by Kyra Quinn
I shook my head, wrapping my arms around my waist as if to soothe a bellyache. “Since when do you wake early enough to prepare breakfast?”
“We have company,” she said, gesturing to Seth with her ladle. Her smile fell, and she turned her eyes back to her work. “Besides, Morrigan reached out this morning to let me know she’ll arrive around dinnertime. I owe her more than a plate of food, but I have some business to attend to first.”
I winced. “Have you talked to her since—”
“Since I stole away in the night without so much as a goodbye?” A sarcastic laugh bubbled from her mouth. “No. I’m sure she’s still upset with me, though. I have no idea what to say.”
Not sure I wanted to witness her reaction, I glued my eyes on the small window above the wash sink and shrugged. “An apology might be a good start.”
Aster groaned. “She already knows I’m sorry, Lili. Regret tore at me the moment I stepped out of the gate. A simple apology won’t fix this mess.”
“Morrigan and I aren’t mind readers.” I rubbed my temples, struggling to find the words to get through Aster’s thick skull. “It’s unfair to assume we know how you’re feeling if you never communicate it with us. You may think she knows you’re sorry, but if you never say it, how can she ever know for sure?”
Aster’s cheeks flushed. “I—I don’t—”
“Tell her you’re sorry,” I said, lowering my voice. I leaned forward and held her hands, squeezing once. “Ask her what you can do to make things right between you.”
“What if there’s nothing?” She refused to lift her head to meet my stare, her eyes fixated on the bubbling pot of pumpkin porridge on the cooking stove. “What if I’ve crossed the line one too many times? I’d understand if she refused to forgive me.”
“She won’t. Morrigan loves you as much as you love dusty old books.”
Aster threw her head back and laughed. “Gods, I hope you’re right. I—”
A sharp knock at the front door interrupted her sentence. The three of us froze, our eyes wide with panic.
“The girlfriend?” Seth asked, hopeful.
Aster shook her head. “Too early.”
Demons or angels wouldn’t knock. They’d blow the door off and kill anything that moved. But the rationalization does little to slow the racing of my heart.
“Wait here,” Aster said, scurrying towards the front door. “Maybe it’s one of the neighbors.”
“Wait!”
Too late. The front door creaked open before the word finished leaving my tongue. Aster gasped. The knots in my stomach twisted and knotted until I wanted to curl up on the hardwood floor. Despite her wards and spells, trouble had found us. The battle had come straight to our door, and we were woefully unprepared.
“You’re alive!” Aster squealed.
Alive? I released a shaky breath and tried to peer over Aster’s pocket-sized frame. Whoever had arrived stood far enough back to remain out of view. Seth shot me a bemused glance, his eyes flickering between me and doorway. I snatched a butcher’s knife from the wooden block on Aster’s counter and raced towards the front door. Thank Rhayer Seth had taken the time to help me feed the night before. Whatever stupid soul had come for us would regret it the moment I drove my blade into their neck.
When I rounded the corner, however, Aster had her arms thrown around the visitor’s neck. The knife in my hand trembled. What the—
Remiel. The moment Aster released his neck, the angel straightened his spine and flashed me a smile over the top of her head. His ashen skin appeared stretched over his pronounced cheekbones and face. Dark circles rimmed his pale blue eyes. A small but deep cut split his left eyebrow. Dried blood the color of rust and dirt covered his white button-up shirt. His flesh hugged his bones, and for a moment I worried his ghost had arrived at the door to demand we avenge his death. I had never believed in ghosts or spirits, but it seemed easier to believe than the image before me.
“Hey, kiddo,” Remiel said with a strained wink. His face scrunched as if it hurt to move. Horror and awe spread through me. A spirit wouldn’t experience pain on a physical level like the angel in front of me. Aster moved aside and allowed Remiel in, his eyes still stuck on me. “We have catching up to do.”
