Chapter 4

Dravyn

I paced the roof of the tallest western tower, staring out over miles of grey ground and cracks filled with molten fire, focusing on nothing in particular while I tried to decide what the hell I was meant to do next.

The sky was growing darker. It matched my mood, and so I couldn't bring myself to summon another orb to brighten it; too many other things were weighing too heavily on my mind, anyhow. And my magic—namely, the strange way it had been ebbing and flowing since Karys's ascension—was certainly not the least of these things.

I stretched my hand out and summoned a small flame. Whispered to it, twisted my wrist, watched the tendrils of red and orange move in accordance…

Effortless enough .

But then again, it was a weak spell. And Karys was not far away from me at the moment. That was the one element that seemed to be consistent with my wayward-as-of-late magic: It was stronger whenever I was close to her, for better or worse.

So I hadn't gone far—just to find some clearer air. Meanwhile, she had insisted on staying inside and looking closer at the maps I'd had out, gleaning whatever extra information and ideas she could from them and the books stuffing the shelves.

I could feel her easily from where I stood, like a second heartbeat pulsing and fluttering through my body. The beating of her magic had been restless for the first hour after I'd left her, but it seemed to have leveled off now…so one of us was clearing their mind, at least.

With a sigh, I closed my hand into a fist, extinguishing the fire in my palm. It was time to admit defeat; this clearer space had done nothing for me. My thoughts still drifted in hazy, aimless patterns, unable to decide on a solid shape, much like the smoke now slipping through my clenched fingers.

Swatting that smoke away, I went back inside. I wandered the halls for a bit until I felt a pull—as I so often did lately—that led me back toward Karys; I returned to the small library and found her still in the middle of it.

The bookshelves, I immediately noticed, had been rearranged in the short time I'd been away. She had color-coordinated them, then lined them up according to the height and width of their spines.

Despite my weary mood and battling thoughts, I felt a small smile curving my lips.

It wasn't the first time she'd done something like this. I could picture the scene even though I hadn't witnessed it; she'd likely started off trying to clean up the mess Halar had made, only to get carried away. Those books were easier to organize than most of the messes we were facing, and finding ways to impose logical order on things brought her comfort, I knew. So I didn't begrudge what she'd done—even though it meant I likely wouldn't be able to find the next book I went looking for without a struggle.

Reimagining the space had apparently worn her out; she'd pulled a stool up to the table where the map of the northern kingdoms was still laid out—one of the only things untouched during her redecorating—and she was resting with her head upon it, her breathing slow and steady.

Asleep, it looked like.

It had been such a long time since I'd seen her surrender to sleep like this that the sight of her stillness concerned me for an instant.

"Seems like it worked," came Rieta's voice.

"What worked?" I asked, looking over my shoulder as she followed me into the room.

"Earlier today, she asked me for something to keep the nightmares at bay. So I gave her a balam dust concoction."

A lead weight settled in my gut at the word nightmares . They weren't a new occurrence—the first weeks after she'd gained her divine powers had been full of such horrors—but I didn't realize she'd still been having them. I'd been a bit…preoccupied lately.

And, knowing her, she'd done everything she could to keep me from seeing her struggle.

Rieta went to the desk, gathering up a few scraps of parchment that had fallen to the floor at Karys's feet. Notes she'd been taking; I recognized her small, painstakingly neat handwriting even at a distant glance.

"Likely the first sound sleep she's had in weeks," Rieta said, quieter.

The weight in my stomach sank deeper.

"I got the concoction from the Healing God. Told him I needed it for myself, so don't worry—he and the rest of the Stone Court don't know that anything's plaguing her. She wouldn't want them to know what she was going through, I suspect."

"No. She wouldn't." I moved closer to the desk, taking care to step lightly and not wake her. My gaze fell to her right hand, the only part of her that remained tense under the balam's influence; a pen was clenched in it, its sharp tip pointing upward as though she'd fallen asleep prepared to brandish it against any nightmares that might slip through the Healing God's potion.

