Son of Saints: A Dark YA Fantasy Adventure: Renegade Guardians: Book Two

by Kyra Quinn

  -The Sacred Texts, 52:12

  Daeva appeared in the darkness. She stood in a sea of nothingness with a smile as bright as the afternoon sun on her crimson lips. A deep plum dress covered her svelte figure, an onyx satin half-corset laced around her narrow waist. Her dark curls spilled out from behind her crown.

  “Well, well, well. Has our little hero found herself in a spot of trouble? Poor thing. So brave, but so rash and impulsive. The blood mage is wearing off on you.”

  “What do you want? Where is Remiel?”

  Daeva shook her head and chuckled. “So ill-mannered. I expected better from a girl with your upbringing.”

  “You know nothing about my upbringing—”

  “Don’t I?” she smirked, tilting her chin. “Who do you think left you in his care, Lilianna? Who hid you away from your Archangel father and any of Zanox’s men so you could live a happy, normal life for as long as possible? I may not know every detail of your childhood, but I have the utmost faith in the man who raised you. He raised me until I left home one night after an argument.”

  “Why are you telling me this? Is it supposed to endear me to you? Because I don’t foresee that happening after you tried to murder me and kidnapped my friend.”

  Daeva scoffed. “Hardly. But you have no one to blame but yourself for any of this. I offered you the world, Lilianna. All you had to do was join me.”

  “In wiping out Astryae? Are you mad?”

  “And what do you know of this world or the people in it? You’re a child.” Daeva shook her head, a sarcastic laugh bubbling from her lips. “You think yourself so clever, but you have the understanding of an infant. Your father’s influence, no doubt.”

  “They don’t deserve to die.”

  “Don’t they?” Her expression darkened as her lips curled over her fangs. “No matter what the stories might suggest, I was not born a monster. They made me this when they sacrificed me to the Shadowrealm to save their own skin. They have earned every bit of this.”

  I don’t know what I’d hoped for her to say, but her cold insistence struck me as if she’d reached over and slapped me. Daeva had no interest in bringing the gods back to the Elysian Gardens. Vengeance consumed her every thought.

  Daeva spread her arms out beside her as if to embrace me. “Heed this warning, daughter. The time is almost upon us. Once the stars fall from the sky, there is no going back. Choose your alliances with care. No matter what they’ve led you to believe, your ragtag group of friends cannot save you from what’s to come.”

  Daeva disappeared before I argued or question her further. I wanted to believe I’d imagined her likeness, that my mother had no way into my head unless I invited her with my thoughts. But her words continued to haunt me long after her image faded away, her warning quickening my heartbeat until I feared it might explode.

  “Lili?” A new voice sliced into my mind, and for a moment I couldn’t decide if I’d imagined it. “Lili, can you hear me? Sweet shadows, what happened to her?”

  “She hasn’t woken up long enough for me to ask,” a woman with the gravelly voice of a chronic pipe smoker answered. “A few of the little ones were out playing when they found her. They say she fell from the clouds. She a faerie?”

  Aster cleared her throat. “Lilianna is a winged Fey, yes. We appreciate you taking her in.”

  The woman sighed. “I’ve done my best to keep her comfortable, but I can’t work no miracles.”

  “Meaning?”

  “It means she can’t save her,” a new voice, this one masculine but soft, answered. “How low are her odds of recovery?”

  “Pray to whatever gods you worship,” the woman answered.

  A strangled grunt escaped my closed lips as I wrenched my eyes open. Spots of light danced in front of my blurred vision. A small gasp echoed from my right as the room fell silent. Three shadowy faces came to hover over me.

  “Lili,” Aster whispered my name like a blessing. “Gods, what were you thinking? Are you all right?”

  “Of course she isn’t,” the male said. “Look at her.”

  “Where am I?” I rasped.

  “You are in the village of Leselus, child,” the old woman answered. “The people here call me Orinia. I have tended to your injuries since your fall.”

