3. Ready

3

READY

N ight has passed and dawn is rising, as Lucca and I are shown to a beautiful sky-pinnacle in the Dark Winter Fae citadel. An apartment in the city, the three-floor abode is lovely in the rising light; frosted glass walls below give way to twisting, clear pinnacles with lofted rooms for taking in the city far above.

Curio and Clariss take their leave with promises to return after we’ve rested, and Lucca and I find ourselves alone. Our comforts have been provided for; elegant, warm clothing like Clariss’ are ready in a walk-in closet of ice that sparkles from the garments within. A sumptuous breakfast waits on a sculpted table of ice nearby.

Rather than chilly, the artful space is warm, the surfaces pleasant to touch, though they’re all made of ice. Decorated with the curling, fanciful sigils and script of the Dark Winter Fae, this place is a haven for those who seek solace. It’s solace we need now, as Lucca and I gaze around, heaving twin sighs.

Sad to the depths of our hearts, despite the beauty all around.

“What madness.” Lucca gives me a tight, wry smile now that we’re alone. He scrubs a hand through his ash blond hair, sinking to a sleek mink chaise as he unbuckles his tall Victorian boots. “To think that just earlier tonight we were in Rome, facing off with the Vampire Council…”

“It feels like a decade since then.” I sink to a seat beside him. There’s a tray of glossy ice on a sleek end table nearby; a bottle of some clear spirit and two glasses are on the tray, and Lucca pours for us. As he hands one to me, we don’t clink, just sip. As the sweet, unknown alcohol warms my insides, a sigh leaves me.

I slouch back against the settee—tears sliding down my cheeks.

“Hey, hey…” Lucca puts an arm around me, pulling me in as I cry. I cuddle against him, half in his lap now as I tuck my feet up on the chaise. My Vampire couture is sodden from the snowstorm, and so is Lucca’s. I pick at the wilted lace and taffeta as I cry, my heart heavy and my outlook bleak.

“I don’t know what to do. I feel so lost…” I say as Lucca comforts me, rubbing a hand on my shoulder.

“I don’t either.” He gives a weary chuckle as he kisses my temple, then sinks back against the chaise, curling me close. “Quinn was always the one with a thousand plots for any occasion. The rest of us are just… adrift, without him.”

“Do you think it’s a lost cause, trying to get him back?” I need to hear it from Lucca if he thinks we don’t have any chance of saving Quinn.

Lucca pauses a long moment, and it doesn’t bode well as he answers.

“I think we’re in the right place.” Lucca stares into an ornate fireplace before us in the living area, blazing with white-blue fire as it gives off a delicious heat, without melting the ice of the surrounding hearth. “If anyone knows how to get Quinn back, it seems like it’s Master Ilyov. The man sets all my alarms blazing, but everyone else seems to have confidence in his abilities. I have to trust it…and trust he knows what he’s doing to help us reclaim Quinn.”

“Could we try using the Music of the Spheres to get Quinn back?” It’s a thought I’ve had a hundred times since we lost Quinn to his mad Revenant state at the Colosseum in Rome .

As I wonder if we could even hope to wield the Music without him.

“Quinn is the one who tames the Music for us.” Lucca frowns now, though I can feel him wonder the same thing. “He’s the conductor of our orchestra, Ariana—the man has metaphysical abilities you and I can only dream of, and he experiments endlessly with his powers to get things right. I’m the heart of our magic, and you’re the soul of our power. Quinn’s the mastermind, though. Without him, we will lose control of it?—”

“And face disaster. Or worse.”

The voice that answered Lucca isn’t mine, as we both lunge off the chaise in a heartbeat. As we turn towards the sudden interruption, I see the owner of that gravelly, ancient voice.

Master Vasily Ilyov swirls into being inside our apartment from a whirl of ice and snow. He wears the same forbidding outfit he greeted us in at the fortress entrance as he stands before us now, commanding and ancient.

His pale blue eyes pierce us with disdain as he moves into the space, summoning a glass of ice into his hand from nothing. He makes a winter wind lift the alcohol bottle off the tray and bring it to him, pouring him a cup.

