Chapter 33

Iam left with two options. I could sneak down to Cathal's cell again and offer him a little violent… persuasion of my own, but the risk of Sin finding out is too high, too dangerous. He'll have someone watching his cell at every hour now, I'm sure. Which leaves me with the second option: I play along while I look for another way out.

Tonight, the Black Art is hosting a dinner with Sterling and his son to ensure they are in agreement about the kingdom's very public execution yesterday morning. Locking in an alliance with the overseers of trade means gaining their troops, and ultimately, a faster elimination of Legion, and victory in the war Sin plans on declaring soon after their demise. Thatcher's death will likely motivate Legion to attack sooner—Cathal's stand-in leaders no doubt using the event as means to fearmonger their soldiers into fighting before they're appropriately equipped and ready.

My dress is a pale shade of blue, its color reminiscent of hydrangea flowers, with a ruched waist and flowy bell sleeves that hang off my shoulders. River added a swash of gold to my eyelids and painted my lips the color of blood. Fitting for the occasion, I suppose. She left my long hair unbound to fall freely down my back in soft waves.

I clear my mind of thoughts of Thatcher and my family and how they'll be reduced to pawns in the kingdom's fight for civil domination. Right now, my focus needs to be on finding Cosmina and securing her freedom. If fighting alongside the kingdom is the only way to free her, I'll help earn the Langston's support now and strap on the armor as I charge into battle.

I wipe my tears, smearing them into nothingness, and walk downstairs in the pretty dress.

* * *

Wide stretched smiles erupt across the table as two servants dressed in matching linen smocks place generously loaded plates in front of each of us. Sin sits at the head of the long dining table, wearing a burgundy coat of weathered print with a flared hem and laced-up chest. His usual free-flowing hair is tied back with a small leather tie.

Sterling sits across from Sin at the opposite end of the table. Bennett's father appears close in age to Dusaro, but his graying hair and creased forehead indicate a life spent in negotiation and settling disputes. He wears a navy-blue tailcoat with the letter L woven into the chest pocket in fine silver thread.

Bennett sits across from me, dressed in a similar blue jacket with silver embroidery as his father's. Dusaro sits to Sin's left next to Bennett, and on my side of the table, Aldred sits between Ileana and me. Sin briefed me before the meal on the role I am to play tonight. He told the Langstons I have family that have been caught in Legion cross hairs, and am aiding the kingdom with my proficient, yet nothing extraordinary, mage abilities. And being an old friend of the Black Art, I am trusted to be present during the dinner while they discuss strategies of war.

The first half of the meal is an exchange of casual conversation concerning family and mutual friends. Bennett occasionally asks me about my life in Innodell, to which I lie through my teeth, not willing to share anything personal with someone of his virtues. I keep my attention on the Langstons, ignoring the heated stare Sin gives me every time Bennett speaks to me directly, monitoring my responses like a hawk circling a plump rabbit.

The conversation shifts political after the servants bring in dessert—sweetened egg custard with currants and slivered nuts.

Sin swirls the mead in his glass, then takes a deep pull of the amber drink. "It won't be long now. They're impulsive. But what they don't know is there will be no retreat for them this time. We'll evacuate the city and meet them head on in Blackreach. We'll create chokepoints in the city and cut off their points of retreatment. Once they barge through the gates of Blackreach, expecting us to be waiting for them at Scarwood, we'll lock down the city and move in. And when we're done, the only thing remaining of Legion will be their ghosts."

"It's a good plan, Mr. Langston," Dusaro chimes. "I've fought against Legion many times—their turnover is high, so they're ghastly inexperienced and flightier than sparrows. We'll have the element of surprise on them, and as soon as they realize the trap they've walked into, they'll panic. Picking them off will be easy, especially if we have the Langston battalion at our side."

The Black Art's father looks polished in a fine black tailcoat and white shirt underneath, his dark hair smooth and shiny, and the few braids in his hair don't have a strand out of place. Goddess above, the resemblance between Sin and his father is striking, their dark skin equally as smooth, their noses both long and slender, and their narrowed eyes both downturned at the corners.

I corral what remains of my pudding with my spoon while I push my collective away from me and latch onto Sterling's. His body may display signs of age, but his mind is sharp and calculated, and I don't sense any nervousness or traces of deceit.

