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“All of it?” Devon’s scaly tattoos moved down his arms like a real snake, slithering over his pale skin. They had both been marked as Crows on the same night. To assimilate into a fae-less kingdom, Orion had banished his wings with magic. He’d often longed for a symbol of them to remind himself he wasn’t just human.
Devon’s mark was a snake to represent his parents, who had given him away to the Society of Crows. After their discussion last night, seeing the tattoo sent chills down Orion’s spine.
“I don’t remember everything yet.”
“Had I known she was a Beekeeper, I would have never harmed her.”
Magical wind rushed through the leaves of plants around them, biting with unnatural coldness into their exposed skin. Devon’s spell descended like a winter storm.
“You can help us and make it up to her,” Orion said.
A laugh escaped Devon’s pale lips. “Let me guess. You still want me to use the mirror?”
Orion dodged the ice spell, racing toward his brother. Frigid air burned down his throat. “You said it yourself. The house barely let me in. And we still need answers.”
“You might not care about the allegiance we both swore to the Society, but I do.” Devon’s lips twisted into a snarl. “May I remind you that they protect the world from the very gods who sought to destroy us? Have you also forgotten that insignificant piece of history?”
Orion’s back stiffened, his anger flaring. “We aren’t talking about doing anything to harm your precious Society. We need to stop the demons from coming here and killing the Beekeepers. On our own, it will take us weeks to sift through the archives, and we don’t have that time.”
“Why not?” Devon raised his arms over his head. His alabaster skin glistened under the gray light. Frost or sweat? It didn’t matter. “We’re well hidden from your maniacal father here, and this place hasn’t seen a Crow in ages.”
“Because Aristaeus shouldn’t have to deal with the Zorren on his own.”
“Who the hell is this Aristes you two keep talking about?”
“Aristaeus,” Orion corrected. “There are always two Beekeepers. You fill in the blank.”
His brother’s conflicted expression gave Orion hope. He stretched his arm across his chest, ready to get the training started. His stiff muscles really needed to unwind.
“What if it was you who hurt Nava when she crossed the portal? You were so worried at the castle about that prophecy referring to you…”
Orion stopped moving and met Devon’s gaze across the darkness of his magic. “I would never purposely hurt my soulmate.”
A cyclone of freezing air enveloped him not a second later, a wall of white blinding him as the moisture in the air transformed into snow that stuck to his clothes and body. He hissed and called on his shadows to shield him.
“Tsk. Getting sloppy in your old age, brother. No wonder your father’s guards kidnapped you from the island. What was that thing you used to tell me? Rule one: do not allow your opponent to distract you. Not even if they’re asking questions about your beautiful woman.”
Heat surged within Orion’s gut, and he raised both of his hands. His inky power exploded out of him in waves of faces and fierce voices that collided with Devon’s stormy spell.
The glass above them shook with the wind now raging inside the solarium. Plants lifted from the ground and scattered dirt over the wooden floor beneath their feet.
Devon was right. He needed to get his head straight, or sooner or later, it would get him killed.
This round of training should at least help him release some of that pent-up tension and sharpen his priorities.
Protect Nava from his father. Find out what had happened to his mother, for her ghost still haunted him in this kingdom. And remove the Zorren from the land.
8
NAVA
Nava had been hovering on the threshold of their room for at least thirty minutes. Tapping the wooden doorframe with restless fingers, she studied the long hallway for any sign of either Arkimedes or Devon.
She’d woken up midmorning, aching from the fight with the guards two days prior, their evening of running, and the poor night’s sleep on the bakery’s floor. A yawn pushed its way past her lips, and she quickly pressed a hand over her mouth to mute any sound that might alert an enemy to her presence.
Gods, she was tired—and going mad with paranoia.
Rationally, she knew they were alone in this place. But the bees were her constant companions, a quiet warning that evil could be lurking behind every closed door. Since Nava was a child, her mother had instilled a deep fear of places like this in her, and she couldn’t shake the undeniable sense of malevolence in the air.