Sans invitation, Master Ilyov takes a seat in a sleek mink fur chair opposite Lucca and me. We reclaim our seats as Ilyov sips his drink, staring at the fire. It’s a long while before he sets his glass aside, pinning Lucca and me with his wintery gaze. His stare is beyond intense as he crosses his legs, folding his long hands in his lap. He laces his fingers as he stares at us.

“You two are beyond reckless.”

Master Ilyov’s statement makes my eyebrows lift.

Beside me, Lucca clears his throat.

“Excuse me?” Lucca says, as we both fight to not wither under Master Ilyov’s utter disdain.

“Three hearts, born of the same rash temperament. Love.” Ilyov snorts now as he says the word love like it’s a curse. “You three are quite lucky you didn’t come out of that gods-awful showing you did before the Vampire Council with anything worse than what Quinn got. The Music is nothing to trifle with, and certainly not anything to rush off and perform half-cocked when you know nothing about it. Not how it works, not what it is, and not how to shape and wield it. Performing miracles that get you cocky… until you crash and burn, caught in the Music’s tremendous backlash.”

“What do you know about the Music?” Lucca challenges now, as I fight to understand the subtext of Master Ilyov’s words, rather than let his berating chastisement undermine me.

Which it’s already doing, in my exhausted, broken-hearted state, as a void of blackness churns inside me.

“Much.” Master Ilyov snorts as he pins Lucca with his frigid stare. “I have been studying and performing feats of creationary magic with the Music for twenty thousand years, boy. I think I know what I’m doing…and you do not.”

“Can you help us?” I ask as I put my ego aside now to focus on what can be done for Quinn.

“Perhaps.” Master Ilyov gives me a considering gaze now, rather than just a look of dire contempt. “The question is: can you be helped?”

“What do you mean, can we be helped?” Lucca is almost hostile now, as Ilyov’s start to this conversation was so invasive and unforgiving.

“I mean,” Vasily Ilyov’s wintery gaze pins Lucca, “can you three allow yourselves to be helped? Or are you such rash idiots that you think you know everything about the world and how it works? And then blindly rush off to remake it without thinking about the consequences of your actions.”

“Believe me, we think about consequences.” Lucca bristles as he sits up straighter on the couch, seething with anger. “Quinn and I are the progeny of royalty; we’ve been commanders in war and leaders of our people for centuries. I think we know how to consider the repercussions of our actions.”

“You know about earthly consequences.” Master Ilyov is frigid as an ice cold aura boils off him now, full of glittering ice crystals. “To wield the Music of the Spheres, you need to understand celestial consequences, boy. And face those… and all the sublime or dire repercussions they bring.”

“What do you mean, celestial consequences?” I lean in, lacing my hands with my elbows on my knees as I fight to stay focused. I’m so deeply exhausted right now. This is too important, though, what we might learn about the Music of the Spheres.

And how we might control it to get Quinn back.

“Let us start at the beginning. You are ants.” Master Ilyov is abrupt, his voice disdainful.

“Ants?!” Lucca huffs before I set a hand to his knee, restraining his furious affront.

“Explain.” I nod for Master Ilyov to continue.

“You are ants, because that is how celestials see you,” Ilyov says with less coldness now that I’m trying to play ball, though it comes with a heaping load of condescension as he makes his point. “The immortal celestials, the Ascendants and Descendants, are not concerned with the lives of mortals. Even the strongest Fae, Dark Fae, and Vampires are still considered mortal by those sublime beings, simply because we can die. Ascendants and Descendants do not die, they return their energy to a state of their choosing after they disincorporate. Then they do something else with their unending lives, elsewhere. Therefore, you and I are only ants to them. Mortal, small, and expendable. We are chess pieces to get them what they want, and the three of you are being severely manipulated by a chess grandmaster. To get him what he wants—at your expense.”

“You know about the Gold Eyes,” I say, understanding part of what Master Ilyov is trying to tell us.

