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“We can’t know what game they’re playing until we can see the whole board,” I add on.
He looks over his shoulder at me, huffing a surprised laugh.
“That sounds like something I would say.”
“Mmm, nope. Definitely something I would say.”
He chuckles again. “Fine, you coined it.”
I reach my hand to his back against the pulls of my chains, stroking a finger down his spine. My smile falls as I examine the scars covering his tan skin. Remembering the day I went back to that horrible memory. To Kane racing in to save me from the fire. How he tried to go back for Scarlett’s body and was burned from the house caving in on itself.
He walked through fire for me.
And Dessin had to suffer the pain of it for months.
Alone.
In the Emerald Lake Asylum.
God, I’m glad I burned that place to the ground.
I can’t help but tug on the memories that color in the obscure spaces of my mind. There were so many years where I’ve lived without his warm memory. The vacancy that was in my heart for so long.
If I’m not mistaken, the hallway expands into its own wing, growing in size and grandeur. Torches hang on the charcoal walls, roaring in orange flames. Iron pillars. Stone gargoyles with glowing red coals for eyes. It’s the carbon copy of an evil, black castle. A dark-aged dining hall with a gaudy grandfather clock ticking away, grating against the silence. The rich smell of roast beef, melted butter, and something sugary pours from the giant double doors outlined with glimmering firelight.
“Best behavior, captives. I’d hate for anyone to earn another strike,” Kaspias calls, shoving the double doors open like he’s arrived home from a long day at work.
I’m blasted with a gust of cozy, warm air. The kind that carries that slight whiff of a burning log in a fireplace. We pause at the entrance, watching Dessin lift his chin, take a predatory glance around the room, then step inside like his demented presence has swallowed the place in its daunting shadow.
Following behind his steps, the table decorated with a lavish feast steals my attention first. It’s a smooth, onyx, rectangular table. The unpolished metal platters hold roasted animals I can’t identify. Their legs are tied together, and they’re on beds of garnish. I’m instantly aware that we’re all reminded of the head cook Dessin torched as Niles groans behind me.
“Welcome,” an old voice rasps at the end of the table.
My eyes, alert and wide, dart to the source. Two old men. Black matte armor, numerous medals of honor decorating their chests, lush fur collars, and black paint smudged around their eyes. It’s hard to tell in this candle-lit room, but the rumors are true. They’re twins.
The Mazonist Brothers.
The leaders of Vexamen. The outcast royals of Alkadon. The navy twins who believed in a superior militia, a government that could pluck babies from their mother’s arms and turn them into humans without empathy, without the gentle touch of a parent.
And they’re like… a hundred years old.
“It feels like we already know you,” the one on the right says. “I am Malcolm. This is my brother Maxwell.”
Their voices aren’t loud and commanding. They’re soft and rusty, like their vocal cords are tainted by years of smoking a pipe.
“We’ve heard a lot about you from where we come from as well,” I say with cold venom, grasping the chain connected to my collar. “Interesting how you treat your guests.”
“All great and terrible things, I’m sure.” Maxwell chuckles. “My apologies for our manners, but the vicious rumors and legends of the two of you are quite the story. We would be old fools to let you roam before us without some form of security.”
Dessin tilts his chin down, looking at the brothers with something violent and unforgiving. “Nothing great or terrible. Simply…unimpressive.”
Malcolm and Maxwell stiffen, narrowing their eyes and raising an offended eyebrow. Leaving a small crack in that well-crafted image that they are sovereign leaders, kind and just.
They are men with fragile egos.
“Is that a fact?” Malcolm asks carefully, as if he’s trying not to lose his temper.
“And what about our history makes us unimpressive?”
