It wasn’t just for him. But he had hopes too.
“You jeopardized our family’s entire future with this madness,” Anton says. “How much power did those heroes you worship really have? Kan Aria commanded, what, a dozen barbarians? Prelleth held his mountains for two fucking years. The Binding gave ustruestrength. Military. Political. Another twenty years, the right marriages, and we could have ruled the entire country. But you were always too lost in your stupid stories to see that.”
“The Binding was a desecration.” Leth’s voice rises. “How many Dravans did the army have? Five hundred? Valor was so diluted, it took five soldiers to face a single vaidkos. With a true contract, it should be the other way around. The gods’ magic isn’t meant for a single nation’s army. It’s meant for the worthy, no matter where—”
Staggering, Leth hears the echoing smack of Anton’s backhand first, then feels the blunt impact ringing through his skull. Only then does pain burst through his cheek.
He pivots through his daze, drawing his sword, but Anton has already moved to the table. “If Valor is meant for the worthy, then where is yours?” He flexes his fingers, a slight smile returning to his face, then picks up the book. “Were you not worthy either, little brother?”
Face stinging, Leth can’t answer.
Only when Anton strides from the room do Leth’s joints unlock. He counts out his breaths and sheathes his sword. Touches the tender skin of his right cheek, wondering how bright the mark is. Wondering how fucking stupid he must be, to still think he could somehow win Anton’s approval.
Time to bury that goal, like all his other dreams.
?
CHAPTER TWO
EVAIN
Evain inspects himself in the mirror with a slight frown. He’d intended to dress conservatively, so as not to attract undue attention during his visit to the Bright Cathedral. Perhaps the dusky light of his suite in the Veiled Rose is to blame, but his severe braid only highlights his cheekbones and eyebrows, and the coat buttoned to his chin is too well tailored. The tight fit accentuates his shoulders, and the dark red fabric suits the golden tone of his skin. It would suit his natural eyes too if he dared let the crimson show.
What a shame.He winks at his own reflection.I’m just too attractive.
He’s been avoiding the Bright Cathedral ever since the Unbinding. Paladins sworn to Radiant Vara, a god of sun and truth, have always had a keen sense for demonic magic. Now that Vara is no longer imprisoned, there are fewer paladins with magic—but those that remain are far stronger than they were before. If Evain isn’t careful, a clever paladin could figure out his true nature. Abandoning this identity would be very inconvenient.
But he can’t avoid the Bright Cathedral forever, and he has a favor to ask of the Varans today. Or a favor to offer them—that’s how he’ll frame it. The prospect should be mutually beneficial if they accept.
Or mutually disastrous if they don’t.
Evain pats his mirror in farewell and picks a pair of black leather gloves, embroidered with red mahr blossoms, from the vanity. He’s playing human, after all, and the day is cold.
***
Maybe he should have worn a potato sack, Evain reflects as another priest pauses to stare at him. The little rush of power feels good, but he’s trying to be low-key here.
Most people in the Bright Cathedral, however, pay more attention to the young man leading Evain through the halls. Karis Cooper is the auburn-haired, freckle-faced Voice of Vara. Just eighteen years old, he might be even better at keeping a secret than Evain himself.
Evain senses absolutely no desire in Karis’s gaze, which may have something to do with the flash of metal he spots on the young man’s finger. That ring is definitely new, and Evain has lived among humans long enough to recognize the symbol.
Engagement and marriage are strange concepts to Evain. Willingly tying himself down to another person? Pledging his life to theirs? It sounds rather like a binding contract between a mage and a god, or a mage and a demon. Temporary contracts are bad enough, but permanent ones rarely end well for the demon. He ends up either trapped in an array or killed so the mage can use his power unimpeded.
There are advantages to modern Charain’s aversion to demons. When Evain first arrived in Lyrisenia, mages were much more eager to summon and bind. There were even some people who thought they could live forever, if they shared a demon’s lifespan. It never worked, though. Life-sharing requires too much trust and too few boundaries. No demon would be that willing, and no human would be that reckless.
Evain quite likes humans, but tying himself down to one is a bad idea for everyone involved. Better to move on and change his name every ten years or so, before people realize he doesn’t age.
He enjoys the friendships while they last, though. That’s why he’s stayed in this realm so long: he likes people. “Let me see that ring.”
Karis’s face lights up. “Isn’t it nice?” He waves his hand too quickly for Evain to actually look at the ring. “I’m annoyed that it’s winter. I don’t want to wear gloves over it.”
Evain cooperates with an appreciative whistle. “Lovely. And congratulations on locking Ronan down. Not that there’s any chance he’d refuse you, of course.”
Karis waves the ring around again. “How do you know I proposed first?”
“Because I’ve met Ronan,” Evain answers promptly, and Karis laughs.
They reach a small meeting room with a sunrise mural sweeping across the walls and sheer curtains hanging over the wide windows. A gaudy behemoth of a chair serves as a coat rack in the corner. Plain wooden chairs remain in more regular service around the rectangular table—which hosts a few more people than Evain expected.
