casing. A pinching, metal tool of some kind flashed in his hand.

He didn't speak right away, giving me an opportunity to study his appearance without distraction. Dravyn had once told me that he favored his father, whereas Fallon favored their mother.

Their mother must have been beautiful, if the King of Galizur was any indication.

His complexion was a few shades darker than Dravyn's golden-beige tone. His hair appeared to be a rich shade of brown until he shifted in such a way that sunlight caught the strands, revealing hints of deep auburn. His demeanor was cool and confident—he shared that in common with his brother, at least. He was so perfectly balanced on the elegant couch that he could have been a posed, impressive sculpture rather than a living, breathing person.

His focus and poise didn't falter even as Dravyn cleared his throat.

"I hope you have a good reason for disrupting my solitude," said the king as he secured a small jewel in the clutches of the shiny tool he held.

"I wouldn't have come here without reason," Dravyn replied. "I've no desire for casual, unplanned visits with you. I would have thought that was abundantly clear by now."

I grimaced at the bitterness infused in his words; we would get nowhere with that tone.

The king's green-eyed gaze swept right over Dravyn and instead moved to me, appraising. "You found her, I see."

"Yes," said Dravyn.

"So our business has concluded successfully, then."

I stepped forward before Dravyn could fire another thinly-veiled insult at him. "I'm afraid nothing is really concluded ."

The king repositioned the scabbard against his knee and finished securing the gem he was working on before meeting my insistent stare.

"There's something else you want from me? More favors, so soon?"

"The favor would be in your best interest," I said. "Trust me."

His gaze slid over me, lingering on my tapered ears. Like so many before him, he seemed to be trying to figure out what I was and which side I was on. I looked like the ones who had destroyed his training grounds, yet I had walked into this room side-by-side with a god.

So I had his interest, at least—even if trust was another matter entirely.

"I'm in a unique position to give you the insight and perspective you need to help protect your kingdom and de- escalate the wars surrounding it." Ironically, it was a position I'd struggled with for months,

But now I was determined to use it to my advantage.

"Another deity here to offer me counsel, hm?" He bared his teeth in a challenging smile.

"Only to those wise enough to listen to it," I replied evenly.

"You're here for some other reason. Admit it, or this conversation is finished." He put the sheath aside and settled back against the sofa, regarding me with a raised brow.

"Very few things are done for a singular reason, wouldn't you agree? Life is not that simple, unfortunately."

He chuckled a bit at this. Then his gaze flashed toward Dravyn, and he spoke in a voice just above a whisper. He used the ancient language of Galizur, leaving me mostly in the dark about whatever was being said; I'd studied and attempted to translate a few of the Galithian books in Dravyn's libraries, but I was far from fluent.

Dravyn replied to his brother in the same language, his tone coiling tightly with irritation along with the rest of his body.

I braced myself for the king's command to leave.

It never came.

Instead, Fallon said, "I want to speak with her alone."

My stomach flipped.

Dravyn shifted his stance, angling his body more protectively in front of me. "Why alone?"

The king picked up the jeweled sheath again, giving it a once-over before leaning down and picking up the sword it was meant to cover.

"Because I'm intrigued by her," he said, carefully sheathing the sword. "Anybody who could make my little brother come crawling to me for help must wield a significant amount of power and persuasion, indeed. And I don't want you or your temper interfering with our conversation."

"This isn't a game, Fallon."

"You've forgotten much about palace life, it seems," said Fallon, rising and stretching with an oddly casual grace. "It is a game. But not one I intend to play recklessly. Don't worry."

I placed a hand on Dravyn's arm, squeezing tight, trying to massage some of the tension from his muscles. "I'll be fine," I assured him.

He hesitated, no doubt thinking of the last time we'd split up.

It hadn't exactly turned out fine.

But I survived that ordeal, for better or worse, and I would survive this one, too.

Dravyn didn't protest as I stepped away from him, though he did say one last thing to his brother in a low voice…yet more words in their native language that I didn't understand. Clearly a threat, this time; the air grew scorching hot as he spoke. The sunlight itself seemed to flicker.

