Chapter Nine

God of Night

“She is more powerful than we ever imagined.”

My teeth press together as I groan at the unwelcome voice. I knew Vena would come eventually. It was only a matter of time, despite my threats. The guardian is persistent, I’ll give her that. It doesn’t lessen my displeasure, however.

“And that concerns me how?”

I growl without turning around.

“Her magic is great but volatile,”

the guardian says. “She needs a tether or Oryndhr will be lost. Balance is a necessity, Darrius.”

Clearly, Vena has not lost her flair for the melodramatic. While it was amusing when directed elsewhere, I resent it now, especially as I detect judgment in her tone. As if I somehow have been derelict in my duty. “I do not care about a cursed realm that renounced their devotion to the gods. My duty is here not her, my fucking father saw to that,”

I bite out with enough force that I can feel the old guardian flinch. “Now begone, crone, my patience is at an end!”

I sense her irritation, but I do not care. I do not answer to the Royal Stars.

The flavor of salted honey blooms on my tongue, and I quell the instant clamor of the darkness humming a thunderous chant in my veins. My shadows might crave the star in their night sky, but I cannot afford to be weak . . . not now.

Not ever.