  The figure in the center stepped closer. An elderly woman came into focus. Her skin resembled well-worn leather. She clutched a pile of blankets against her chest, her knuckles white. A simple linen dress hung from her bony shoulders. Her small almond eyes twinkled in the candlelight. A sheer ivory scarf covered her silvered hair. Her thin, wrinkled lips pulled into a gummy smile.

  “Thank you,” I said, my voice still hoarse. “Your kindness saved my life.”

  Orinia shook her head as the smile slipped from her lips. “I pray so, but it’s too soon to say for certain. You have injuries on the inside the best of my medicines can’t help.”

  “She needs something more potent than some herbal tea,” the male voice returned. “And something to snack on. Poor thing is starving.”

  Their faces slowly faded into focus. Aster’s thin brows furrowed with worry as her amber eyes swept over me for confirmation I would survive. A scrawny male twice her size stood next to her in a dark pair of trousers and coat. Midnight hair fell to his shoulders. In a different light, his sharp jaw and smooth voice might have made my heart flutter. But one glance at his onyx eyes sent a new ache through my chest.

  I blinked and placed a hand over my stomach, groaning as a wave of nausea gripped me. Acid burned the back of my throat. Though I hadn’t eaten since leaving Aster’s, the mere mention of food caused my stomach to churn.

  “And what do you suggest we feed her?” Aster snapped. “Blood?”

  “What is it with you and the bloodlust?” He reached a hand towards me and asked, “My dear, do you remember when you first fell ill?”

  I did, but I didn’t see how he knew about my illness or what business it was of his. I turned to Aster and demanded, “Who is this demon?”

  The stranger scoffed and placed a hand over his chest. “Demon? Do all Shadowfey look alike to you?”

  “She grew up in Faomere, hidden among the passives,” Aster said. “I imagine most of them do to her.”

  “Not a demon, love.” He shot a glance towards the healer frozen in the room's corner. “Though the rest is difficult to explain in mixed company.”

  “Don’t mind me,” Orinia said with a deep chuckle. “All passives ain’t the same. Not around these parts. I always found you magical folk fascinating.”

  The man and Aster laughed in unison, as if the two of them had shared some inside joke only they heard. My jaw clenched. If the healer understood half of the responsibility I’d inherited with my powers, she’d soon realize nothing about ‘magical folk’ deserved praise.

  “His name is Seth,” Aster said, jerking her chin in the man’s direction. “We can explain the rest when we get you back to Carramar. How are you feeling?”

  Like I’d been trampled to death by a stampede of wild stallions. “Better. Not great, but better.”

  The one called Seth crouched next to my bed and placed his hand on mine. My arm twitched, his touch like ice. “I am here to aid you and Aster in any way I can. That means figuring out what you feed on so we can return you to fighting shape. Can you tell me when you first noticed you didn’t feel well?”

  I closed my eyes. “When Aster left.”

  Aster let out a shaky breath that communicated a thousand words. The weight of her regret choked the air. “What does it mean?”

  “The ancient Crowian philosopher Yaotl once said those with souls touched by shadows could only survive in Astryae if they sustained themselves on the lifeforce of others.”

  “But what is she feeding on?” Aster asked. Her eyes swept over my face as if searching for clues until I squirmed beneath the heat of her gaze.

  I rubbed my hands over my face. “I don’t—”

  A primal growl escaped Aste
r’s clenched teeth. Her hands flew to her head and covered her ears. She sank to her knees, her eyes closed and face twisted in pain. “Saints and shadows, what is happening?”

  “Aster!” I tried to run to her, but the slightest movement of my body caused a fresh wave of agony to cripple me.

  Seth dropped to the floor next to her. He placed a hand on her back and whispered something in her ear, but her anguished cries covered his voice. Orinia wrapped her arms around her waist and shot me a panicked glance as if to beg me to help her.

  After a few moments, Aster’s body went limp. Her body trembled against the floor. Tiny whimpers escaped her lips as a thin trail of blood leaked from her nostrils. Seth reached down and scooped her birdlike body into his arms.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice low.

  Aster shuddered. “I don’t know how to explain what happened. I don’t—I can’t—I think Viktor is in trouble.”

  The words hit me like a punch to the stomach. “What?”