Fallon looked uncomfortable for an instant but quickly recovered and gestured to the door. "Let's step into my office across the hall," he said to me.

I followed him, trying to ignore the way Dravyn's magic swelled as he watched me go.

Stay calm , I thought—a reminder for both of us.

He didn't reply. But nothing around me caught on fire, so I considered the situation stable for the moment.

Fallon left the door to his office slightly ajar. He walked to his desk against the back wall, but after a silent debate, decided against sitting down. He walked the edges of the room instead, gaze flitting about like a man taking inventory of all the books and other treasures he'd collected. Like he was afraid someone might try to steal them.

Or at the very least, knock them all down.

He eventually threw a glance back toward the room where we'd left Dravyn and asked, "What did you say to get him to come back to this palace?"

"You're his brother. He's wanted to come back here for a long time, I think, even if he would never admit it."

Fallon snorted and moved toward the window, fiddling with the curtain ties, clearly not believing me. "He looked eager to leave the last time he was here—once he'd had his favor granted, anyway."

"He told me you ordered him to leave."

The king parted the curtains. Ran his fingers over the window sill and lifted them, inspecting for dust. Several times he did this before wiping his hands on the leg of his trousers and saying, "I suppose I did."

"You regret it?"

"I try not to regret much of anything, as a rule."

Wouldn't that be nice.

"But you did tell him to leave and not come back?"

"I thought it would be simpler."

"He thought the same—that staying away would be easier."

"And yet you convinced him otherwise."

"In my experience, Your Majesty, there are very few families who can claim to have a simple relationship, anyway. So we might as well try to help one another, for better or worse."

I chose to ignore the dismissive noise he made, and I kept talking.

"That's also part of the reason I've come to see you."

"Is that so?"

He fixed a hard stare in my direction. I briefly froze. All the things I needed to say and do, all the decisions to make and all their consequences and outcomes rattled around in my mind. Loud. Messy. Uncertain..

But somehow, I burned away all the distractions, leaving only the single thing I had to say.

"I need help reaching my sister. She's a leader of the rebellious factions you've been battling with, and if I could draw her away from the other rebels long enough to speak to her on ground that's neutral between us—perhaps somewhere here in Altis—then I believe I could be a mediator of sorts between your army and hers, which would—"

"Invite the enemy into my city?" Fallon leaned against the wall, arms folded across his chest. "After what they did at Mindoth?"

"What alternative do you have planned?"

"Not really any of your business, is it?"

So he was going to be difficult, then.

I stepped closer to him. "Do you realize who you're talking to?"

He opened his mouth to reply, but the sight of me moving even closer made his words catch in his throat.

I came to a stop in a ribbon of sunlight snaking through the parted drapes. My body seemed to absorb the heat from it, drawing smoke and light to the surface of my skin, making it difficult to tell where the sun ended and my magic began. The curtains moved, caught in a warm breeze despite the window remaining tightly shut.

Fallon's gaze jumped between the fluttering fabric and me, calculating.

"Whatever happens in this realm is the business of the divine beings charged with looking after it," I reminded him. "I am one of those beings. And if I were you, I would want me to be on your side."

He had to swallow a few times to clear his throat and manage his usual confident tone. "I didn't think the gods took sides. My brother's aloofness and abandonment suggested as much."

I didn't reply right away, my lungs too tight to breathe any words out—because I knew what it was like to feel like your sibling had abandoned you.

It was a particular kind of hurt that I wouldn't be able to heal or even start to untangle within this single conversation.

Yet, I had to keep trying to reach him.

Fallon looked ready to leave. Before he could, I blurted out, "Dravyn wants to protect you, too. That's the other reason we came here."

The king flashed me the same challenging smile he'd given in the parlor. "Then why don't you gods simply smite my enemies for me and call it a day?"

"It doesn't work like that."

"And what a pity that is."