"It's always an honor to do our part in serving, Your Grace," Sterling says, wiping his chin with a decorative cloth napkin. "The cost, however, will be extravagant. Is fighting them in the city really the best option when we have open land that isn't bordered by homes and shops that will surely be destroyed and need to be rebuilt?"

"My Lord, if I may interject," Aldred addresses Sterling, "Legion is most familiar with fighting on open land. They aren't accustomed to the cities because they can't traverse them during the day. They'll be in uncharted territory to begin with, and I've already been compiling plans to stake traps and chokeholds throughout Blackreach. The devastation will be great, but the devastation if we do not do this will be far greater. I'll see that the residents are relocated to shelters and outposts we have set up. There won't be civilian casualties, and if we have your support, there will be few casualties of our own."

Sin thanks his commander for his input, and Dusaro offers Aldred a nod of approval. As the conversation continues to thicken with political jargon, Bennett speaks to me less, and I note hardly anyone asks Ileana to weigh in her opinion. Apparently being mundane makes her opinion less valid than Sin's. Or perhaps it is simply because she's a woman that they don't ask her thoughts.

When the servants return to collect our dishes, I lean across the table towards Bennett and flash him a sweet smile.

"Would you accompany me for an evening stroll, my Lord?"

Bennett grins, revealing a set of white teeth. "It would be my pleasure, my Lady." Rising from the table, he shoots a sideways glance to a smirking Dusaro. I glance to Sin and find him now entirely focused on Bennett, apparently also noting the exchanged glance between him and his father. Bennett doesn't seem to notice the warning glare on Sin's face—a glare I'm not sure how to interpret. Sin shifts his stare to me and sweeps his eyes down my body—his gaze lingering an extra second on my breasts, my waist, my legs—and drags his tongue over his teeth as if he finds me disapproving.

Is there something wrong with how I look?

When I looked in the mirror, I thought my appearance could mistake me for a lady of high stature, but the Black Art's lingering stare has me questioning if my taste in attire is perhaps not suitable at all.

"Careful with my Wren, Mr. Langston," Sin says, swishing the remainder of the mead around in his glass.

I arch an eyebrow, but Sin doesn't look away from Bennett, his eyes dropping to the hand he places on the small of my back as he guides us out of the dining hall.

MyWren. I'd like to shove my fist up his ass.

We head outside to the northern courtyard and walk along the stone path through the castle's gardens. The hedge's pink and purple flowers have a faint shimmer to them as the droplets from the afternoon rain reflect the silvery beams of moonlight. Bennett glances up at the sky, the faint light casting shadow on one side of his golden-brown hair.

"I assume you are staying the evening and riding home tomorrow?" I ask.

"Yes. His Grace has generously offered to put us and our driver up for the evening. I dare say we'll be seeing more of each other if our troops are to be drilling on castle grounds."

"Do you think this will escalate Legion's next attack?"

"Most definitely. I hope it has them furious. It's always more fun to kill them when they're all stirred up about something." He winks as if what he just said would somehow be a turn on for me.

I feign a laugh. "You're confident your men are able and ready for this fight?" I sink my claws into his collective before he has time to respond.

He shrugs. "Men are ready for anything when you pay them well enough. There is a reason my family has stayed in power for so many generations."

I comb through his mind with invisible fingers and resist the urge to gag as I sift through layers of pride and lust. Nothing to indicate he says anything other than what he believes to be true. As I told Sin before, the Langston boy is honest. Pompous, arrogant, and irritating—but honest.

We step into the Spiritwood trees, and I lead us to the small pond where Sin and I dueled with magic. "Speaking of your family—will you be taking your father's place when that time comes?"

I sit on a worn-down rock near the edge of the water, and Bennett relaxes on a nearby tree stump.

"Yes, unless Cornelius decides he wants to be a part of the family again."

"Cornelius?"

"My elder brother. My father and him had a bit of a falling out a while ago, but he has sent word he intends to return to Blackreach soon. I'm not sure about his reasoning, but I would be surprised if it wasn't because he found trouble and doesn't have the coin to get himself out of it."

A brisk wind rips my hair forward and chills the back of my neck. As the breeze settles, it leaves an eerie silence in its wake as if the birds and evening critters sensed the darkness within me and scattered.

"I hope your reunion goes smoothly, my Lord."

"Sin says you're going to be fighting alongside us?" He poses his words as a question.

My shoulders pull back when I look at him head on. "Yes. I'm willing to do what I can to help stop those… dogs," I mutter, the insult bitter and unflattering on my tongue.

