Chapter 26

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

T he wind blew harshly through the Heliacal Courtyard where we all stood crammed into ranks of four divisions, the Raincarvers to our right, Flamebringers beyond them and Stonebreakers to our left.

I leaned against a carved bull depicting Taurus at the back of the line-up, with Moraine and Dalia stationed like a pair of demons on either side of me. Their eyes were flicking over the assembled Fae while the Reapers who were standing on the platform closest to the warmth of the Keep droned on and on about propriety and the ancient rules of this place.

"Any who cross the lines of bloodshed beneath this roof will answer to the stars and reap the fury of their justice," the Grand Maester boomed, fury lining every word.

I supposed that meant I was damned then as I had now successfully carried out four assassinations on my prince's command. The list he had given me was thinning so much that I might have to ask him for more names just to keep my evenings active.

An explosion of brown hair shifted in the space to my right and I turned to look at the girl from last night as she caught the wall to stop herself from falling thanks to the shove of the big bastard beyond her.

Her desires stabbed at me as I probed for them. Revenge was pretty prevalent, along with seeing all those who doubted her fall to ruin, a need for glory…

I sighed and looked away. You and me both, Everest.

Of course I'd had to look into her after our late night rendezvous in the dark. Sharing secrets wasn't a strong suit of mine – the best secret keepers were the dead after all, but killing in this place didn't come without consequence and sufficient risk. Which the Reapers were clearly keen to remind us of in this frigid stone courtyard regardless of the blustering snow that swirled down on us.

The Flamebringers were melting whatever came close to them, the heat of their masses providing a touch of relief for those of us standing close enough to claim it, though as the snow melted, it was slowly soaking them through. Earth was faring little better and the Raincarvers were letting the rain drench them, looking like they enjoyed the touch of it. I shuddered at the thought while relishing the luxury of an air shield which I had constructed to protect the three of us from the blizzard. The little shelf of snow that was now piling up a foot above our heads made the smug bitch in me preen as many of our comrades shot jealous glances our way. We'd only been taught the magic a few days prior and not many had gotten a grip on it so quickly as my sisters and me.

"Just last night, we discovered a murder mere feet from the entrance to the Vault of Sky," the Grand Maester went on, fury in every word and my eyes once again trailed to Everest Arcadia from Castelorain. There was little to discover about her apart from the fact that she was sired by one of the most fearsome commanders of Cascada, and there had been far more to find about all his other sons and daughters than her. I'd been in Castelorain once, a year ago. The land we had stolen from the town was quite beautiful and had made for a decent addition to Ironwraith's mass. Did she remember? Well, of course she would remember us stealing half of the town she grew up in, but did she remember me being there? I was notorious enough that my name would have been noted in any reports on the battle so it was likely she knew. But still, she hadn't struck at me there in the dark. Was it from fear? Or was it something else?

Everest found my gaze on her and didn't flinch from returning it. She was striking to look at, not least because she was dressed in a way which screamed ‘look at me' with seashells clinging to every seam of her deep blue garments but because her expression screamed ‘stay the fuck away' in complete contrast to it.

Dalia turned to see what I was looking at and I let my eyes slip seamlessly to a huge warrior three rows ahead of Everest.

"Do you think it'd be wet to fuck one of them?" she murmured.

"Wet?" I questioned.

"Yeah, like, would they splash you in the throes of passion and just squirt all over the place?"

I snorted a little too loudly, causing a ripple of heads to twist our way. A silencing shield would have been nice but we were forbidden from casting them when in the company of the Reapers.

The Grand Maester threw me a reproachful glower over the heads of my peers and I bowed my head in apology, not looking up again until he went on.

"On this occasion, a witness – their account confirmed via Cyclops interrogation – saw the murder play out and so we can remind you of the consequences of desecrating our sacred Awakening grounds with your feuds and bloodshed."

I resisted the urge to look at Everest again, though I could feel her bronze eyes boring into the side of my face. Instead I watched and waited, wondering if we were about to witness what happened when a Reaper betrayed their own rules.

I almost chastised myself for my own idiotic thoughts as they dragged a Fae out of the ranks of Flamebringers, her cries of protest echoing all over the courtyard.

Even her own kind fell silent as she was dragged up before us and heaved onto the platform with a whip of air magic.

"Kala Emberthorn, you have been found guilty of murdering a fellow neophyte within the walls of Never Keep," the Grand Maester boomed, her shrieks of denial ignored entirely as a rack was lifted onto the stage behind her.

I shifted my weight, my gaze roaming the hooded figures in gold for the three who were truly guilty of the crime, but I gave up on seeking them out as Kala's screams grew in pitch.

