I scoff, the sound sharp and mocking. “You have had your head in these clouds too long.”
Anethesis’ glare slices my words to shreds. He grabs my wrists, his nails scraping against my skin. “These are the hands of an Awakened,” he growls, his calm slipping. “Hands capable of miracles. Portals, Princess. That’s the miracle we need. You will open a portal to Meranor.”
I yank against his grip, shaking my head fiercely. “I know nothing about portals.”
“You will.” Anethesis releases me abruptly, and I jerk my hands away, cradling them to my chest.
“An Awakened is a rarity,” he says, voice laced with reverence. “Feared and worshiped in the same breath. They possess magic beyond imagining, but their light is usually snuffed out long before it can grow. Do you understand how extraordinary it is that you’ve survived this long? I imagine it’s because you’re human. No one would ever think to look for an Awakened among humans. Fae Awakened are easier to find…and easier to give up. Mothers turn in their own children without hesitation.”
His eyes gleam with raw excitement, his very skin seeming to brighten, almost childlike in his awe. My shoulders stiffen. But then, as if catching himself, Anethesis exhales, forcing his thoughts back into order.
“Normally, it takes years for an Awakened to grow into their power, and though I would love to let you blossom at your own pace, we don’t have that luxury. Mortals live brief lives as it is, and we’ve already waited too long.”
“I know as much about being Awakened as I do about portals,” I snap, gritting my teeth. “You have the wrong person.”
Anethesis laughs, low and disbelieving, his smile twisting into something almost amused. “Please, Princess. Don’t insult us both with such nonsense. You don’t dream, do you? You see through magic…glamors…enchantments?”
I say nothing, but his smug grin only deepens.
“Those are the signs of an Awakened. And weknowthat’s what you are.”
My resolve crumbles under the weight of his certainty. “How?” I demand, my voice trembling despite my best efforts. “How could you possibly know when I barely know myself?”
Anethesis glides to the window, his movements fluid, almost serpentine. He stares out over the floating city, sunlight shimmering in his jade eyes. “Do you know what a scrying mirror is?” he asks, his back still to me.
“No,” I admit.
“It is an artifact of immense power, crafted by the arcane scholars of House Taramethos. A scrying mirror acts as a window to the world. A prying eye into what lies beyond.” His fingers lightly twirl in the wind as he speaks. “Long before the Betrayer’s Battle, Lady Elyss of House Taramethos wed Lord Eryndor of House Maledannan. As a wedding gift, Taramethos presented them with a scrying mirror. It became a cornerstone of their power, as well as a tool of guidance for all the houses. But power like that...it breeds envy. The Mordorin coveted it, as they covet all things. When war consumed the land and House Maledannan fell, House Ithranor acted swiftly.”
“You took the mirror?”
He turns slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “We were neighbors of the Maledannan. We saw their castle burn, smoke rising like a funeral shroud. The mirror was too valuable to lose, too dangerous to leave behind.”
“So you stole it and fled,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.
His expression sharpens, and his eyes narrow, chilling the air between us. “You understand so little,” he says. “When the castles burned, it wasn’t just humans setting the fires. Other Fae took advantage, driven by greed. The mirror was but one prize in a war of plunder and betrayal.”
He clasps his hands behind his back, his tone softening slightly. “Yes, we claimed the mirror. We sailed across the Untold Sea, beyond the reach of war. We took to the skies and waited. For the fighting to end, for the ashes to settle, and we watched. We have always watched.”
He smiles now, and the curve of his lips perturbs me. “The mirror reveals your deepest desire or your darkest dread. And it showed us both: a human girl who saw through ancient Fae magic and defied an army of golden warriors on a battlefield of green, wielding the power of the Maledannan...and something far greater.”
I shake my head, disbelief coursing through me. The thought of being silently watched for so long sends a sickening twist through my stomach.
“When we returned to the Sundered Kingdoms to find you, we encountered Ronin instead and discovered we could prove valuable to one another.”
“How could you possibly be allies after everything that’s happened between man and Fae?” I ask curtly.
Anethesis gestures toward me, and his smile tightens. “It is astounding what compromises one will make for the right prize,” he replies smoothly. “House Ithranor’s numbers have dwindled, and we needed an army if we were to confront Daedalus, especially in his own domain, while the Legion requires a way across the Untold Sea to finish House Mordorin once and for all. But I wonder sometimes if Ronin’s motives are fare more…intimate.”
I scowl, but before I can voice my disdain, the stone trembles beneath us, and a deep, hollow roar reverberates through the sky. Its vibrations seem to part the clouds themselves, sending a dull ache through my chest. Anethesis gives an irritated sigh.
“That beast of yours continues to be a nuisance,” he says.
“Then release him,” I snap. “If I am what you need, free him.”
“And let him alert your prince or tear Driftspire apart in search of you?” He shakes his head. “Enough Ithranor lives were lost securing him in the first place. No, the monster is best where he is. Be grateful we did not destroy him.”
I suppress a grin. For all his boasting, Anethesis cannot hide the truth from me. They couldn’t kill Ashen. How do you kill smoke? How do you kill shadow?
