Chapter 5

5

KASSANDRA

O nce, when I used to live with Madam Herra, I healed a fae who was choking.

He had come with his wife—who lost her hand in an accident—and hadn’t intended to be healed himself. However, while he was waiting, he swallowed a grape and began to choke on it. I didn’t think, only acted.

I placed my bare hand on his cheek.

A strange, tight ball manifested in my throat almost instantly. Tears pricked the backs of my eyes, but they didn’t fall. They just hung there, suspended, crystalline shards that shrouded the world in a hazy, silver glow. I desperately inhaled, trying to capture fresh air, but the ball didn’t dislodge itself. Nothing I did could ease this desperate, suffocating sensation that threatened to send me spiraling into unconsciousness.

All of that flits through my mind now as I stare at Patric’s dead body.

I’m suffocating.

Choking.

Dying.

Aleksander’s words play on repeat.

Mark of Chaos.

Mark of Chaos.

Mark of Chaos.

What in Gaia’s name just happened? How did Patric go from normal to…possessed? That’s the only word I can think of. That male speaking to me wasn’t Patric. It was someone else, someone other .

The world will burn.

What did he mean by that?

My head begins to throb, but still, I can’t pull my gaze away from Patric. I was always told you looked peaceful in death, but that isn’t the case for the ancient priest—and not just because his head isdisconnected from his body.

His unseeing, vacant eyes are wide in terror, the black having receded as soon as Aleksander hefted his blade. His lips are parted, almost as if he wanted to scream, but no sound was capable of escaping. And I can’t help but wonder…did whatever unseen force that gripped him release him before he died? Did Patric experience that fatal blow? Did he feel pain?

I think I’m going to be sick.

Aleksander isn’t faring much better, but not for the same reasons as me. He just keeps staring at the mark on my upper arm, almost as if it holds all the answers to questionshe hasn’t even formulated yet.

And then his voice ricochets through the cave, hoarse and raspy. “We need to leave. Now. We need to get you to the Amorite.”

Even before he finishes speaking, I’m shaking my head. He keeps saying that I’ll be safe there, that they have all the answers I’m looking for, but I don’t believe him. And I certainly don’t trust him.

I don’t trust anyone anymore.

That realization sits like a boulder in my stomach, accompanied by this inexplicable sinking feeling like I’m steppingin quicksand.

How sad must my life be to never trust anyone, to never allow anyone in? Life has conditioned me to fear the creatures walking this earth. All they do is take, take, and take from me, without any thought to how their actions will affect me.

But no more.

An idea begins to form—the barest roots of one that haven’t yet sprouted into anything tangible. Perhaps it isn’t even roots but a mere seed.

Either way, it’s the best I have.

I lower my head demurely and allow my lashes to flutter shut. To the outside observer, I appear pliant and submissive. Sweet, innocent Kassandra, always doing what she’s told. They don’t see the conniving beast lurking just beneath the surface.

The beast they created.

So when Aleksander grabs my wrist and tugs me down the tunnel, I don’t fight him.

The tunnel goes on and on for what feels like forever. We eventually reach a gaping exit that leads out to the barren, acrid desert—nothing but golden sand and sunlight as far as the eye can see. The hills ripple and dilute like yellow water.

Almost instantly, I’m covered in sweat. My blonde hair sticks to my cheeks and forehead in a way that I’m sure is repulsive.

Why does the Summer Court have to be so blasted hot all the time?

I study my surroundings with a keen eye…and there, in the far distance, I see what I’m looking for.

I tug on Aleksander’s arm and point towards the largest hill blocked in by two smaller ones.

One of his eyebrows quirks upwards. “Yes?”

I pantomime drinking.

“Water?” he asks, frowning.

I nod eagerly.

He studies the decrepit landscape—nothing but sand, sand, and more sand—before nodding. He knows as well as I do that we won’t make it long without water and transportation. It’s too Gaiadamn hot, the air scorching and dry.

I lead the way, trying to ignore the erratic thundering of my heart. Trepidation battles with something akin to guilt in my chest, but I shove both emotions away with steadfast determination.

Instead, I turn my attention towards Aleksander, who’s studying his surroundings like, well…like a hunter. Fitting, I suppose.

I wave a hand in the air to capture his attention, only dropping it when he turns to stare at me.

“Yes?”

I gesture towards my bicep and then quirk an eyebrow.

“The Mark of Chaos,” he murmurs, correctly interpreting my unspoken question. He purses his lips and resumes his rapt perusal of the surrounding desert. “I’m afraid there’s not much I can tell you.”

I make a strangled scoffing noise that momentarily pulls his attention towards me.

“Don’t give me that look,” he chides, his tone more lighthearted than before. “You know I’m a sucker for those puppy-dog eyes.”

Puppy-dog eyes?

He must see the confusion on my face because he chuckles.

“We have animals called puppies in Amorite. They grow up to be dogs. They’re…well… Would it ruin my terrifying reputation if I say they’re cute? Elves often have them as pets.”

I try to envision these “puppies,” but my mind instead conjures up images of Runt, the pacon I found and saved. An intense yearning threatens to bowl me over.

I miss him.