"They should burn her," Moraine suggested, amusement colouring her words. "See how much the Flamebringer likes fire when it gets that close."

I smiled darkly, but it felt painted onto my lips, the injustice of this act leaving an ashy taste in my gut even if the Fae being put to death was nothing but a random fireborn bitch.

My expression remained unmoving as the Reapers deftly strapped each of the Flamebringer's limbs to a different portion of the rack and I watched in silence as the vines leashing her began to pull in opposite directions.

Kala's screams grew more frantic, pleas for help from her fellow conscripts falling on hardened expressions, though I noted a few of the Flamebringers seemed to be struggling to watch this play out. They had clasped hands, one girl with tears silently rolling down her cheeks. But they did nothing to stop it.

The snap of bones dislocating and breaking rent the sky apart and many Fae dropped their eyes to avoid watching the rest of it. I didn't though. I kept my gaze fixed on Kala as her limbs were torn free like the wings of a trapped butterfly. I listened to her pitchy screams until they finally fell silent and I watched as the Reapers hastily gathered up her broken pieces and retreated without another word.

Were they going to fix her back together the way they had The Cobra? Would they be able to use the secrets of their healing magic to bring a Fae back from that? And if they did, would it be for the benefit of whatever foul entity I had witnessed in their chambers before?

Questions, questions, but no answers.

All I knew for certain was that the Reapers were keeping secrets far more destructive than the power of healing, and if they did so under the guidance of the stars themselves, then I was afraid of what that meant for all of us who followed so piously in their paths.

I didn't look to Everest as the crowd began to depart but I sank into her desires once more, shoving aside those bolder needs and finding the slight twinge which indicated she required the use of a latrine.

A sharp yank had a gasp spilling from her lips and I turned to file out of the courtyard casually, catching sight of her wild hair disappearing through the crowd as she shoved her way out in hunt of somewhere to take a piss.

"I'll meet you in the Galaseum," I told Dalia and Moraine, offering them no further explanation and peeling away from the crowd who were all headed towards the Great Stair to join our scheduled lecture on aural illusions.

A few other Fae were hurrying towards the closest latrines and I huffed out an irritated breath, yanking on their needs and making them piss themselves before they could get there. One guy wailed in horror as he shit his pants and if it wasn't for the stench, I would have laughed.

Leaving them to run for their Vaults and get themselves cleaned up, I threw open the door to the latrines and casually moved along them, kicking open each door until I found the last one locked.

The sound of someone taking a piss came from within and I folded my arms as I leaned back against the wall to wait for her.

After another moment, Everest ripped the door open, her right fist coated in ice, the other bearing a stunning dagger, both of which she brandished at me.

"I'm not brawling with you until you wash your hands," I drawled, constructing both a silencing shield around us and placing a barrier of air magic at the door to make certain our conversation remained private.

"You did that," she accused, seeming to realise that the desperate need for a piss had originated with me.

I gave her a flat smile. "Succubus means sex to so many fools that they forget our power is actually desire. Lust is great fun and all, but there's nothing like making some asshole jump off of a bridge because he desperately wishes he could fly."

Everest glared for three seconds before her lips twitched, "Have you truly done that?"

I shrugged.

She smiled in full, though it was a savage kind of thing. "I know someone whose greatest desire is to shove their head right up the ass of their father – do you think you could make him act on it?"

The image almost summoned a smile from me too. "Most Fae don't like where they end up when they start asking me to flex my gifts. I'd consider who you're talking to before begging me to perform circus tricks."

Everest assessed me but it wasn't with the blazing fear so many got when they blinked their way through my allure and realised they were making fools of themselves. No, she wasn't blinded by me or what I was which suggested she had taken the time to look at me for long enough and gotten close often enough to be able to shake off the desire which made idiots of so many.

"So," she said, sheathing her dagger as if it was clear we weren't going to be needing weapons for this interaction and heading to the basin to wash her hands. "That was pretty fucked up out there."

"You have no taste for executions?"

"I've never bathed in the blood of my victims if that's what you're asking. Or danced naked on the corpses of my enemies. Or used the blood of others to dabble in the dark magic of ether."

"You've been asking about me," I accused.

"The rumours are rife – there's a new one every day in the refectory. I heard you even…" she trailed off but I had to hear it now.

"Go on. I haven't heard a fresh one in a while. Maybe you'll surprise me and land on something true."

Everest turned to face me, raising her chin and I wasn't sure if it was meant to show me that she wasn't afraid or remind me that she was over a head taller than I was at my total of five feet. Neither thing mattered much to me.

"They say you kill the Fae you fuck in sacrifice to the magic you claim from the essence of the world and…"

She trailed off as I yawned widely. "Yes, yes and the men I use for such nefarious gain are only too willing to be sacrificed as such because a night between my thighs is well worth dying for."

