His fingers dug into my skin. Pleading. Terrified.
I rose, carrying the blade with me. My eyes first fell upon the fallen Paragon before rising to the horizon.
A black pall spread across the sky, across the border of Ceortha. The army of monsters had emerged from its bounds, and just as quickly, slipped back into its embrace.
Since its inception nearly a thousand years ago, the church has spoken of a great tide of shadow left behind by the gods: a test, a trial. So long as it poisoned our world, eternal night would reign, and the light would never return.
Nobody remembered what light was supposed to look like. Ceortha had proven insurmountable. Early incursions into its depths to chart its territory had failed. Over, and over.
One day, it would swell, the priests said, like an ocean tide burying the beach. At its head, the source of our woes—of evil—would arrive, though it would not appear so.
The harbinger of darkness. The last enemy standing in the way of our lost god.
Surrounded by the viscera of the dead, I recalled the way the dragon had looked upon me. The way it had nuzzled my face—the way a dog might its master’s. The way every monster had avoided me, spared me.
Gods . . .Tirnanog had vanished after my birth. I’d always considered it a mere coincidence, but what if I’d been the cause? What if, blind and oblivious, I’d carried a curse within my breast all these years?
The creature that would herald our end . . . was it me?
Chapter 6
Diar
At the same time, in the city of Tsuyan . . .
How severe would the punishment be for dumping wine on a lord’s head? I balanced the goblet between my fingers, staring at Lord Ishida's mop of black hair, longing to humble him.
My imagination would have to do for now—I was in no mood to be locked away again.
Setting the glass down on the table beside him, I grabbed my tray and moved on to the next man.
A hand brushed my leg, caressing from my thigh to my ass. Ishida leered at me as he returned his hand to his lap.
Forcing myself to keep a straight face, I ignored the burning in my cheeks and leg—like someone had rubbed poison where his fingers had been. Father caught my eye, as though warning me to keep quiet.
He held meetings like this with his captains once a month, but this dinner had come two weeks early, hastily arranged at the last moment. An Aenir diplomat named Finan Rohan had arrived, insisting he bore a message of the utmost urgency.
I paused behind the next captain, eyeing the Stormborn diplomat from Aenir. To the lords, I was a ghost. But this white-haired, pale-eyed man kept glancing at me, as if expecting me to give my opinion.
Perhaps daughters in Aenir were allowed to speak.
General Yuudai, my father, wore a stern expression etched in a permanent frown. His countenance had been stuck this way for five years, since the day my brother died.
"Had I not known better," Yuudai said. "I would think you wanted my men sent from the city to leave it defenseless."
Finan shifted in his seat. "We are all as one under Forlaith. You are valued allies. And Killian is not one to lie—if he believes something unusual is happening, then we should take preventative measures."
"None of my men have reported anything." Lord Ishida leaned forward.
I really hated his voice. Haughty, sneering, like he thought himself better than those he spoke to.
"I would think," Finan said tightly. “A Paragon knows more than the average foot soldier."
"A Paragon can still jump at shadows," Ishida said. "Nothing lives beyond the walls but mindless beasts. The garrisons stationed in the south have always been enough."
Crossing to the table's other side, I placed a wine goblet down by Finan. He looked up. "Thank you, dear."
Surprised, I lingered by his side. No one thanked me. My service was expected.