More to myself than Rieta, I said, "I wish I knew how to make these nightmares stop permanently."

"Stop?" she repeated with a sniff. "My dear, the kinds of things she's been through will never just stop . Some hurts echo on indefinitely, in nightmare form or otherwise. Quieter after a time, maybe, but still there, just waiting for some new thing to bounce off and amplify themselves by. I told her the same thing." She sighed wistfully, her warm brown eyes crinkling at the edges as she focused them on Karys. "But she's strong—she'll push through whatever hurt there is to push through, don't you worry."

These last words brought little comfort, but I nodded all the same; I'd learned long ago not to argue with this woman who had practically raised me.

"Speaking of hurts that echo…" Rieta began, stacking Karys's notes into a neat pile and adding them to the organized shelves as she spoke, "I accidentally overheard some of your conversations in here earlier."

" Accidentally overheard?" I huffed out a laugh, knowing better. "Or eavesdropped on them?"

"Either way," she said with a shrug. "I would have known something was bothering you even if I hadn't heard a thing."

Again, there was no point in arguing.

"You're thinking of leaving, aren't you?" Rieta asked, casually, still busying herself with the piles of notes. "You're worried about your brother."

"It's my job to be concerned for human-kind," I said evenly. "Especially their leaders."

"I'm rather sure this concern has little to do with your godly obligations." She pinned me with the same sort of look she used to give when scolding me for not caring enough about my school lessons. "Nothing wrong with wanting to see your brother."

"I'd hardly consider us true siblings at this point." Karys stirred, burrowing her face more completely into her folded arms, and I lowered my voice as I added, "I am not the little brother I once was, trailing like some lost little puppy on the heels of the future king."

"No, you're not. But you'll forgive an old woman and her poor eyesight, won't you? Sometimes I blink, and I still catch a glimpse of that little princeling in the corner of my vision." Rieta's tone had taken on the pensive, wistful quality it sometimes did when she was recalling our past life in the mortal realm.

I was not fond of that tone.

I exhaled a slow, concentrated breath, as though I could expel all the memories of my old life if I just focused hard enough.

Unsurprisingly, this didn't work.

There was no forgetting where I'd come from—and no denying that I needed to go back there, sooner rather than later.

Glancing at Rieta, I said, "I suppose you were also eavesdropping when I told Karys it would be too dangerous for her to visit the mortal realm alongside me."

"I heard no part of that conversation." She coughed. "But I suspected you'd feel that way."

"I'm not being unreasonable."

"No."

I wasn't sure which one of us I was trying to convince more. "If she were to lose control of her magic…" Violent images of smoke and ash and flame exploded in my mind—a still-too-clear memory of Ederis burning. I shoved it down as best I could. "She would never forgive herself, and I won't risk her suffering or having to carry such a weight if I can help it."

Rieta's hand rested upon Karys's notes, fingertips drumming thoughtfully against the parchment. "Forgiving one's self is a difficult thing to do, isn't it?"

I felt her gaze slide toward me, but I ignored it as Karys stirred again, clearly unable to get truly comfortable against the hard desk.

I still had not made up my mind about leaving for the mortal realm, but I was done talking about it. For now, I focused on picking Karys up, gently cradling her against my chest and carrying her toward a more comfortable bed.

She felt feverishly warm, and a thin sheen of sweat coated her skin—a side effect of unsettled magic? Or of nightmares that were trying to push through?

"The balam potion should keep her at peace through the night, at least," Rieta called to my retreating back.

The unspoken meaning was clear enough: Go do what you need to do and be back before she wakes up.

I pulled her more securely against me and trudged onward without another word to Rieta.

Karys seemed to get even warmer as I walked, as if the fire contained in her skin was rising up and trying to reach mine. Her eyes blinked open as we reached the stairs that led to my private chambers. She appeared disoriented for a moment, body squirming, hands fumbling for purchase among the folds of my shirt, until her gaze finally found mine. "Where are we going?"

"I'm carrying you to bed."