Again, Everest almost smiled and I blinked as I realised we were exchanging small talk instead of focusing on the point of this interaction.

"Tell me what you know of the Reapers' secrets," I demanded, my voice losing any semblance of friendliness.

"You first." Everest folded her arms and I noted the scar marring her left hand. I'd heard a few whispers about that injury while digging for information on her.

I considered her. She'd already shown her hand when admitting she had no one to discuss this with and I supposed it didn't hurt to offer up my knowledge in exchange for hers. It wasn't as if I planned to act on any of this anyway. I was simply…curious.

I recounted what I had witnessed within the Reapers' quarters and didn't fail to note the flare of interest my mention of their secret passages awakened in her. In turn, Everest told me of screams in the dark and a similar encounter with an unknown entity in the caverns far beneath the Keep.

We were both going to be late to the Galaseum but every word from her lips only awakened a deeper desire for the truth in me.

"This isn't the kind of secret which can be shared with others," I warned her and she scowled at me.

"I'm not a fucking idiot."

"Glad to hear it. So we keep this between us and…" I tilted my head, inspecting her as the obvious answer occurred to me, but the words stalled on my lips. She was a Raincarver. My sworn enemy. One day in the not-so-distant future, we would be standing on opposite sides of a battlefield, hungering for each other's deaths.

"This isn't an alliance," Everest said firmly, as though she were thinking the same thing.

"Obviously," I replied dryly. "You don't trust me and I don't trust you. But we can hold each other to this secret if you aren't afraid of a little blood?"

Everest sucked in a sharp breath, clearly understanding what I was offering and she shifted slightly into a fighting position as I took a hidden knife from my waistband and pricked my finger on the lethal tip.

I offered her the blade next and she hesitantly took it, clearly second guessing this choice as she restrained from cutting into her skin.

"What do you plan on binding me to?" she asked.

"We will swear not to kill one another by any means while we reside here at Never Keep – that includes selling each other out to the Reapers by the way – if one of us breaks it, our blood will fester in our veins and rot will claim our flesh."

"That's so poetic," Everest said lightly, pressing the blade to her finger, but hesitating again without drawing blood. "Make it not to kill or harm," she said. "That way you won't have to worry about me locking you up and torturing you."

I scoffed at the suggestion, nodding in agreement as she punctured the work around in my plan, leaving me a little impressed that she had seen it considering she clearly knew nothing about blood magic or the use of Ether in general.

She pricked her finger and I plucked the blade from her grip, our combined blood glistening on the metal.

I yanked the sleeve of my leathers back then smeared the blood onto my finger and used it to paint the jagged S-shaped rune of Eihwaz for trust followed by the large X of Gebo for building a relationship against my skin. Then I called on the dark power of Ether and summoned the bond into place, muttering the words which would seal it.

Everest gritted her teeth as I took her hand in mine and shoved her sleeve back too, repeating the process.

"And may our blood sour and flesh rot should we act against this deal," I finished darkly.

Everest sucked in a sharp breath as the runes painted onto her skin in bright blood blackened then sank into her flesh until they couldn't be seen at all.

She eyed me warily, but I simply hid my knife and strode from the room, letting my magic shatter as I left. I'd find her again when I needed her and in the meantime, it looked like I'd just made a pact with the enemy. May the stars have mercy on my villainous soul.

My invitation came, not as a gold-leafed, handwritten card like the one I stole from Cassandra's chambers to read for myself, but as a scrawled note in the claws of a raven. It was nothing more than a summons to attend the royal event as the property of the prince in question.

I crushed it in my fist as I took my seat in the Galaseum a week later, raising my chin and saying nothing while Moraine and Dalia gossiped like a pair of old fish wives to my left.

"We leave for Wrathborn tonight," I grunted at them, ignoring the curious looks they shot my way. A spit of land was being sent to ferry those with invitations back to the palace for the wedding and I wasn't going to attend without them regardless of whether or not their names had been noted on my instructions to return. They didn't need to know that.

"Were you actually invited or are we just gate crash-" Dalia began but Moraine elbowed her hard enough to make her cough out a breath and double over with a curse which sounded like it contained the word bitch.

I ignored them. Would I have gone regardless of Dragor's instructions on the matter? I frowned out at the Stonebreakers opposite us as I considered it. But no, I wouldn't have. Was I pleased that he had deigned to request my presence at the last minute? No, I couldn't say I was. I both wanted to see him with a feral desperation and despised the idea of ever having to endure his eyes on me again.

Cayde took his seat just before the Reapers arrived, his wings blessedly not present for once, though his thigh butted up against mine obnoxiously.