He lets out a sound of approval from his chest and moves to sit at my feet. "I think a woman willing to fight for what she believes in is very, very sexy," he whispers, slipping a hand onto my knee. "You're very beautiful, Wren."

"You're too kind, my Lord, but perhaps you've had a touch too much mead at dinner," I laugh without humor, attempting to dismiss the compliment.

He pushes up to his knees and tilts his head so his mouth hovers near my neck, his breath hot and unsettling against my skin. "I don't need a drink to know you look absolutely… tantalizing," he murmurs and presses his lips to the side of my neck.

I lean away, but his hand races to grab the other side of my neck, and he pins me in place, while his other hand finds the slit in my dress and slides up to my thigh.

"Bennett, n—"

He presses his mouth to mine and forces his tongue between my lips. As quickly as he invaded my mouth, I slide my hands up between our chests and shove him back.

"This is making me uncomfortable. Let go of me."

He pulls his head back to look at me and cradles my face in his hands, brushing his thumb across my cheek. "There's no reason to be uncomfortable, darling," he says quietly and dips his mouth to my collarbone. One of his hands grabs my thigh again, and his fingertips stroke the fabric of my underwear. This time, I grab both his shoulders and push him back harder.

"I want you to stop," I say, now louder and firmer.

"You won't want to stop once we start, I promise," he breathes against my skin. In one swift motion, he stands, hoists me off the rock by my bottom, and lays me back in the tall grass. He covers me with his body, his mouth crushing mine as his fingers begin undoing the buttons on his coat.

I slam my palms into his chest. "Bennett, I said no. Get. Off. Of. Me."

He shushes me and drops his hands to his waist belt, unfastening it with impressive speed. "Let's just try—you'll love it. Come now, you're not going to say no to a Langston, right?"

"I just did," I say, sliding out from under him and yanking my dress down that slid up in the entanglement.

Bennett looks at me with his mouth slightly dropped and arms splayed out in front of him as if he truly can't comprehend I'm telling him no. "Are you being serious right now? Come now, Wren, don't be a fucking idiot."

"Don't be a fucking asshole. I'm leaving." I turn and take a step away from him when he grabs my elbow and jerks me back towards him.

"You're not going anywhere," he growls, all friendliness gone from his eyes. "Not until I release you."

"No one releases me. Not even a pompous Langston prick," I spit.

Rage twists his face into something monstrous, and he strikes me with the back of his hand. I grab my cheek instinctively, and when I lower it, I'm certain my face more than matches the anger on his.

"How dare you speak to a lord like that. It seems you needed to be reminded of your place. A low-born girl from Innodell refusing a Langston? I can't say I've experienced it before, but I can certainly think of a punishment on the spot."

I don't hesitate. I let the heat tunnel through my veins as it rushes from the valve I keep tightly sealed and into my palms. With a feral yell, I throw my hands against his chest and burn him in the process. He topples backwards, letting out a few curses unfit for a lady's ears.

But I'm not a lady, and he's certainly not a godsdamned man.

Bennett regains his footing and saunters towards me, licking his lips and sliding a hand into his now unfastened pants. "You're going to regret that now, bitch."

I ready myself with another surge of magic, ready to blast him harder and farther into the woods this time, restraint be damned. No one touches me. Especially not a mundane asshole on a power trip.

He lets out a low, dark chuckle. "I would have made sure you enjoyed yourself. But now… now I think I'll make you scream for other reasons. Don't even think of trying that again if you ever want to see the outside of a cell again."

A loud roar splits the night, and a symphony of snapping branches crescendos towards us. Bennett instinctively reaches for the sword absent from his formal wear, fear molding his face as his hand swipes for his phantom weapon. I throw my hands out with a defensive ward sprung between them just as the final bushes between us and it part, and the sound rattling from its chest heightens to a high-pitched wail.

The transcendent leaps from between two trees, its powerful paws stampeding into Bennett's chest, and tackles him to the ground in one experienced maneuver. Bennett rakes his fingers through the mud as he scurries himself backwards, eyes wide and panicked, staring into the face of the snarling beast. It paces before him, never taking its eyes off Bennett, never turning to acknowledge me.