* * *
Aster put on a kettle the moment Remiel stepped into the kitchen. An uncomfortable silence fell over the room while we waited for the water to heat. Remiel stole suspicious glances at Seth from the corner of his eye, too polite to ask aloud how we’d found ourselves in the company of a Shadowfey. After the kettle screamed and Aster finished preparing the tea, we sat around the table in the corner of her kitchen, all holding our breath as if waiting for someone to break the silence.
I took the time to study Remiel’s face, half terrified it was all some terrible lie, or a trick sent by Daeva. How had anyone persuaded her to free Remiel? The Shadowrealm never returned anything claimed as their own. The weight loss and sleepless nights had taken their toll on him. He appeared as if he’d aged ten years in his few weeks away.
Aster found her voice first. She cleared her throat and asked, “I take it this means Viktor’s deal with Queen Moara worked out?”
Remiel frowned. “I would assume so. Some brave soul rode into Shadow City on the back of some shadow beast and demanded to speak with Zanox. She told him someone named Maya or Moara was calling in the favor he owed her, and she demanded my release at once. She didn’t wait for a response. Just rode back out and disappeared. Zanox released me minutes later and told me to return to Carramar. Why, what has Viktor done? Where is he?”
“Starbright.” I said the word as if it were a swear. “In exchange for your freedom, Viktor agreed to travel to where Clan Kinzhal once ruled and salvage what he can of the wolf pack.”
A tense silence suffocated the room. We all sat watching Remiel, waiting for some sort of reaction or response. But Remiel stared right through us with a blank expression. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words followed.
“He said he’d return as soon as possible,” Aster added, back in front of her overcooked breakfast. “When he’s fulfilled his end of the deal to secure your freedom.”
Remiel’s face darkened. “That may take longer than any of us have. The wolves have roamed free for decades and establish their own packs. I am not sure how quick they will be to give up their way of life.”
Seth leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. “I take it you’re the infamous angel, then? The girls told me all about you. Though I must admit, from their description I pictured you taller.”
“And you are?” Remiel asked. His eyes narrowed into a glare. “Besides another bad idea waiting to blow up in Aster’s face.”
“Hey!” Aster cried, leaning forward to slap Remiel’s hand with the end of her ladle.
But Seth chuckled. “Fair enough. I never expected to find myself in so many near-death experiences when I left Killara.”
“Aster is nothing if not exciting,” Remiel agreed, his voice flat. “I assume they recruited you from Killara for a purpose?”
“To be determined,” Aster said. “Seth has unique talents we need time to figure out the best use for. Besides, his kind are in as much danger as anyone else in Astryae. Has he no right to help defend his home?”
Remiel scowled. “Shadowfey are not known for their altruism.”
“And angels aren’t known for their empathy,” Seth pointed out, “yet here we are. We’re both a bit more complex than a stereotype, eh?”
“We need all the help we can get,” Aster said, dropping her voice. “Elitism will only weaken our defenses.”
Remiel’s eyes flickered between Seth and Aster. He made a noise of frustration. “Very well. I suppose it is progress from the demons you tried to make friends with.”
“Did my mother say anything?” I leaned forward, no longer able to tolerate small talk. We could discuss the weather when Viktor returned, when the fate of the world didn’t hang in the balance
. “When is this war supposed to arrive?”
“Funny thing about that,” Remiel said, “Daeva had little to say about any of it. I think torture brings her more pleasure than her existence ever has. Zanox, on the other hand…”
I shuddered. “When does he plan to strike?”
“When the angels do. If we can trust the god of chaos and trickery, he has no more desire to watch Astryae burn than we do. The survival of his realm depends on the survival of ours.”
Aster’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why? Daeva and Zanox can create demons without souls to twist and corrupt. What use do they have for Astryae?”
“Half the Shadowfey feed on passives,” Remiel reminded her. “And their realm is powered by the energy of corrupted souls. No more souls, no more power.”
Aster shook her head. “Zanox is plotting something. From what I gathered from the little time I spent with him, he cares about no one and nothing but himself and his own amusement. If the angels wiped Astryae out, he’d collect enough souls from the wreckage to fuel his city for eternity. These are dark times. We can’t afford to trust the demon king.”