Her hold on my shirt tightened. A grip of panic—likely at the thought of sleep and the nightmares waiting for her there.

"I'm not tired," she protested, words slurring, eyelids fluttering and fighting against closing. "I'm wide awake."

"Yes," I said with a touch of amusement. "Clearly wide awake."

She nodded and half-yawned, half-mumbled a response that was fully lost as she buried her face against my chest.

After a few more steps, her fingers relaxed, and she made no more protests. Even as I opened the heavy bedroom door, sending a rush of warmer, smoky, wood-scented air flowing over us, she still did not stir.

Concern gnawed at my insides as I wondered at the amount of the Healing God's potion currently flowing through her veins. But I trusted Rieta—she'd nursed me back to health often enough—and I knew she wouldn't have given Karys anything she didn't feel was completely safe.

Karys had her own room, her own bed, but I much preferred her in mine. There were several reasons why, but tonight it was mainly because of the tower it was located in; the wards surrounding said tower were older and ran deeper than anywhere else in my territory.

I wanted to believe she would be safe here, even if I disappeared for awhile.

You once thought your family was safe in their guarded tower, too , came a faint voice in the back of my mind—the too-familiar voice of a monster that seemed to always be lingering at the edges of my thoughts here lately, waiting for an opportunity to creep in.

I gave my head a shake, tossing the monster as I'd done before. Then, as carefully as I could, trying not to wake her again, I settled Karys onto the bed and drew the covers up over her.

I remained at her side for several minutes afterward, watching to make certain the Healing God's potion was truly doing its job.

I wanted to stay longer. To crawl into bed beside her and pull her close, let the feverish heat of her skin transfer to me, along with her nightmares, her pain, her fear—all of it. I would have carried it all for her if only there was some spell to make such a thing possible.

But our magic was capable of nothing like that.

There were other problems to see to this night, too, whether I liked it or not. And if she truly was resting peacefully for the next few hours…

Holding in a sigh, I rose soundlessly and started toward the door.

Ramoth slipped through that door at the same moment, tail swishing and talons scratching softly along the wood floor.

"There you are," I mumbled. "Finished stealing and hoarding your fill of baked goods, have you?"

He wiggled his shoulders and puffed out his chest—clearly proud of all he'd collected this evening—before trotting his way over to the bed and pausing next to it. His tail ceased its swishing as he took in the sight of Karys lying motionless on the bed. An uncertain purr rumbled in his throat as he cocked his head back toward me.

I nodded to the empty space near Karys's feet, granting him permission—though the little shit likely would have ended up in the bed even if I hadn't.

"Gently," I warned. "Don't disturb her."

He gave his tail a haughty flick, but he obeyed, softening his steps before taking a flying leap and landing gently on the mattress. He burrowed under the covers, looking positively smug about how warm and comfortable he was.

"I really did create a monster with you, didn't I?" I muttered.

He yawned, closed his eyes, and snuggled closer to Karys.

Again suppressing my desire to crawl into the bed myself, I turned away and forced myself to leave. I descended the steps outside in a daze, crossing much of the palace with the same lack of focus. My movements felt detached, as if controlled by some unseen puppeteer, but I was still very aware of all the individual thoughts racing through my head. All the possible paths I could travel. All the ways those paths could prove wrong and deadly.

By the time I made it to the entry hall, I'd finally, reluctantly, settled on my next move.

Almost as if summoned by my decision, I heard footsteps in the hall behind me, soon followed by a familiar voice: "You're planning on going to Galizur tonight, aren't you?"

I didn't break my stride as the sound of Mairu's voice reached me. I wasn't surprised by her arrival, or that she knew what was going on; Valas had overheard enough earlier, and the God of Winter had never managed to keep anything to himself for longer than a day—if that. Her palace had likely been his very next stop after escorting Karys back to me.

Mai stepped directly into my path, fixing me with an expectant glare.

"I've thought about it, yes." I wasn't in the mood to discuss this any further. I just wanted to act. To do what needed to be done. "And I've already made up my mind regarding it. So your visit is in vain, I'm afraid."