I ground my teeth, resisting the urge to thump his thigh hard enough to give him a dead leg and force him away from me.

"So is there a dress requirement, or-" Moraine began but I snapped my fingers at her, quieting her instantly.

"You treat your friends like dogs," Cayde commented as if his opinion had been called upon.

"They're not dogs; they're wolves. And they require a firm hand to keep them in line – me included."

"I was under the impression you answered to no one."

"Almost no one," I agreed, thinking of Dragor.

"I was invited to the wedding," he added as the silence dragged. "In case you thought I wasn't aware you would be attending."

I pursed my lips.

No doubt his family name warranted the invite - even if he was technically a Sinfair like me. Oh how I despised the nepotism rife within our kingdom.

"This silent treatment bullshit is growing really old," he drawled when I ignored him.

"If I have anything to say to you then I will do so," I sneered. "But I'm currently here to focus on whatever it is that the Reapers have to say."

As if my words had summoned them, the Reapers stepped out into the lowered area at the centre of the Galaseum.

"The Skyforger neophytes designated to take leave for the haloed moon event are to leave now," the Grand Maester said without looking at the other elementals, the instruction clear even if the timing was a surprise.

I pushed to my feet, pressing my hand to Dalia's shoulder and shoving her back down into her seat when she tried to take the lead.

More Reapers appeared at the exit to escort us out and I had to assume the change to the official plan was so that the other elementals couldn't interfere with the arrangements. Any information which might have been passed to their armies would have now been rendered useless too.

We collected our things – my luggage consisting of my fur cloak and my long sword – then headed back out through the Night Gate where the narrow isle of Rackmere was floating beyond the jutting spike of land.

I stomped through the thick snow, squinting as fat flakes were blasted into my face by the rush of air magic which Rackmere's turbines were kicking out thanks to the Wind Weavers commanding them, to keep the lump of dirt and stone airborne.

The stolen land had once belonged to the Fae of Avanis, its quarter mile of rugged earth coated in swathes of lush plants which I had never seen growing wild in Stormfell. Deep purple blooms fit for a tropical landscape looked even more out of place in this backdrop of snow and ice.

I schooled my features against any reaction as I found General Imona standing there with a skeleton crew of soldiers, awaiting our arrival.

Predictably, her sneer grew as her narrowed eyes fell on me but I gave her nothing of the contempt I felt in reply, simply bowing my head like a good lieutenant, as if her distaste for me had gone entirely unnoticed.

"We will be travelling at speed," she barked as the hundred or so of us selected for the questionable esteem of attending this event filed onto the island over a narrow plank of wood above the three-hundred foot drop to the beach below. "This is not a comfort cruise or sightseeing excursion. Find your places within the hold and stay there until we arrive. We don't need any of you getting underfoot."

My sisters in arms stayed close as we led the pack towards the near unnoticeable building at the centre of the small island, the door carved into a lump of dark rock which was coated almost entirely in the vines holding those purple blooms.

I pulled the door to the hold wide and took the steps beyond, heading down into the rock itself, descending within the island until the floor levelled out and a wide space opened up before us.

Low lighting illuminated the rows of bunks which clung to the walls, bolted down and dressed with thin blankets and thinner pillows. Windows punctured the walls every ten paces, allowing a restricted view of the world beyond them through the rocky underbelly of the island we rode within.

I kept going until we arrived at the prow of Rackmere, tugging my thick cloak off and tossing it onto the top bunk which sat closest to the window with the view out of the front before taking a seat on the lower bed.

Moraine and Dalia claimed the one on the other side of the window, silently sitting too and we waited until Rackmere jolted into motion.

I said nothing as the snow and ice gave way to iron grey waters, The Waning Lands passing by beneath us far faster than they ever did when we rode upon the battle isles such as Ironwraith.

Rackmere and those like it were intended for speed and stealth – transporting important Fae or spying on the enemies. As such, they were vulnerable, far easier to knock from the sky or overwhelm and often targeted, brought down by the other nations.

Travelling upon one of them was always far riskier than boarding a Sky Trader or Battle Island, but there was a thrill to the speed of their travel which I never grew tired of.

But this time, I didn't pay attention to the way my gut lurched at the sudden propulsion of the air turbines or stare at the land speeding by far below us. I simply let my eyes fall out of focus and tried not to think of the piercing blue eyes which would be waiting to inspect me the moment I disembarked, because I had never been able to hide anything from Dragor.

For once I didn't insist upon taking the lead as we disembarked Rackmere, taking my time fastening my cloak and lingering by the window looking out at the view where the spires of Wrathborn Palace pierced the sky.