“I never once said we trust him,” Remiel said with a scoff. “I am only relaying to you what he said in between interrogations.”
“He lied,” Aster said, slamming her fist against the table so hard the teacups rattled. I jumped. “That’s what Zanox does. Or do you not remember the time he impersonated the god Osius and sent us into the Shadowrealm for a chuckle?”
“A test,” Remiel corrected. His eyes flickered over towards me. “Zanox wanted to test what might happen if Daeva and her long-lost daughter were reunited. He wondered if Lili might fall to the shadows if offered a relationship with the mother she never had as a girl.”
“As if that makes it better,” Aster snapped. “Zanox is a spider. He weaves a web of lies so intricate anyone foolish enough to step too close finds themselves caught in his trap. He is every bit as dangerous as the angels. Forgetting that could prove a fatal mistake.”
Remiel shook his head and pressed his lips together until they disappeared. “What else did I miss?”
Aster and I took turns catching Remiel up on the things we’d learned in his absence. When we finished, he leaned back in his chair and frowned up at the ceiling.
“There is no part of this situation I like. If the king keeps his word—and that is a massive ‘if—what can a handful of guards do against a battalion of angels armed with swords of holy fire and weapons blessed by the gods? The progress is good, but it will not save us from destruction.”
Aster rubbed her temples. “We’ve had a lot on our plate since you left. We’re doing all we can.”
“Speaking of, I have a present for you, Aster.” He reached into the pocket of his ripped trousers. He withdrew his hand and opened his fingers to reveal a small chipped ruby. “It is not your stave, but—”
“My soul gem!” Aster shot out of her chair and snatched the rock from his hand. “Or what’s left of it, anyway. Sweet shadows, I thought I’d never hold this again.”
“Zanox gave it to me when he released me. Said he confiscated it from a few of Daeva’s guards,” he said. “Does the magic still work?”
“There isn’t enough left for a stave, but I can fashion a wand. If I feed the gem its blood, the power should work. It may take me some time to figure out how…”
She rose from the table as if in a daze, muttering to herself under her breath as she wandered away from the table and upstairs. Seth watched her leave with furrowed brows.
“Is this conversation over, then?” he asked. “What happened to breakfast?”
“We’re on our own until Morrigan arrives,” I said. “Remiel gave her a new puzzle to solve.”
“And no one is worried about why Zanox returned this gem?” Seth frowned. “This isn’t adding up.”
The same thought had occurred to me, but I banished it away. Aster was happier than I’d seen her since we first met. Only a callous jerk would try to take that from her or dampen her joy.
Remiel, however, shrugs. “With Zanox, his motives are anyone’s guess. Only time will tell what he is after.”
Seth frowned, his eyes following Aster up the staircase. “Ah. I suppose I should go rustle up something to eat, then. Can either of you provide me with directions to the nearest butcher’s stall?”
Remiel rose from his feet and led Seth out of the kitchen towards the front door. I propped my elbow on the table and cradled my chin in my hands while Remiel explained to Seth how he needed to follow the fork in the road left if he wanted to reach the marketplace before lunchtime. Seth thanked him for his help, and the front door groaned as it swung open and shut. I half hoped Remiel might accompany him and give me a moment to collect my thoughts. But heavy footsteps on the hardwood floors signaled his return, and I lifted my gaze to find him watching me with concern.
“Is everything all right with you?”
I didn’t mean to laugh, but the sound bubbled up my throat and past my lips like vomit. When Remiel raised an eyebrow in confusion, my amusement increased until tears burned my eyes. When I caught my breath, I wiped my eyes with the back of my arm and sighed. “Monsters still want me dead, a war on its way to our doors, and a mess of magic I don’t understand swimming through my veins. I am the furthest thing from all right.”
Remiel crossed the room to slide into the chair next to mine. He studied my face for a moment, then reached out and rested a hand on my shoulder. “None of this is easy, but you are stronger than you know. Train hard and keep the faith, love. This is not over yet.”