"I am trying to do this discreetly. Diplomatically. I'd rather not burn anything or anyone to the ground to make a point. And I'd rather not watch you continue to make mistakes that will be the equivalent of burning it all down."

He lifted his eyes to the ceiling, studying the tin panels and the elaborate swirls of gold painted upon their ivory faces.

"I am trying to help you," I pressed. "I can put an end to the battles around you before they become a full-scale war you can't win."

He kept his eyes on the ceiling. "And all I have to do is send an invitation to the leader of the very beings I have fought to keep out of my kingdom at all costs."

I didn't always recognize sarcasm when it was leveled in my direction, but it was impossible to miss it in his voice.

I chose to ignore it.

"Yes. That's all. You can manage that, can't you?"

He slowly lowered his gaze to mine. His expression was stony and proud, reminding me of one of the many stone reliefs we'd passed on our way through the palace.

The seconds ticked by. The curtains whipped more wildly in the throes of my power, casting strange shadows over our faces. Papers on shelves and pages of books joined in the dance of energy, filling the room with sounds of crinkling and rustling.

"For the record," said Fallon, "I don't believe you can change the course this realm is on. And yet…" He stared at me with unabashed curiosity. "You've clearly changed my brother, which I also wouldn't have thought possible."

I exhaled slowly, settling my magic along with all the things it was disturbing.

The king turned his back to me, clasping his hands behind it as he stared at the sliver of Altis now visible through the stilled drapery.

"I'll arrange what I can," he said. "But if you are wrong, you will have put my city and its people in a very dangerous position. I just hope you realize that."

Later that evening, I stood on the roof of one of the palace's smaller towers, watching the sun sinking below the vast forest in the distance.

I'd been here for the better part of the last hour. The fields between the palace and the forest were covered with red flowers cast in gold by the sunset, reminding me of the fields of marigold that stretched outside of Andrel's old family home.

I used to find such peace in that place, sitting alone for hours, watching the colors of night and day shift over the swaying flowers. Now all I could think about was the last time I'd sat there.

How everything changed so soon after that moment.

Cillian had joined me that day; I could still remember every word of the conversation we shared. I wanted to shrink at the memory—at the reminder that all I had left of him were memories. But I didn't. Cillian wouldn't have wanted me to. He would have been telling me to focus, to find some way to turn his death into something I could use…

And I had an idea of how to do that.

I hated it. Hated to think of the death of one of my best friends and mentors as a potential stepping stone toward anything good .

But it was leverage I could use, and I knew it.

The orders to poison Cillian and the other captives had come from Andrel—I was certain of it. My sister would not have given that order. Cillian had once been her closest friend. There was a chance she didn't even know what had happened, given how expertly Andrel could weave lies.

So when we spoke, I was going to tell her everything Dravyn had witnessed.

I would keep opening her eyes, over and over, until she finally saw what I did.

Assuming she actually showed up, of course.

Fallon had sent a messenger soon after our conversation in his office. I'd been counting the hours that passed since that moment; we were approaching the tenth. The king had offered to let us stay the night while we waited, and Dravyn had begrudgingly agreed once I mentioned that I thought it would be easier to stay in one place—easier and less taxing on my magic that was still recovering after my ordeal at my old house.

Truthfully, I felt fine.

I just wasn't willing to leave for several reasons. At the top of the list was my fear that Fallon would change his mind if I wasn't here and constantly reminding him of my power and presence.

And though I knew it might end in disaster, I also wanted an excuse to keep Dravyn near his brother for at least a little longer. It felt like the only way to start healing the wounds between them.

Despite my scheming, they had managed to avoid each other for most of the day—but at least they were under the same roof again. That was a start.

As the last rays of sun slipped away, I heard footsteps approaching. I turned to see Dravyn walking toward me, cutting an impressive silhouette in the deepening twilight, looking more godly than human just then. I knew he'd made an effort to stifle his divine essence while we were here, but his skin still glowed with a faint glimmer of gold, as if it had drawn in bits of the setting sun.

