She turned her head to the side and pressed her brow against her mother’s legs, seeking comfort where she knew there was none. There was nothing left of her mother, not since the day she became a thrall herself when Calavia was a child. It hurt to see her now, as if her mother had waited until this moment to come back.
During all these long, countless years, Calavia had doneeverythingshe could think of, everything in her power to bring her mother’s humanity back, but nothing had ever worked. And now Astegur was gone as surely as her mother was, and she no longer had the will to bring him back.
A roar filled her ears, and her head snapped up. Calavia wiped the tears from her cheeks and stared in the direction of the sound, her eyes going wide. He was still close enough for her to hear. She sat on her knees and listened.
More noises met her ears. Battle noises.The centaurs.
The air left her lungs, and her gaze searched the brume. She stood, shoved her hands in her pockets, and searched for wax within her skirts, but there was none. The time it would take her to get some may cost Astegur his life. The movement of her thralls caught her attention. Their creeping faces. Their pallid, white eyes. The stakes they all held with strength.
Calavia swallowed hard and straightened, her sadness rushing out of her. “Protect him. Protect Prayer.”
The thralls surged forward like spindly bugs, with a speed they rarely showed, and disappeared with their weapons held high before she could even finish the order.
Chapter Fourteen
He needed to get away.
Astegur clawed at his belly, feeling the mixture cook him from the inside out. The pain was intense, and unlike what he expected. There was always pain when enchantments, mysticism, and magic were involved. It was why he left his brothers to do the dirty work themselves—his affinity for it was nothing compared to theirs. And he hated everything intangible.
Something was happening inside his soul that he could not explain, but it felt like his connection to Calavia had been burned out of him. Like her spell had solidified and become a part of him, and now it was being torn away.
The pain from her compulsion had been terrible, but this was far worse. It was like something was rending him apart from deep within. The remembered bliss of his cock being inside her couldn't alleviate the agony—not even his desire to take her again, right now, despite his pain, helped.
He did not like it. He clutched his stomach and left her presence. She called after him, his ears filled with her pleas for him to stay, but he did not want to hear it.
What has she done to me? Little human hag.He wanted to believe her, keep her, breed her, but every time he began to feel more for her, his body prime for her, another accursed truth came to light.
There was only one way to find out if he could really trust her or not. He needed to know… But every step he took away from her clouded his intentions. It felt wrong. Her begging felt wrong.
Astegur shook his head and bellowed, releasing a gust of smoke from his belly. He reached the broken house at the edge of Prayer where his belongings were stored and grabbed his bone dagger, sheathing it. He pawed through the goblin’s bag and found one of the last blood vials within, drinking the contents in one go.
Orc, goblin, and pure human blood filled his mouth. He spat it out. The taste had gone putrid. The only blood he wanted now—the only blood hecraved—was the hag’s. He sneered down at the satchel for a moment before snatching it up and shredding it to pieces.
Was this what it was like for his sire and mother? Did Steelslash have the same problems as Astegur did? All he remembered of his parents were the fights, the violence, and their merciless, savage passion. His mother may have been human, but she was the only being in the world to bring his father to his knees.
Like Calavia had done to him.
Confusion struck him in the gut, and he stomped from the dwelling. There was only one way to find out. He pressed his fist to his chest hard, feeling the thundering of his hearts within. The pain of the magic began to fade away, and with it, a piece of Calavia. He thought he knew what he wanted, but now he wasn’t sure.
Astegur spied the ghostly green orbs in the distance and headed for them. When he came upon the first without being turned around, he moved to the next, and the next. He kept following them until there were none left to follow, until Prayer was at his back, and he had come out on the other side.
A strange feeling tickled his flesh.
The distant howls of barghests filled his ears instead of the moans of the thralls, the smell of rotting wood had been replaced with willow flowers, and a wisp of blisterbark smoke teased his nose.
She released me.
He settled his hand upon his axe.I am free from her.
The thundering of his hearts built. He did not want to believe Calavia would truly let him go, he did not like how it made him feel. It was what he had wanted, but now he wasn’t certain. He dragged his hoof forward and took another step, nothing stopped him.
Shedidn’t stop him.
Astegur snarled. He turned back to confront her anew, to finish what they had started when the sound of splashes and thewhooshof reeds sliced the air. He stopped in his tracks and listened, and as he did so, the noises vanished.
He pulled his battleaxe slowly from his belt.
The sounds came back just as gradually—the splash of steps through water and mud, the clack of hard objects jangling together, the wisp of long grass brushing against moving limbs. Astegur lowered himself to the ground, keeping his movements quiet and deliberate. Something was out there, something heard his rage, and he had an idea of what it was.