I forced a weak smile, but no part of me believed Remiel. What was left to have faith in? I had spent most of my childhood praying to gods who had forsaken us centuries ago. “Thank you. I hope you’re right.”
For everyone’s sake.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Corruption
Once the shadows turn a soul dark, not even divine intervention can restore it.
-The Sacred Texts, 2:27
Aster waited until high noon to return to the Grove. She’d left Lili in Carramar with Seth to continue her practice around intentional feeds, a topic only the animi had any expertise in. Remiel stood by her side instead, his hands buried in the pockets of a new pair of sleek charcoal dress slacks. A long soak in the washtub had done wonders to improve his appearance, but the dark circles under his eyes and paleness of his skin still left him with a ghostly aura.
“This is where you grew up?” he asked. His eyes wandered around the broken headstones and weeds of the cemetery. “I understand your temperament so much better now.”
Aster rolled her eyes. She hadn’t loved bringing Remiel along, but her earlier flirtation with death had stripped her confidence away and torn it to shreds. She hadn’t trusted herself to survive the journey to Starbright, let alone find the strength to saunter into her old coven.
“I don’t need you to come inside. As soon as I return the necklace, we can leave.”
“Are you sure?” he asked. “It’s no trouble—”
She shook her head, gaze fixed on the moss growing up the side of the stone mausoleum. “Thank you, Remiel, but I have this under control. Stealing the amulet was my mistake. It’s my responsibility to make things right. But I appreciate you coming with me. I’ve never cared for trains.”
Remiel frowned, but he had spent enough time in her company to know better than to press the issue. “I will wait here for you, then. In the snow. Alone.”
Aster threw her head back and laughed. Despite the troubled early stages of their relationship, she had missed the angel more than she’d ever allow herself to admit. “It won’t take me long. Let me give Madre back her cursed hunk of metal and we’ll take our leave.”
Remiel muttered something under his breath about how he’d never agreed to supervise a group of ruffians, but Aster didn’t stick around to listen. She shuffled through the snow towards the heavy stone doors of the mausoleum. She pressed her hand against the
outside of her coat pocket as she walked, afraid to make more contact with the amulet than necessary. She could still feel the burn of the brand it had left on her chest days after removing it and cleansing herself of its dark magic.
When she reached the colossal stone doors, Aster held her breath and pressed a shaky palm to the center of the doors. Her palm tingled as a crimson glow seeped through the stone to surround her hand. The groan of the doors spoiled the silence of the dead. Aster froze. She waited for Madre or one of the other mages to appear, but not even the shuffle of feet appeared.
She crept into the familiar darkness, the doors swinging closed behind her. The torches on the wall sat cold, the mages below asleep until sunset. She tiptoed towards the back of the crypt, careful to limit the sound of her movements. So long as she didn’t make a mistake, she could return the cursed charm to the vault without ever confronting her mother’s wrath.
When her feet found the dented stone tile above her coven, she reached into the leather sheath strapped to her thigh and retrieved the dagger on top. She sliced the sharpened tip through the center of her palm and winced but forced herself to grit her teeth and ignore the rush of white-hot pain flooding her hand and trickling up her arm. She squeezed her hand into a fist and turned it to allow the blood to drip onto the ground. A sizzle answered. The stone floor beneath her feet rumbled, the hole opening around her feet. Aster wrapped her arms around her waist and tucked her chin towards her chest. She closed her eyes and tried to block out the rush of wind pushing against her face and hair as she tumbled through the air. She didn’t open her eyes until her body crashed against a familiar worn area rug.
“Did we learn our lesson about toying with magic we don’t understand yet?” Madre’s voice echoed the moment landed. “Or does someone else need to die before you understand?”
Aster prayed a hole would open in the ground beneath her feet. She pushed herself onto her feet, her head still light from the fall. Fire rushed into her cheeks. A lump formed in her throat as she took a few steps forward on legs that trembled. She should have guessed her mother would sense her coming.