Dalia and Moraine remained silent and I chose to ignore the burn of Cayde's eyes on me before he disembarked among the swarm of high-born conscripts who were no doubt headed straight to their families to begin primping and preening for the royal event.

I had systematically shredded the note Dragor had sent me demanding my presence, but I had each word memorised.

"I'm required to present myself before the prince," I told the others as I fastened the clasp of my fur cloak, avoiding their penetrating gazes in case there was anything more than curiosity in their eyes. They knew me too damn well.

A pause.

"I left a set of throwing daggers behind when we packed for Never Keep," Moraine said eventually. "And Dalia forgot her soul. We'd better go and grab them while we have the chance."

Dalia sniggered delightedly at the remark and I twitched a grin.

"I never knew you had a soul in the first place, Dalia," I said lightly as we headed for the exit together.

"It's a ragged, twisted thing – easily forgotten when there is so much cunning, talent and wickedness to pack as a priority," Dalia agreed. "That's why I have no space for beauty either – we can't all wield our faces as a weapon so masterfully as you, V."

I glanced at Dalia's square jaw and hard features, wondering if I should tell her that I found far more beauty in her face than my own. Sometimes, my skin felt like a mask painted into place by the masterful hand of my Order form. Yes, there was power in the way I looked, but I could never take it off, never shift like other Fae and return to a body more my own. I missed the promise of the scar which Dragor had seen wiped from my skin – at least I would have earned that part of my appearance. There would have been a brutal kind of truth to it.

We fell silent as we climbed the rough steps and emerged on the lush land which topped Rackmere. General Imona stood sneering at us as we passed her by, but I simply bowed my head like a respectful lieutenant and kept walking.

Rackmere had docked just outside the city, the floating island now tethered to a set of sheer metal stairs which allowed those riding it to disembark and return to the ground via a flight of over four thousand stairs. The alternative was leaping and using air magic or a Windrider to make the journey far faster. Depending on the level of magic a Fae possessed, some weaker conscripts did opt for the stairs, but that was never going to be me.

I didn't waste time on goodbyes, not needing to address the fact that I had dragged my friends along on this expedition despite knowing there would be nothing for them to do here. They weren't invited to attend the wedding – hell, I didn't even know if I was invited to attend it, only that my presence was required at once.

My shoulder blades itched distractingly as I moved to the edge of Rackmere, the wind whipping my hair back from my face and my lungs filling with the crisp air of what I wanted to call home. And yet…this didn't feel like relishing the beauty of my homeland and bathing in the feeling of belonging. For the first time in a long time it felt like a cage just waiting to close around me.

I spread my arms wide, the rush of air magic in my veins enough to banish my sense of unease for a few moments at least and I let myself plummet from the edge in a rush of exhilaration.

Snow had come for Wrathbane, frost glittering on the white towers of the palace and glazing the sprawling city in sparkling white and silver. The sun was high in the bright blue sky, not a cloud to diminish the sprawling view of the mountain ranges and frozen lakes.

I sped across the city, finally one of the many bodies hurtling through the air above the rest after having watched those Awakened Fae with envy for my entire life and dreaming of joining them in the sky.

When I finally gave in to the demand of gravity, the weight of my own flesh seemed to triple with the cloying tension in my soul.

My boots touched down on the pristine cobbles right outside the palace gates where the snow had been cleared and the royal guards stood to attention with spears in hand. There were far more of them posted around the walls than usual, no doubt because of the event due to take place the next day. Terrorists from the opposing nations in the war often liked to target celebrations such as these. I'd struck in the midst of several myself, once tripling the body count at a lavish funeral in Cascada and removing an entire family line from the board of players.

I pushed my windswept hair out of my eyes then fell utterly still as I found myself already face to face with the man who owned me.

Prince Dragor looked even more captivating than usual, dressed in his court finest, a high-collared white jacket embroidered with silver decals clinging to his muscular form.

"Your progress is to be commended, lieutenant," he said in a bored tone. "I was informed that you were among the first to leap from the Pinnacle."

"I was," I agreed, my voice coming out on a ragged breath and giving away a scrap of my roiling feelings as I looked to him. I didn't miss the weight he placed on the words ‘among the first.' He was displeased that I hadn't leapt alone and I instantly wished I hadn't brought Dalia and Moraine back here with me.

A loud crash almost made me flinch and I looked to the guards on my left as one of them fell back among the others, apologies falling from his lips for approaching me. I hadn't even noticed that he'd been closing in on me, my focus so firmly fixed on Dragor that the rest of the world had simply fallen away.

"The Sky Witch is off limits," Prince Dragor snarled, clearly the force behind the man's fall. "Imagine there is a wall placed around her which none can scale or the next time your head will make a far more forceful contact with the flagstones."