“Know about him?” Master Ilyov waves a hand at us as his pale eyes pierce me, frigid. “I feel his energy seething through all three of you, even Quinn, in his Revenant state. For the Gold Eyes was all three of your Maker, draining you and leaving you to survive or die, and awaken as Dark Fae. It made you, it wants something from you, and it’s manipulating all three of you to get whatever it wants. If you ever wish to gain true control of your magic and your destiny, you three will have to learn how to break free of the Gold Eyes’ bloodline curse. The curse of its own blood that it fed you, to awaken you to its darkness and trap you in its power and agenda in the Night.”

“Can you help us break free of the Gold Eyes’ bloodline and influence?” I ask now, as I understand what Master Ilyov is suggesting.

Even as something dark inside me snarls at him—in rage.

“The question is… will he let you go?” Vasily Ilyov raises a silver-white eyebrow at me now, as if he felt that sudden rage inside me. As black rainbows heave from me, flowing around the room in my hope and trepidation, he watches it, evaluating.

Waving a hand at my display of magic, his intense eyes return to me.

“For even now,” he says, “the magic that has been hellspawned inside you cannot help but do his bidding. The curse of your bloodline is that it wants to gain power for the Gold Eyes, because that is who created it. It desires to do his will and never break loose of his tether. Because he made it, and he controls it still. Free will does not exist in this equation—not yet. Not until you can master the Music of the Spheres, break free of your Maker, and create your own bloodline and, therefore, your own destiny. Which I can teach you. If his influence over you is not too strong for you three to be taught.”

“What do we have to do, to receive your teaching?” Lucca is strangely quiet now, as I see the I’ll go to hell and back for those I love part of him surface. He focuses on the task at hand now, rather than continue to be furious at Master Ilyov’s demeaning manner.

Vasily Ilyov regards him then. Cocking his head, his icy gaze drills into Lucca—and I feel Lucca shiver beside me, as if Ilyov sent one of his truth-serum lances right through Lucca’s brain, reading something about him.

“Perhaps you can be taught.” Vasily Ilyov's voice is quiet. “If there is hope for you, then there is hope for Quinn. Very well. We begin tonight at sundown. Let me caution you, however, that love is your weakness, your enemy, and your power. The three of you love rashly and with abandon, which is what the Gold Eyes gave you in its bloodline when you awoke as Dark Fae. But you have yet to find true love —which is divine in all forms. I sense you have had a taste of it… it gives you courage now, when otherwise you would fracture and fall at everything you are up against. But I warn you, this process will not be easy—especially for you, Prince of the Summer Fae. Because what you and Quinn have that Ariana does not is hubris . You believe your history on this earth has made you into something. It has not. It has made you egotistical . You must divorce yourself from that and from everything you think you know if you wish to start again. And create real power… the likes of which you never even imagined in your wildest dreams.”

Master Ilyov’s speech has me and Lucca staring at him in silence now. As Lucca sits up straight on the couch, he says, “I can do this. I swear it.”

“Perhaps.” Master Ilyov’s icy gaze drills into him, making Lucca shiver as his eyelashes flicker.

As Vasily Ilyov pins me with his frigid gaze next, I feel his icicle-spear truth serum spike through my mind. I open to it, letting him find whatever he’s looking for. As I feel his dire lance search through me, I feel him settle in every part of my body. I feel ice cold, yet somehow glowing warm, all at once.

Like being warmed by the brightest sun on the coldest winter day.

“ You are the one who will pull this together,” Master Vasily Ilyov says. His truth-reading departs, though it leaves a flavor of peppermint, ice storms, and sunlight breathing all through me now. “You are the one with the soul for this endeavor, Animante Dark Fae. For I feel within you a most stalwart nature; a dedication to the truth, always, even when it is most hidden inside us. Only by uncovering every bit of that truth can we find the true artistry of ourselves. And awaken from the dream into reality.”