  She rose to her feet and shook her head. “I don’t know for sure. The images came in fragments, like a series of photographs.”

  “What did you see?” I demanded, my chest tight.

  “A castle. Viktor and his wolf friend. A noose…”

  I didn’t need to hear anymore. “How do we find him?”

  “Another adventure?” Seth asked, his voice high.

  Aster chuckled. “Welcome to the family, friend. We live an adventurous life. The only castle that size is in Wyvenmere. We can reach it in a day’s time.”

  “What about her?” Seth asked with a skeptical glance towards me.

  My cheeks warmed. “Help me up.”

  “Lili—”

  “Help. Me. Up. I will burn their entire palace to the ground if it saves Viktor.”

  Aster sighed in resignation and shook her head. “Help me carry her, Seth.”

  “You can’t be seri—”

  “If we leave her here, she’ll get herself in trouble again. At least we can monitor her if she travels with us.”

  A grin tugged at my cheeks. “She speaks from experience.”

  Seth scowled, but he reached down and looped his arm under me. “Let’s hope you heal fast. I refuse to carry anyone all the way to Wyvenmere.”

  * * *

  “Absolutely not. I will fly back on my own.” I folded my arms over my chest and jutted my chin.

  Aster had ordered me to heal myself as much as possible, but pain still shot up my legs with each step. Every breath sent a dull ache through my chest, my head throbbing. Aster had thanked Orinia and slipped a handful of bronze coins into her hand, then pulled me out into the brisk night air.

  She and Seth led me into the woods to a pair of winged mares with nostrils the size of my head. Frigid air nipped at my skin through the thin fabric of my borrowed dress. Thin, barren trees reached for the starry sky above like fingers clawing out from a grave.

  Aster scoffed. “And risk falling from the sky again? I think not. You are still recovering from your injuries, Lili. You can’t risk sustaining more.”

  “And you want me to believe I’m safer on the back of a monster? Are you mad?” I stole a glance at the pegasi. A chill ran down my arms, tiny goosebumps left in its wake. The massive black mare snarled and stomped his hoof against the ground in response, our distrust mutual. His mane floated around him as if dancing in a nonexistent breeze. He locked his eyes onto my face and grunted. “Thank you for the rescue, but I am better off on my own.”

  Her new friend rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his short dark hair. “Right, because that was working out so well for you before we arrived. Listen, friend, I understand your reluctance towards the pegasi. They are majestic but deadly creatures, but you have no reason to fear them. Your soul is shadow kissed.”

  My hands shook as I fought back the urge to sink my fist into the side of his jaw. Whatever demonic dimwit Aster had thrown her loyalty in with this time had no right to speak to me about the condition of my soul. He knew nothing about me besides the tales Aster had told in my absence. He had no place to speak to me as if we were friends.

  I whirled on Aster instead, hand locked on my hip. “Did our time with Andras teach you nothing?”

  “Seth isn’t a demon.”

  He snorted. “A common misconception. Shadowfey are more similar in nature to the Feyfolk than demons. The only trait we share with demons is the same as yourself; the Dark Mother gave us life. Or so the story goes.”

  I arched a brow. “Do you question the story?”

  “Often. Skepticism is healthy, a sign of a strong mind and independent will. And the first vampire roamed Astryae long before the first recorded mention of Daeva.”

  My blood turned to ice. “You’re a-a vampire?”

  Seth smirked. “Of sorts. I have no thirst for blood, if you’re concerned. I feed on something far less conspicuous. We may have that in common.”

  Aster winced. “Seth—”

  I gave his chest a hard shove without thinking. Seth stumbled a few steps back, his eyes wide.

  “Watch your tongue,” I barked. “I am nothing like you.”

  Seth chuckled. “Are you so sure? How have you felt since Aster and I arrived?” He tilted his head and crossed his arms over his chest. “Your bones may not have healed yet, but I’d wager a guess your internal damage is gone.”

  “What does she feed on?” Aster demanded.

  Seth shrugged. “Hard to say without further investigation. She was hours away from death when we found her. Now she’s fine, and my bloody head is killing me.”