The guard stammered apologies, dropping to his knees but Dragor had already turned away, a sharp incline of his head beckoning me to follow.

And so I did.

I remained a pace behind, silent as I trailed him into the palace, taking the familiar turns towards his own wing, heading closer to my apartment within it with each step.

My mouth grew dry as I watched the back of his pale-haired head, hunting the side of his profile for some inkling of his mood. Of all the Fae I had ever known, I'd never struggled to get a grasp on any of them the way I did with Dragor. His desires were multifaceted, wants and needs tangled up into cravings for so many things that it was like trying to read a group of people instead of just one. It made him unpredictable, capricious, volatile. I couldn't play him the way I could so many others and that was no doubt why I was so intoxicated by him.

We made it to the door of my apartment and I swallowed thickly as he paused there, his hand reaching out to brush the wood.

I stilled, my pulse hammering, my gaze sliding to the door, the taste of lust coiling on my tongue. Not my own. His.

Did he want to open that door? Had he summoned me back here just to make use of my flesh before discarding me for the woman who had been deigned so much more worthy of a place at his side?

I wasn't a fool. Never had I so much as imagined the ridiculous fantasy of him making a bride of me. No, even in my wildest daydreams about the two of us, the best I had considered was to be an open secret. The kind no one spoke of but everyone knew about. Something of a scandal but nothing worse than countless others in his kind of position took part in regularly.

I was just the fool who had assumed he would remain as he was, without a wife at all. His sister and brothers had all been married off far younger after all, in their early twenties for the most part. Dragor was in his thirty-fourth year and undoubtably the prize of the family bloodline as the one most likely to claim the crown from his father when the time came. But he had never shown an inclination to wed or provide heirs of his own.

Not that he would have shared any such information with me, I reminded myself.

Was I so fucking na?ve? Had I really compiled all those moments alone with him, his body too close to my own, his breath against my ear as he whispered dark commands for me, into something they had never been? He had kissed me though. I had tasted the sin on his lips and felt his hand between my thighs, his fingers slick with my arousal as he forced me to come for him so easily.

My skin prickled at the memory of the words he had hurled at me while giving me that orgasm, the accusation, the…jealousy?

I had been wholly offended by the insinuation at the time, determined to prove my loyalty to him upon my return to his company. But as we lingered by my door, the place where he had brought me to ruin for him and spat furious words in my face about Cayde, I couldn't help but remember being pinned beneath Cayde's weight just days ago, his mouth on mine, cock driving against me through the confines of our clothes.

I hated to admit it in the face of that spectacular rejection, but I wouldn't have stopped there. The hurt and betrayal I felt over Dragor's betrothal had lit a fire in me which I had wanted to pour fuel all over and let it burn me alive.

"There is someone who wishes to meet you," Dragor said finally, his hand falling from my door, his lust tempered by another desire, one which was hard to pinpoint but burned through him with a feral need.

I didn't dare pry too deeply with my gifts despite my curiosity. I was never certain of how aware other Fae might be of my power when I started clawing at their desires. Certainly once they were within my grasp, very few fought free of it or even acknowledged what was happening to them until they were released. But I wasn't fool enough to try and toy with my prince that way.

Dragor led me deeper into his wing of the palace, beyond his offices and reception rooms, past all of the places where I had ever been granted access before.

Guards bowed as we went and I noted the way they kept their gazes from us. At first I thought it was some mark of respect to the prince's privacy, but as I caught a spike of lust followed by the desperate desire to not be noticed from a guard who peeked out at me, I realised they had been commanded to avert their eyes. Did that mean Dragor didn't want them falling prey to my spell?

My curiosity was dampened instantly as we turned into a grand reception room where a lone woman sat in a chair akin to a throne, sipping on a cup of tea with her little finger extended in a white satin glove.

I fell still while Dragor moved to greet her, my insides crawling with suspicion as the deep blue eyes of this pampered and clearly privileged stranger roamed over me.

No introductions were made, but as I took in her extravagantly designed blue dress, the copious jewels clinging to her neck, ears and wrists and the air of utter superiority which rolled from her, I was left with little doubt as to who she must be. But I was at a complete loss as to why I had been gifted a private meeting with her.

The doors were closed firmly behind me, leaving the three of us alone in the room with ceilings so high a small tree could have lived happily beneath them. There was a mural coating all three of the walls within my eyeline and no doubt the one at my back too, depicting the royal family from generations gone by, flying among the clouds and the stars like the fates' chosen few who we were all raised to believe in so firmly. The words of the Elysium Prophecy, known by all to foretell the end of the war had been painted within the clouds themselves.

War of the four, divided and torn asunder.

