AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Didn’t Kryach owe me a love of my choosing? Not whichever soul bounty he preferred to gnaw upon. A love strong enough to conquer Death itself and save me from this choice I’d made? Or perhaps the Curse?
Kryach hissed inside my mind,Give up your vain and foolish dreams, Allysteir. They bore me.
Right,I retorted sarcastically.Because the High Gods would never admit to the existence of the Curse-Ender. The World-Mender?
You’ve managed to impress me far more in your first year than any other King in centuries, bastard Prince. Donotmake me regret my decision,he growled. His deathly shades imprisoned me, lacing his dark fire into my being. Harsh and fatalistic, enough to drive me to my knees to fracture their caps.Youwillappease my hunger tonight.
I grit my teeth but managed to retort,As you wish, Kryach.
Several feet from my person, Aydon’s ceremonious voice rose an octave to make an announcement from the throne. Oh, how he savored the opportunity to assume my position. Not that I’d cared. In Kryach’s words, politics bored me.
Unlike the spry young woman wearing black to blend in with the shadows on the far side of the dais—close to the Citadel halls leading to the servants’ quarters. No, she didnotbore me. Especially when she diverted the guards standing sentry before the royal table by tossing smoke sticks—no doubt purchased from a Wisp-Shee—down the servant quarter stairs and hiding in the shadows. No shadows could conceal her, much less anyone, from me.
Kryach’s shrug contrasted my piqued curiosity.She is far too petite and slight, Allysteir. A King can do better. Narrow hips would never do well for bearing a child. Much less could her small breasts appease a wee newborn, much less a King.
I snorted.I thought I was a bastard Prince.When Kryach snarled, I taunted him,What do you care? All you desire is their soul.
Kryach didn’t bother responding. Yes, he would reap the profits of a bride’s blood and flesh when I did, but one should never judge outward appearances. Kryach knew such a scruple better than me.
A strange firefly flutter expanded my chest when the maidyan vaulted from the long royal table. I held my breath as she seemed to soar through the air like a graceful bird until she rolled expertly, masterfully, and landed in a flawless crouch upon the corner of the dais. All the royals and the party-goers were oblivious to the acrobatic girl who’d somehow cheated the River Cryth.
Not me where I stood beyond the curtains of the secondary hall. A lock of golden hair escaped the dark cap upon her head. True she did not possess the breed of heartier hips preferred by the Court Ithydeir, but I appreciated her slender figure girded in the form-fitting black suit. The closer she approached, stealing behind the curtain, the fragrance of hawthorn and heather from her body and blood greeted me. A maid from the country. It was as if I could detect another scent thanks to the God of Death’s recent inhabitance: the scent of Doom. As if a host of ban-Sythe ghosts haunted her steps. A scent meant as an omen to steer me from such a girl. But I cocked my head to the side, more intrigued.
After all, no one had ever managed to vault clear over the River Cryth.
Whatever could this young maidyan desire within the Citadel of Bones?
The God of Death sighed, clearly bored of my keen interest as the maidyan paused the moment we came face to face. Or rather face to mask. I smirked behind my outer face because the girl tensed. Her hand strayed to her belt where an iron-studded dagger hilt reared its head. She reminded me of a wild, skeletal mare in Nathyan Ghyeal’s depths. Untameable, demanding respect and privacy.
Or at least I’d assumed privacy...until she closed the distance between us, gripped my glove, and tugged me toward the closest hall. “Hurry,” she urged, her voice rich yet delicate, much like the chocolate cakes our finest chef loved to offer. “There’s not much time.” Her face was just as pleasing. Her skin was silken and pale but dusted with freckles too numerous to count as if speckled by brown sugar crystals.
Regardless of the host of questions preying on my tongue, I caged them. And played along.
“What’s your name?” the girl asked, but before I could answer, she prattled on, “I’m Finleigh, but friendsandenemies call me Finn.”
“And what enemies could such an exquisite maidyan possibly have?”
She paused at the end of the hall, blinked at me. “Well, you are quite the charmer of a steward, aren’t you?”
Kryach chuckled inside me. I battled my rolling laughter. This lovely lady believed I was a steward. A charming one.
Trust me, Allysteir. She is no lady, I assure you.
Shut ye’re mouth, Kryach. Over my cock,I added for good measure.
He roared laughter.Give her a good coin, and she’ll be more than willing to do such for you. And much more.
“Call me Ally,” I encouraged her, closing my gloved hand over hers, ignoring Kryach which had become a personal art form over the past year. By no means was I an expert. Yet.
She nodded. Smiled. Not a sweet smile. No, her smirk was mischievous, breeding with secrets.
Yes, she’s collected many in her time. Most of them fruitless. Until recently,echoed Kryach, and I held back the urge to huff frustration through my nostrils. Kryach could merely glimpse beyond this young woman’s deep blue eyes to unearth the tapestry of her soul. A power he’d never shared with me. No, all I’d received were his damned shades with the ability to soothe the dying to eternal slumber. And the rotted corpse, of course.
It wasn’t long before I discovered the nature of the secret she’d learned. I hoped she didn’t pick up on my jaw turning rigid or the subtle grinding of my teeth when she wooed Master Ivory and unlocked the Unseen Section. The first time I required Aryahn Kryach’s shades.
“Ahh! Perfect!” Finleigh squealed and selected a trophy among the multitude in the room: the second-best prized trophy. Most would believe it was the ultimate.
I eyed her from the side as she curled her fingers around my ancestor’s parietal skull bone: the original, the first Corpse King who had chosen to pass into the spirit realm with his bride rather than spend eternity watching his loved ones grow older and die.
