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“He suspects some of our Cast are corrupt. He spelled them to keep them safe,” Jameis said as he turned his head. “Do you have them?” He looked at Tove and handed her a small pouch. “You do not need to tell me if you do, or where they are. Put this in water, get them to drink half each. It will cleanse their blood of the drug,” Jameis said.
Tove lowered her dagger as she snatched the pouch from him. “You have saved them both before,” she said quietly. “You will save them again tonight.” Shoving him in the back to move forward, Tove ordered him briskly. “Walk.”
Cord stared at his hands as he sat in the snow. Blood dripped from them, and he watched the red stain the unblemished snow below. With his face full of anguish, he looked to the blue sky in search of an answer.
“Velvore!” he screamed to the empty blue sky above him.
My son.
“You have to help me.” Cord felt the tears threaten to slip down his cheeks, and that only saddened him more.
You are the Mark of Velvore and the Mark of Velvore is you.
Cord dropped his head into his hands, regardless of the blood on them. “That means nothing, I killed him.”
You do what I decree.
Cord shook his head even as his fingers tightened in his hair, pulling at it in frustration. “Tell me, tell me what to do.”
The Mark will guide you, my son, the Mark will guide you when you are lost. You are the Mark and the Mark is you.
“I am lost now!” Cord shouted furiously at the sky, startling nearby birds with his cry, causing Cord to glare around at his surroundings, daring any other living creature to try his wrath.
Her home sat innocently behind him. The pale-yellow timbers and white wraparound porch looked welcoming. He had been in the house once before, briefly. He knew it well enough to portal into it again. However, it felt like an intrusion after what he had done.
Cord looked at the body beside him. Its throat was viciously sliced almost to the point of decapitation, but he had not completed the final stroke. Glazed eyes stared at him in accusation. Cord closed his own eyes, hiding from the look as he sought the voice of the Ancient to be met only with silence.
“You serve me riddles,” Cord snapped in anger as he rose to his feet. “Riddles and misdirection at every turn,” he muttered angrily as he walked to the house. In fury, he kicked the door open. There was no need to portal when his foot just as easily opened the door. He looked around the house with its soft neutral furnishings. It had her stamped all over it, from the soft flutter of the drapes as the wind caught them to the white pillar candles on the fireplace. A stocked fire ready to light was waiting, welcoming. Cord kicked at the logs in temper, causing some to spill to the floor.
As he passed through the kitchen to the stairs, he paused at the training room. Mats and punchbags were set, ready for their master’s return. The wall filled with kali sticks, swords, daggers, throwing knives—they hung there ready, as if to mock him. The wall was full,itsduty served.
Cursing, Cord took the stairs two at a time and hesitated before pushing her door open. White bedding, white walls, white furnishings. Everything waswhite.Pure. Likeher. His lip snarled in disgust. In resentment, he wiped his dirty feet on the plush cream carpet, revelling in the dark stains of his boots. Blood still sporadically dripped from his hand, too wet still to have dried, and he shook his fist out, sending a pathetic spray over the floor. That only incensed him further.
Turning his back on her room, he made his way to her father’s room. Leaning against the doorframe, he glared at the furniture as if they had purposely offended him. Darker tones accentuated the room, but it was still tasteful, elegant, refined…likehim.
Cord did not mark this room. As he turned away, a bundle on the desk caught his eye. He hesitated and then walked away, heading to the stairs. With a curse, he turned back and strode into the room, his anger rising again when he saw a note with his name on it, recognising the handwriting. Tearing it open, his fingers tightened on the edge of the thick linen paper as he read.
Son,
I have failed you. I always knew I would. You see the world in a different colour scheme than I do. I see black and white, and you see grey with every changing shade of colour throughout. I envy you your sight, my son.
And you aremyson. I raised you. I taught you. That half smirk you wear when you have been too clever, that is my smirk. The way you walk with your head high and your shoulders back, I taught you that. The confidence you have in who you are and what you believe, that is my confidence in you and in your brother. Confidence in the knowledge that you love your brother more than you even love your casting. Tell Sloane to embrace who he is, he is one of the better Akrhyn this world can have. Strong, loyal, and above all, true. Do not let him lose his internal light. They will test him, but I know, because of you, he is ready.
I have failed you both as your father, but I will not letyoufail.
The Court of the Made can be reopened, the answer was in front of you all this time. Beware the Great Council, my son, they are not your allies. Beware the silver tongue.
With my heart, I wish you well, you can overcome anything, you are Cord Ivanov. My love for my family was my greatest strength and biggest weakness, never let it be yours. You are so much more, Cord, never forgetwhoyou are.
Your father,
Cornelius Ivanov
Cord read the note three times before he reached forward and almost hesitantly lifted a corner of the cloth wrapping. The book was a child’s book from when they were younger,A Lycan’s Adventure, Cord must have read it to Sloane a thousand times or more when they were young. He read his brother’s inscription to him on the front page.
Cord,
To keep with you always and know I am with you, even when I cannot be.