Flame, sky, rock and sea collide,

While the stars bless the valiant souls of battle.

Seek the Void, for it shall guide the victor to their glorious path,

A weapon of purity, and the gift of null.

In a web of lies and cruelty, fate will favour the ruthless storm of destiny,

And a bountiful empire shall be reborn under one all-powerful rule,

Garnering the fortune and favour of the almighty sky.

"She does steal the breath somewhat," the woman observed, her eyes roaming over me critically, appreciatively, appraisingly.

Dragor smiled slightly, taking the seat on the other side of the small table and pouring himself a cup of tea. I was so surprised to see him doing so without the aid of a servant that it took me another moment to notice that no cup lay waiting for me and that there was no other chair present either. The round table between them was clearly large enough to seat four however, and I got the distinct impression that the additional seating which might usually have lain there had been removed in advance of this meeting.

Uncertain if I should say anything, I opted for silence and assessed this woman just as she was assessing me.

One look and I hated her. Hated every single thing about her. Not because I was the idiotic type of bitch who blamed the other woman for the man's betrayal. No – she wasn't to blame for Dragor choosing her. I hated her because she was everything I wasn't. Everything I could never be and all the reasons why it should have been so obvious that no matter what promises Dragor stole from my lips, it never would have been me sitting up there at his side. I was a creature intended for the shadows, never the limelight. A weapon to be wielded, a threat to be made, a body to make use of. I was no wife of a prince.

But this woman was. From the crown of braided mahogany hair on her head to the upturned tilt of her too small nose and the slightly pursed look of distaste which appeared to sit permanently on her painted pink lips, she was precisely what I hated about the aristocracy.

This one clearly hadn't ever taken the trouble to train for battle, no doubt having siblings to take up the mantle of conscription while she was pruned like a delicate flower in preparation of fresh buds. There weren't many families wealthy enough to pre-select heirs for the role of marriage and childbirth, but those who could flaunted it. This woman was all soft where it counted for in skills of bloodshed, but hard as a diamond point where it came to the games of the court. I could see it in her murky brown eyes as they roamed over me. People like her saw everyone else as pieces on a chessboard, most of us pawns, some of us knights but none really mattering so much as the king and his queen.

"Turn around," she commanded, raising a single finger and spinning it as if I couldn't understand the plainly spoken words.

"No," I replied just as calmly, my sugar sweet smile causing her to blink as it contrasted with my words.

Dragor's lips twitched in clear amusement and when his fiancé turned to him for backup he only shrugged, obviously disinclined to intervene.

The woman exhaled irritably and I arched a brow, surprised by her boldness. I'd never known a woman to outwardly show her irritation toward the prince aside from me.

"I don't know your name," I said flatly, not that I cared to.

Again, the woman looked to Dragor, again he left her to fend for herself.

"I am Alexandrius Collingsdale. And I will be your queen one day. Were you not taught how to address your bet-"

"The king still lives and is yet to select a successor among his children," I cut her off, not caring to hear her sneering at me. "It is treason to speculate upon his decision or to conspire to influence it."

Alexandrius gave me a crocodile's smile and tittered an utterly false, bullshit court laugh. "Of course I would never do such a thing. If you had listened attentively you would have heard me finish that I am one of four candidates who holds the potential to become the next queen. Or at least I will be by this time tomorrow. So you should address me with the proper-"

"Why am I here?" I asked Dragor, taking a step closer to him then stopping abruptly.

His icy gaze roamed from the tips of my weather-worn boots to the top of my windswept, pink hair before he shrugged.

"Alexandrius requested honesty within our union. She holds no objection to me claiming a…well, we haven't discussed your preferred term. Concubine? Courtesan? Mistress?"

A fist of ice gripped the back of my neck and squeezed so tightly that all words failed me for what may have been the first time in all my life. I swallowed thickly, forcing my face to remain blank just as I had through countless horrors in war, just as I had when the Fae fighting near me had fallen, my own death screaming closer by the moment, just as I had through every sneer and jibe and catcall about my weak blood until no one dared taunt me so brazenly again. But hidden beneath that mask, something was cracking within me as the prince continued to speak, his fiancée assessing me not as competition but as a piece of the estate she was about to inherit.

"Might we share her?" Alexandrius asked and my upper lip pulled back as my hand curled into a fist. I wasn't some fucking toy to be passed between the hands of these people.

"I'm a possessive creature," Prince Dragor replied, as if I weren't there, as if my opinion on it meant nothing. "I detest disloyalty and I have commanded hers without fault. She bows to me and me alone, don't you, Vesper?"

My name on his tongue was a slap to the face, the way he offered it to this stranger so casually when there were few to none who even knew it at all. It was somehow worse than him discussing the possibility of me becoming her plaything as well as his own.