And, strangely enough, I miss the other inhabitants of theSpringCourt too.

Like Serena and Cayetana.

Like…Blaze and Treyton.

Who would’ve thought I’d miss the antagonistic, insanely possessive Fall Prince and the charming, narcissistic, womanizing Springone?

I shake my head once to get myself back on track. There’ll be time to think about the princes later.

Right now, I need answers.

My nerves are frayed, and tension threatens to lock all my muscles together. There’s so much I don’t understand, and I have the distinct impression that’s intentional. Everybody wants me to be left in the dark. Doing so keeps me pliant and complacent.

But no more.

I give Aleksander a look—one that eloquently states not to mess with me—and he blows out a breath.

“I’m sure you know that elves don’t worship the same gods and goddesses that you do, right?” Though he phrases it as a question, he doesn’t wait for me to respond before continuing. “And that’s true, to an extent, but not the whole truth. You see, we do believe in Gaia, but she’s not the only goddess we worship.”

I frown at him.

Sure, I know that some territories have temples dedicated to lesser gods, but in the courts, every fae believes that Gaia is the supreme ruler of all.

Is Aleksander saying that the elves worship lesser gods?

Which ones?

Aleksander chuckles and stares at me out of the corner of his eye. “You know, I never really had to tell someone the origin story before. Everybody in Amorite has been taught this stuff since we were children. Even those who don’t believe know the gospel.”

Do you believe?

But I don’t ask that question, mainly because I don’t know how to articulate it through hand gestures and facial expressions.

“In the beginning, there were two deities who loved each other very much. They decided they were going to show their love by creating a world dedicated to it. A world that we now call home. Those deities were named Order and Chaos.” Aleksander glances at me once again, as if to make sure I’m following the conversation.

Order and Chaos?

I sift through my meager memories of religion, trying to remember if I ever heard of these gods before, but come up blank.

“They worked together to create a world that would thrive. A world that is capable of balancing light and dark, good and evil, order and chaos. You see, cherub, every facet of the universe must be balanced. When there is sunlight in the world, there also must be shadows to create darkness. And when it’s night, Order will add stars to the sky to create light.”

He scratches at his jawline, where there are the subtlest beginnings of stubble. “Order and Chaos quickly discovered that they couldn’t rule this paradise alone, so they created others—gods and goddesses who would become the ones we worship today.

“One of the first was Gaia, who was put in charge of every living thing, from the plants that sprout from the ground, to the creatures that fly in the sky, to the fae and elves and giants that walk this earth. But where there’s life, there also has to be?—”

”Death,” I mouth in understanding.

“Thanatos,” Aleksander agrees with a sharp nod. “He controlled all the things that died. The wilting flowers, the predator eating the prey, sickness and disease.”

For some reason, Aleksander’s words conjure up memories of one of my last conversations with Calan. He was discussing with me all of the reasons he loves the Winter Court. I thought a land characterized by snow and ice would be a kingdom of death, but Calan told me that winter was actually the beginning of life.

“Order and Chaos were pleased with the world they created, but everything changed when Chaos began to question his role. How could chaos exist, let alone thrive, when the fundamental ideals of balance ensured there would always be order? They fought, and we were told their battle was so intense that the precarious scales shifted.

“Gaia and Thanatos, desperate to keep their world alive, decided that the only thing they could do was get rid of their parents before they could destroy everything once and for all. But of course, they couldn’t kill them, because doing so would upset the balance. So they did the next best thing…”

We must’ve stopped walking at some point. The sun beats down on my skin, but I barely feel the blistering rays. All of my attention is consumed by Aleksander and his story.

“Thanatos and Gaia combined their powers and put Order and Chaos to sleep. Nobody knows where, and nobody knows for how long.” A frown takes over his face. “That mark on your wrist… It’s only been seen once before.”

“Where?” I sign, but he isn’t looking in my direction.

Instead, he’s focused on the contingent of fae hurrying down the steep hillside, all holding swords and spears.

Faye—a Summer fae I met and befriended earlier—leads the charge, and she smiles when she sees me.

“Death Whisperer,” she greets reverently. “It’s good to see you again. And this is…?” She jerks her chin towards Aleksander.

“I don’t know,” I confess. “Not a friend, but I’m not sure he’s a foe either.”

Her army begins to surround Aleksander, who has gone very, very still. But instead of looking furious or betrayed, he appears…proud. A smile curls up his lips as he glances down at me.

“You tricked me, my beautiful cherub.” Amusement rings clear in his voice.

One of the fae forces Aleksander to his knees while another places handcuffs around both of his wrists. I wince, hoping they don’t hurt him and unsure why I care so much.

“I knew there was a reason why you were made for me,” Aleksander whispers huskily as the fae hauls him back to his feet.

His eyes never leave mine, ensnaring them, holding them hostage, enveloping me in heat stronger than the sun’s rays. “If you wanted to play a game, cherub, you should’ve just told me.”

Just before the fae can lead him away, he leans in close, his lips a hair’s breadth away from my ear—fortunately, the ear that has maintained its hearing. Shivers work their way down my spine at his proximity.

“I love playing games, but I love winning even more. And I have a feeling this particular reward will make the game that much sweeter.”