His lips curved upward—the first relaxed, genuine smile I'd seen from him all day. My heart skipped at the sight, a mixture of happiness and relief tingling through me.

"What are you grinning about?" I asked, smiling back.

"This spot," he replied, taking in the scenery as he strolled closer, "used to be one of my own favorite haunts. I would pass hours up here, sitting on the very edge of the roof. Now here you are. And I don't know…it feels like something's come full circle."

I mirrored his wistful expression, thinking of a younger, less burdened version of him sitting here. "It's a beautiful view."

"Yes," he agreed, his eyes fixing on my face, completely unconcerned about the view behind me.

Blushing slightly, I looked back to the fields and forest, letting my gaze travel the roads that wound to and from the palace, watching for any signs of a returning messenger.

Dravyn came to stand behind me, slipping his arms around my waist and nuzzling his face into the crook between my neck and shoulder. His warm breath fanned over my skin, sending tingles down my spine. His heartbeat pounded against my back.

Even with all the things on my mind, I found myself sinking into that beat, wanting to keep time with it and nothing else. The days we'd spent apart seemed vast, suddenly. Too many minutes, too many hours. My body hummed with want at our reunion, eager to make up for lost time.

I settled more completely against him, sinking my full weight into his warmth, his strength. He supported me with ease, absently trailing his hands along the curves and dips of my waist, my hips, my thighs. I shivered as he dragged his lips and nose along my neck, inhaling my scent.

"Did I ever tell you how much I missed you these past days?" I asked, breath catching on the last word as his mouth found my earlobe and claimed it, covering it in kisses before gently sucking and sliding his teeth across it.

"I missed you, too." His hold on me tightened, one hand dropping to a hip and possessively gripping it. The other traveled up to my throat and splayed across it, the pressure of his fingers increasing until my head tilted to an angle that allowed him to press his lips to mine.

"And I needed you," he mumbled against my lips. "Wanted you. So fucking badly."

I twisted more fully toward him. He moved the hand around my throat up to my hair, tangling his fingers in the loose waves and pulling. Slowly, gently…yet firmly in command. He gathered a fistful of hair and used it to tilt my head to the side, exposing the most sensitive, throbbing pulse-point of my throat.

My mind drifted as his lips and tongue worked against that point until my knees felt weak and ready to collapse into total, blissful unawareness.

Heat snaked out from the fingertips pressed against my hip, winding a wicked path around my thighs before pressing into the space between them.

His control over that fire was very… precise .

A second ribbon of heat swept even deeper into my core, and an involuntary noise—something between a gasp, a moan, and a breathless laugh—escaped me. The sound brought my awareness back with it, despite how hard I tried not to let it.

I didn't pull away from Dravyn, but I did crane my neck so I could see all the guards milling about in the yard below. I wondered if they could see us. Hear us.

"Does it make us poor guests if we distract your brother's soldiers with our rooftop antics?" I mused.

He laughed. "You insisted on staying the night here," he reminded me. "And yes…it might be difficult to find a bit of privacy with all of the guards currently locking the palace down. It's not too late to return to our own palace, of course."

I cut him a wry look. "You're still looking for excuses to run away from here, aren't you?"

"That's only part of it." He gave me a roguish grin. "I've thought about stealing you away to someplace more private, several times today—that's true." The hand against my hip flexed, drawing my body more flush against his. "But then again, as I've told you before: I'm willing to fuck you anywhere."

I no longer cared about any of the guards below, all of a sudden.

"Here on this rooftop or back on our own," he continued, tracing my bottom lip with his thumb, "it makes little difference to me. I suspect your moans will sound just as sweet anywhere we go. Your taste will still be divine, whatever the realm."

His mouth returned briefly to my neck—another taste, for emphasis. Then another, and then we fell back into blissful ignorance for a few minutes, lost in one another's kisses and caresses until we were interrupted by the sound of shouting voices and the echoing clip-clop of hooves.

I reluctantly peeled away from Dravyn and moved to the edge of the roof for a closer look. My body still hummed with desire, but I was desperate to see if those hoofbeats belonged to the horse of a returning messenger.