Was this the man I had yearned after for so many years? Was this legend I had placed all of my faith in and bound my soul to unyieldingly, following him into death and combat with unwavering, unerring devotion for so many years that I couldn't even remember a time before his influence on my actions existed?

My silence rang through the room and Dragor chuckled to dispel it, but the look he gave me was pure warning.

"I do not think this arrangement will suit me," I said slowly, my voice dripping finality, my emotions and that cracking, splintering thing inside of me shoved deep, deep down into a vault within my chest where it would never see the light of day.

"Your loyalty is to me, your duty is to serve. Don't allow petty jealousy to make you sound like a fool, Vesper," Dragor sneered. "You have sworn yourself to me, have you not?"

"Yes."

"And you further vowed yourself to me too, didn't you? You swore that a wall would exist surrounding you which none barring I would hold the means to scale."

"Yes," I forced out though the word was quieter this time, the ringing truth of that stupid declaration echoing around me.

"Would you break a vow made to your sovereigns then? Would you try to escape the binds of your own word?" Dragor sipped on his tea and I looked from him to Alexandrius, perhaps foolishly hoping to see some kind of comradery there, to find a common ground between us where we might at least agree that neither of us wanted my participation in any part of their union. But all I found in her murky eyes was hunger and when I dared to reach out to her with my gifts, the desire I found there was a feral, rabid beast.

Power. Oh how she longed for the throne which now dangled so closely before her. Her desire for Dragor was all-consuming, already at a level which required no boosting from me or my power. It wasn't so much lust for his flesh, though that was present too, but it was a want for all he was and all he represented. She would gladly let him fuck me every day for the rest of his life if he so wished. She'd watch, join in or ignore it entirely depending on what satisfied him, so long as it gained her what she wanted. A crown.

Though as her eyes roamed over mine, I found that lust which so many Fae fell prey to there too. She would push for the option she'd already suggested. She wanted to fuck a Succubus too. A mental image of that life, of myself at their beck and call while they rose to power and I became nothing more than their creature of sin slammed into my mind and I almost screamed at the path I found myself perched on.

"I'm a warrior, not a whore," I growled, forcing myself not to back up out of determination alone. I was still Dragor's sworn soldier, still his possession no matter his uses for me, but this would not be my fate.

"Ugh, my Prince, when you told me you were fucking the Succubus, I have to say I expected a little more from her," Alexandrius complained, wafting a silk-gloved hand in my direction like I was so disappointing.

"Technically, I haven't fucked her yet," Dragor drawled, leaning back in his chair and looking only to this woman who would wear a crown at his side. "I've been prolonging the anticipation. Besides, I want her begging for it."

I bristled, heat scalding my cheeks as I considered how close I had come to doing just that the last time he had had me alone. He'd seemed so big then, this legend given Fae form, this inaccessible, unattainable object of my most foolish desires. And yet now, as I looked at him drinking from that tiny fucking tea cup, tittering with this vapid woman he didn't even know and placing her at his side for nothing more than money and influence, I felt I was seeing him clearly at last. I was just a thing to him. I'd never been special. I was a toy to chew up and discard at will. A soldier to send to face her death time and again. Hooray if she succeeds, boohoo if she fails, shall we have another tiny cup of fucking tea?

"I assume I am not attending the ceremony tomorrow?" I ground out, my fingernails cutting into my palms as I held myself together, forcing my blood to calm.

Whatever else he was, Dragor was my prince and he was right; he did own me. I would serve him in battle and bloodshed until my very last breath and gladly die in the fight for the supremacy of Stormfell, but I would not become a trinket for his entertainment.

"What's your family name?" Alexandrius enquired.

I bit my tongue against the reply that I had none, that I was a Crossborn by both name and birth, and I was actually glad when Dragor spoke for me.

"It's of no significance. She won't be attending," he replied dismissively. I wondered if he didn't want his bride to know that I was nothing but a waifhouse brat with blood born of our enemies. If it would crush the hunger now brewing in her expression as she watched me retreat, then I'd be certain to make sure she learned of it. "Enjoy the revelry in the city for a few days before your return to Never Keep, Vesper. No doubt your next attendance to court will allow for a longer interaction."

Somehow I forced myself not only to bow but to bite my tongue on any kind of reply to that and hurled myself from the room before letting so much as a scrap of what was burning inside of me escape before them.

The doors to the reception room banged closed at my back and I forced my feet one before the next. I kept going past my apartment, past the east wing of the palace and right on through the gates until the city swallowed me whole. And I hoped that by the time the day was done, it would devour me entirely and save me from this brutal twist of fate.