The animal is long and sinewy with four muscled legs and fur the color of midnight. It holds its large head low as it prowls towards Bennett, who now spews promises to leave transcendents alone, a desperate attempt for mercy as he finds himself weaponless and too spineless to face death. Its ears are short and slightly rounded at the tips, and the shape of its skeleton is almost feline. Bennett looks at me with eyes wide as small dinner plates, then looks between the transcendent and me.

He"s gauging the distance.

While the black furred beast slowly closes the gap between them, Bennett is debating turning tail and running. Hoping it will go for the easier prey—the woman who hasn't yet run away while its back is turned.

He doesn't know I'm the deadliest creature in these woods.

Bennett scrambles to his feet and slowly bends at the waist, sliding his hand under his pant leg and pulling out a knife with a six-inch blade. The feline flicks its head with a rattled growl, daring him to pull the weapon on him. Bennett looks to me again, and for a moment, I think he is going to toss me the knife, to give me some means to defend myself before he flees.

I was wrong.

While I may be the deadliest predator in these trees, Bennett is the weakest—of mind, heart, and soul—and he darts through the woods like a freshly sprung arrow.

The Langstons don't view transcendents as people, but rather as inhumane monsters who rely on instinct alone, so surely it will turn and attack the easier prey, the one just standing here out in the open.

But I know better.

Bennett takes off running without so much as bidding me a second glance. I make no move to stop the transcendent as it pulls its lips back in a snarl and leaps after him, burying its impressive claws into Bennett's back. He hits the ground face first, rolls onto his back, and comes face-to-face with the beast. Saliva drips from its jowls, and its lips quiver as the transcendent lets out a low, guttural growl.

Bennett buries the knife into its side, and the raven-furred animal yowls when it makes contact but doesn't take so much as a step backwards. Instead, it opens its jaws in an ear-splitting roar.

I don't wince as it sinks its teeth into Bennett's neck and shakes with lethal ferocity. When Bennett goes limp, lying crumpled in a pool of crimson regret, the predator drops its prey and huffs over its kill. It still doesn't turn to look at me, but it knows I'm here. I lower into a crouch with my magic still simmering in my hands, waiting to see how it reacts now that its first target is dealt with. This isn't just a transcendent—it's a transcendent that managed to get inside the castle gates of its most hated enemy.

This kill was personal.

I eye the knife protruding from its side and can't help but wonder if Bennett would have tried to threaten me with it had I kept fighting him. The wound will be easy enough for the transcendent to heal in its human state, but shifting back around the knife will be incredibly painful. I take one measured step towards it. Its ears flicker at my movement.

"Are you alright?" I ask, my voice coming out breathier than I intended.

Its hunched shoulders seem to tighten farther at my voice, but it still doesn't turn to look at me.

I take a second careful step. "I can pull it out. It'll hurt, but it will be worse if you try to shift around the blade."

I wait for some sign of acknowledgment, but not a muscle twitches along its long, muscular body. I reach towards its unwounded side, willing my hand not to shake, and gently press my fingertips against its short, sleek coat. When it doesn't recoil at my touch, I press my palm into its black fur, noting the deep shades of blue illuminated in the moonlight. Very carefully, I slide my palm across its side.

The beast shudders at my caress.

I move to its wounded side and grab the leather-bound hilt, bracing my other hand against its stomach for leverage, and rip the knife free. It lets out a sharp howl of pain, and blood pours from the wound, blood that it's losing too quickly if it doesn't shift back and heal, blood that… that smells so familiar.

Like hyacinths in the rain.

The knife falls from my hand, and I gasp as I inhale the scent of its blood. Its ears flicker at the sound, noting the realization on my breath, hearing the thrumming of my pounding heart.

No. It can't be.

The smell of him flares my nostrils wide, and my mouth waters at the scent it never got to taste. He finally turns and faces me, his large, powerful paws inches from my leather sandals, and raises its head so it stands at full height before me. His face more closely resembles a cat's than the canine likeness Eldridge and Thatcher shared, and set deep in its angled face are two brilliant eyes staring back at me.

Familiar, yellow-green eyes.

His eyes.

And then I feel it. The tugging in my stomach—the phantom tether buzzing with excitement at the proximity of its creator. The magic in my gut doesn't lie. The smell of his blood in my nose, on my tongue, doesn't lie.

My heart fractures with truth.

Sin slowly retreats into the brush behind him, the silhouette of his body disappearing within the trees, leaving only the eternal spring of his eyes visible through the woods, until those too, disappear.