She set her jaw. "Don't you think you're being reckless?"

"I've been there countless times since my ascension."

"Never with the mortal realm in such a state as it's in now. It's a mess, and frankly, so are you. Your magic is—"

"Enough." I didn't want to talk about what my magic was. Or wasn't. It was just another complication in a long list of them. I would deal with it in stride, along with everything else. "I'll be careful," I insisted. "And I won't let him see me. I never do."

Though I'd gone back to my old home countless times over the past years, I hadn't actually spoken to my brother, Fallon—now the King of Galizur—since shortly after I'd ascended. Given the chaos and bloodshed that surrounded my ascension, I doubted he would want to have any sort of conversation with me. And I didn't want to speak with him, either.

It was simply easier this way.

Mai was relentless, as per usual. "Let me go instead."

"You don't know the royal city or its palace like I do. I can move much more quickly."

"Until your magic fails to bring you back to this realm quickly . Or at all. What will you do then?"

I shrugged. "I'll walk back. Do you know I used to be very fond of walking when I was a human? I could journey for miles in the forests around my city, solely on foot."

"Be serious," she hissed.

I mirrored the clench of her jaw, started to speak several times, but ultimately decided to keep my mouth shut. I pushed by her and exited the palace, setting my course for the magical waterways that would carry me to the mortal realm.

Mai followed. "Does Karys know what you're doing?"

I slowed, shooting her a cross look. She'd wielded Karys's name like a weapon—the only sharp edge that could have given me pause just then.

"I didn't have a chance to tell her," I said. "She's resting at the moment."

"You're sneaking away while she's asleep. Coward."

"And you're painfully accurate and aware, as always."

"I'm only trying to help."

"If you really want to help, then stay here and keep an eye on things until I get back."

She clenched her fists against an obvious surge of irritation, her controlling magic seizing the trees around us and making their branches go unnaturally taut. But then she glanced in the direction of the tower that held my bedroom.

The tree branches swayed as she breathed out and released them, several leaves snapping loose and drifting to the ground as she did.

I could see the thoughts churning in her mind, her concern for Karys slowly outweighing her disagreement with me and my plans.

"Fine," she grumbled.

"Thank you."

She chewed on her bottom lip, contemplating for another moment, before removing one of her many rings and offering it to me.

It was golden in color, the band made to look like the curled body of a serpentine dragon—her favored form to shift into when she wasn't masquerading as a human. The dragon's head was slender, its eyes made up of two shining, scarlet-colored stones.

"Take this, at least," she said, placing the ring into my palm. "It won't make up for the…troubles you're having with your own powers, but it will help hide you, at least for a time. Not indefinitely, mind you. And if its power wears off and your reckless ass is still in the middle of someplace you shouldn't be, I am not coming to save you. Just so we're clear."

"You'd come for me."

She rolled her eyes.

I smiled.

She bared her teeth at me, only to relent with a snort. "Eventually. Maybe. After you had time to suffer and think about what a godsdamn idiot you'd been."

"That's fair."

"Hurry up and go," she said.

I went. Over hills of cracked and smoking ground, through a small forest of white trees, and finally into a small clearing where a silvery pool awaited.

This pool was called Galim. Five rivers twisted away from it, and dozens more branched out from those five farther downstream. The waters of the rivers were thick, rolling like molten silver, and each one corresponded to a certain area of the mortal realm below this one. They would bear you smoothly through the spaces in between the realms, typically spitting you out on the other side within moments.

These waterways were mainly utilized by lesser divine creatures or spirits. Only occasionally did gods such as myself use them—and only when traveling to places we weren't personally connected to. If not for my magic's currently unpredictable behavior, I would not have needed any river to carry me into my old kingdom.

I might not have needed it now, either, but I didn't want to risk it; traversing the realms by way of the waterways was less taxing than using one's own power.

I needed to conserve all the power I could for the night that lay ahead of me.

So I knelt, placing my palm flat against the water, and I ignored the warning building in my gut as I pictured the place I had once called home.