  “It must have something to do with the Fey,” Aster said with a slow nod. “Morrigan and I had similar complaints before my trip to Killara.”

  Seth shook his head. “We can figure all that out later. Now get on the damn horse and help us save the wolf you two claim to care for.”

  My breath caught in my throat. Aster’s vision had caught me off guard as much as anyone else in the room. When she suggested Viktor might need help, all my senses crumbled to dust. Viktor would drop everything to rescue me in the blink of an eye. Remiel had sacrificed himself to Daeva to save me. I owed it to them to do everything in my power to save them, injured or not.

  But for the first time since I’d awakened, only my head continued to pound with a persistent headache. The stiffness in my neck had vanished, the ache of my limbs gone with it. Whatever magic Aster and Seth had performed had worked. The only broken thing I could sense was my heart.

  “Last chance before we leave you here,” Seth had warned with a frown. “Places to be and all.”

  I grumbled under my breath as I mounted behind Aster and pressed my hands against her waist. “Since when do you have visions, anyway? How can we be certain Viktor is in danger?”

  Aster shrugged. “We can’t. Someone must have sent me the vision, though I don’t know who or how. But if he needs us, I refuse to fail him.” She didn’t finish the rest of her sentence, but I could hear the words whispered in the breeze. ‘I refuse to fail him like we did Remiel.’

  I locked eyes with Seth. “I hope your beasts are swift. We have an execution to interrupt.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Body of Proof

  Be wary of those who claim to glimpse the future. Though the gods may share their knowledge with some, Zanox has been known to spread an equal amount of duplicitous visions.

  -The Sacred Texts, 5:19

  “No royal welcome this time?” Jett asked with a lazy grin when they approached the castle gates. “Have we worn out our welcome so soon?”

  They had expected to find Ambrose waiting for them. Instead, two unknown women stood in his place in front of the gatehouse. The taller of the two stood eye-to-eye with Viktor, her body covered in a full suit of sleek onyx armor. Her skin rivaled the moon in paleness, but the thick braid of hair tied down her back reminded Viktor of steel forged in fire. The silver strands shimmered in the sunlight while the red tips glowed. But as impressi
ve as her uniform and stature were, her eyes struck Viktor the most. One shared the same pale blue as the royals, the other a darker grey than storm clouds.

  “Are you the shapeshifters?” she asked, her mouth twisted into a frown.

  “They are,” the other woman answered for them. She reached no higher than her companion’s ribs, but she glared at her with open contempt behind her thick-rimmed glasses. She wore a simple floral dress and slippers, her white hair pinned to the back of her head to resemble a schoolteacher. The corners of her eyes and forehead were creased with age. “Late again, but Ambrose suggested we should expect as much.”

  “Have we met?” Viktor asked, though he knew they hadn’t. If he had to guess, the older woman had to be Hemani.

  “His Majesty has asked that I escort you and the Queen’s consort to the gardens,” the younger woman said, her nose crinkling.

  The old woman scoffed. “This is what you deal with when you work for demigods. One moment the king banishes you, the next his little pet drags you back to court and hurls insults at you the entire time.”

  “King Dyius banished you?” Jett asked. “Funny, he mentioned nothing about it when we last spoke.”

  “The gods move in mysterious ways, but demigods make calculated moves. Tread with care, wild ones. The royal court does not adhere to your sense of honor or justice.”

  “Move,” the soldier said, her fingers curling around her sword. “Queen Moara does not like to wait.”

  Viktor followed the woman through the palace grounds. Jett and Hemani trailed behind them. His boots sank into the damp grass with each step, though he hadn’t noticed a single drop of rain since their arrival in Wyvenmere. The courtyard sat empty other than a few servants scurrying around the grounds, the sun’s gentle warmth wasted.

  Beds of flowers soon surrounded them on either side. The warrior woman led them down a winding stone walkway lined with alternating rows of white roses and blue hibiscuses in full bloom. Flute-like music poured out from the tree branches overhead. Water trickled in the distance, the entire garden too tranquil for Viktor’s comfort. He cursed Jett for forcing him to attend as they turned a corner to find the royals waiting.