I pull my hair off my shoulders and angle my head. There’s barely a mark where he bit me. Everything heals faster where magic flourishes, so while villagers back home would walk around with these marks for months, mine is almost gone.
I’ll never forget those whispers. Women were both praisedand chastised for letting Fae drink from them, and some were prouder than others.
I graze my fingers over my throat and try to decide how I feel about it. I’m not ashamed that I made this decision because it saved Wilder’s life. It gave his magic the fuel to send all the ravagers away. But he’s also the enemy of the realm.
I shouldn’t have wanted to heal him at all.
The two small bumps where he punctured my skin are sensitive to the touch. Closing my eyes, I remember how it felt to have his fangs sink in. To have his tongue lap at my skin as he drank my blood. Something throbs at my core.
Quickly, I pull my hair in front of my shoulders and shake that thought. This is what Wilder wants—to seduce me into changing my mind.
I can’t.
I won’t.
If there’s any chance there’s still life on Alyssium, my decision is made.
My fingers twine through my hair, braiding it off my face. This braid isn’t as intricate as the ones Isolde would do, but it works. I spin the blue ends around my finger, noticing the color has climbed another half inch.
Tomorrow, we leave for Tempest, and I’ll finally get to escape these walls for a little while. I might die in the blessing, but anything is better than the constant reminder of corpses beneath my feet.
I glance at my bed, but I’m not tired, still buzzing from the battle at the beach. Instead of trying to sleep, I slip out my door, thankful that the Guard is busy recovering from what happened in Ruse Village, so they aren’t watching me as closely.
I’m wearing a nightdress as I wander the hallways, but it’s quiet, so it doesn’t matter. The nightly parties have ended, and most have retreated to their rooms. The few who cross my pathare too busy hanging on the arm of another to bother paying me any attention.
I follow the familiar path to the courtyard, but the doors are locked, so I choose an unfamiliar hallway to the left. Gold-framed portraits line the walls. Gaudy and perfectly polished. Everything in the palace is royal blue and gold, which surprised me when I first came here, since the Guard wears silver armor. It wasn’t until Callum told me that only the king wears the color of the palace that the decor made more sense.
King Malachi wants his golden aura to stand out.
Kings and their egos.
Around a bend, I find a painting depicting the creation of the four gods of our realm. The colors are so rich they sparkle, bringing the story to life.
First came the unspeakable gods, but they could not be heard or understood by any ears, mortal or immortal. So they crafted creations in their vision that could.
Caeces, the night.
Davorian, the aether.
Voilene, the star.
And Evaline, the spirit.
The unspeakable gods gifted them with thought and power of their own, leaving them to oversee the Space and the After. And so, our four gods were born, and together, they bore many constellations of realms to keep themselves busy, including ours.
First, Caeces woke the night, but it was dark and unbearable. A nightmare of death and premonitions. So Voilene woke the stars to light a path for the creatures that would inhabit it. She strung them along on threads woven by the Luminess with purpose and intention.
But light was an extension of darkness in that it was empty and soulless, so Davorian woke the aether to form all things. Finally, Evaline woke the spirit and the mind. She gave thecreatures of the constellations awareness of their blessings and selves.
In the painting, Voilene sits on a throne of the moon in the sky, overseeing the stars. Her gaze is at a distance, watching the shifting constellations while Caeces is the darkness around them. Davorian is depicted with his staff reaching for the sun, the tether between all things. While Evaline sits astride her lion, dark hair flowing in the breeze as she whispers the secrets of the gods to those who listen.
As the purveyor of wisdom, order, and victory, Evaline is the highest regarded by the Fae. They believe she blessed them above all, allowing them the wisdom to harness the very magic in their blood. Although some texts state that it was Voilene, not Evaline, who granted them their gift, and as such should be regarded for that blessing.
A noise comes from down the hall, and I spin toward it, ignoring the chill that skitters through me as I turn my back to the gods. As I get closer, I think maybe I’m hearing voices until a distinct moan has my feet freezing in place.
Two doors open to a great hall I’ve never seen before. The curtains are blue with golden frills decorating them where they sweep the floor. At the center of the room is a table that stretches from end to end. To sit at one side would make it impossible to have a conversation with the other.
Atop the table is a beautiful red-haired female with her back arched and her breasts on display. And standing over her, thrusting into her, is King Malachi.