As Master Ilyov speaks, I think for the second time today of that alternate Vision of a Knight painting Quinn donated to the Pitti Palace’s auction. It feels like ages ago, but Ilyov’s words remind me of the sleeping female knight in that portrait; surrounded by a darkly angelic Vampire and a demonically bright Fae, I see now how those two beings resemble Quinn and Lucca.

The knight in the painting was wearing armor, but I have the strangest feeling now that if one had removed that bright helm and shining plate, she would have looked like me. As Ilyov pins me with his icy intensity, I know I’m the knight, fighting to wake up from the dream into reality with my two celestials beside me.

Because this reality the Gold Eyes is orchestrating for us is the dream. A nightmare I need to fight to wake up from, if we’re ever going to discover the truth of ourselves and take control of our destiny.

At last.

“I will wake, out of the dream,” I say now, knowing with the deepest part of my power that I’ve spoken true.

“Hold to that, when all seems to crumble around you.” Master Ilyov is almost compassionate now as he watches me. “You must remember: the only thing that is crumbling is the dream. When you wake, a whole new world will surround you. You may shape that world to the celestial song of your spirit, rather than to your mortal will… which will only ever bring dominion and ruin. Are you ready to begin?”

“I am ready,” I say as a sensation of rightness moves all through me. Something else protests deep inside me now, though—gnashing its teeth as it floods me with darkness. It makes midnight rainbows whirl around me again, conflicted about my answer. Though Ilyov watches my power intently, my answer seems to satisfy him. At last, he nods.

His icy gaze drilling into Lucca, seeking an answer.

“Are you ready?” Master Ilyov’s voice is cold iron, as he challenges Lucca next.

“I am ready.” Lucca nods as he grips my hand on the couch, stalwart. “Whatever you’ve got, throw it at us. We will master it and emerge victorious over the Gold Eyes, and get Quinn back in the process. ”

“The nature of your words tells me how little you understand,” Ilyov bites then as he shakes his head. “But your heart-oath will do. I will tell you this much: rest for the day and prepare yourselves. For you must make ready to unlearn everything you think you know about the world, yourself, and magic. We will start from the beginning, and you will be like ants. You will learn to see the world in a new way, as ants do. And then you will begin to move mountains… starting from a single grain of sand.”

With that, Master Ilyov rises. He does not say goodbye, merely waves a hand and whirls out into his wintery winds of diamond-fine snow and ice. Nothing is left but a precipitous drop in temperature where he stood. As the blazing fire in the hearth re-warms the room, Lucca and I stand. Draining his alcohol, Lucca sets his glass on a table nearby, then rubs my arms with his hands.

“Are you ready for this?” he asks, as he gazes deep into my eyes.

“No. And yes,” I say honestly, because everything about what we’re going to do sets me on-edge.

I know it’s the path we must take, however, because deep inside, the part of my magic that came from the Gold Eyes growls. It seethes with a bitter fury as my dark rainbows cascade around me, that I will have to subject myself to Master Ilyov’s teachings to help me unlearn and relearn my magic.

That dark part of me tells me I don’t need Ilyov’s help. It says I’m already strong and that I should just keep going, that I should learn how to wield the Music on my own to get Quinn back.

I know that part of me comes from the one person who’s manipulating us, though. It’s telling me to do things his way; to do what he wants us to do, to mature our power and return Quinn.

So we can do whatever agenda he has for us later.

“Can you feel him, deep inside you? The Gold Eyes?” I glance up at Lucca as this dire sensation fills me.

“He’s telling me to quit,” Lucca murmurs, as something strange comes into his eyes, knowing what I’m asking. “He’s telling me I’m better than this. Stronger. Able to do it my way, if I move forward without Ilyov’s help. My ego is flaring, Ariana… telling me I’m a god. And I can do this on my own if I just have you at my side.”

“Me, too,” I whisper, fearing what the Gold Eyes’ cursed blood in our veins is already doing to us. We haven’t even started yet, and it’s already telling us to quit. To step away, and leave all this with Master Ilyov unexplored, untried.

Undone—as we rise in Staphylogenes’ agenda only.

Doing his bidding to the end.