My heart sank as I took in the scene below—nothing except carts full of supplies being hauled in and unloaded while palace officials darted to and fro, checking lists.

Dravyn sensed my disappointment. Slowly, he followed me and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me against his chest, just as before—but this time I couldn't bring myself to relax against him; I was too caught up in my worried thoughts to return to that enraptured place of moments ago.

"Have you had a chance to talk to your brother much today?" I asked.

"He's locked himself in his private residential hall. Doing his best to avoid me, as expected."

"I think he's glad you're here. He just hasn't figured out how to show it."

"I'll continue waiting on bated breath for my proper welcome home party, then."

"He hasn't thrown us into the streets yet," I pointed out. "That's a good sign, isn't it?"

Dravyn tipped his mouth closer to my ear and mumbled, "I'd keep your bags packed just in case."

I rolled my eyes even though he couldn't see it. "I think I was more convincing than you realize."

He chuckled, the sound low and seductive as it slid across my neck.

"You doubt my negotiating skills?"

He considered for a moment before his lips—now close enough to brush my skin—eased into a smile. "No, I suppose not."

"Such a passionate endorsement."

Another huff of laughter. "How could I doubt such skills," he said, taking my hand and twirling me around to face him, "when I am, after all, a victim of your persuasion myself?"

" Victim is an interesting choice of word there."

He lifted my knuckles to his lips, planting kisses across them. "I've suffered greatly beneath your hands," he insisted.

"There's more suffering in store for you if you keep teasing me."

His smile turned mischievous. "Let's hope so."

The curve of his lips nearly had me melting back into his embrace. But a new commotion from below drew my gaze, and this time I spotted a promising-looking rider trotting through the gates. Hope and dread curdled together in my stomach as I looked to Dravyn for confirmation.

"One of the king's messengers," he said with a nod, "judging by the livery he wears."

I raced back inside.

Fallon was already waiting for us by the time we found our way through the maze of hallways and staircases and managed to reach the entrance the messenger had been heading for.

The king had been there long enough to open the letter the messenger carried in, and—I assumed—had already read it several times over. His face was impassive, however. He said nothing to me as he handed that letter over.

He muttered something to Dravyn before he walked away, but I was too absorbed by the sight of Savna's handwriting to pay much attention to whatever he'd said.

The parchment shook in my hands as we made our way toward a small sitting room nearby. I perched on the edge of a creaking chair and scoured the letter like a starved woman hunting cabinets for scraps, for crumbs, for some morsel of any kind—anything that would help fill the aching pit in my stomach.

I couldn't keep still as I read. I got to my feet. Sat down again. Stood again. Sank deeper into the velvety cushions, only to stand back up again almost immediately.

I kept reading the last line over and over again—it was the only one that seemed to stick in my mind long enough for me to understand it:

I'll see you then.

My heart pounded in my throat.

Dravyn was watching me with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "She's agreed to meet you?" he guessed.

"Just after sunrise." I fought to settle my shaking hands, scanning the letter one more time, still doubting its message even as I read it. "And she's coming alone."

"So she says."

I ignored the pessimistic comment, though he was right to be wary. There was a chance she was lying. A chance she'd been forced to write this reply to help Andrel and the other rebels lay a trap for me.

I knew all of these things, of course.

But for some stupid reason, I was determined to cling to the few shreds of optimism I had left. I had to have hope. There would be no future without it.

"She wants to speak with me privately before we go to the king," I told Dravyn.

"…But she's agreed to speak with Fallon, too?"

"It seems that way," I said, holding out the letter to him. "Though maybe I'm biased and looking for positive things that aren't really there."

He took the parchment and read it silently. Then read it a second and third time before he finally gave it back to me. "It sounds…somewhat promising," he admitted.

I folded the letter up and slipped it into the inside pocket of my coat, letting it rest right above the scar left by Andrel's knife.

Somewhat promising was better than nothing.

And for now, it would have to do.