He steps past me, approaching a rack of swords on our left. Various hilts gleam gold, their grips wrapped in black leather, showing little evidence of ever having shed blood. With a flick of his nail against the flat of a blade, a ringing chord fills the room for a moment. The haunting note hangs in the air longer than it should before fading.
“One of Netharis’ security measures,” Cenviri replies, collecting a second dagger identical to the first. “He wanted a store of bloodstone here should the Layer Lords ever make good on their whispered uprising.”
I scoff, trailing my fingers along the jeweled pommels of the dual-bladed axes on my right as I move to join Ryc. Rubies, amethyst, citrine, onyx… the colors of blood, bruises, and death.
“The Layer Lords’ threat of overthrowing Netharis is nothing new,” I say, shaking my head.
“You’re right,” Cenviri says with a nod. “And Netharis grew tired of the rumors and instigated the Layer Lords to move against him—with Vaelyn’s help, of course.”
“What?” I ask. “Vaelyn would have—”
I stop myself short.
It would better serve me to shift my perception of Vaelyn simply being involved in a game of manipulation to that of him being the conductor. Netharis claimed power and did what he thought necessary to retain it. Vaelyn overturned everything in pursuit of the same.
Neither is acceptable.
And yet one lives while the other has found the void.
Vaelyn, for all his faults, never hid who he truly was. I simply refused to see it. Not anymore.
“Vaelyn convinced Kassil that he, the heir of the hells, could open the vaults of bloodstone,” Cenviri continues and I clamp my mouth shut to listen. “Together, they proceeded to develop a plan. The Lord of Wrath was to take the hells. It emboldened Kassil and he began to make demands, believing himself to have the upper hand against Netharis.”
The motivation for Netharis’ sudden agreement to the marriage contract aftercenturiesof not giving an answer becomes clearer than I’d like. I was used asbaited hope. Naturally, Kassil would want to become the god of death—it’s all he ever talked about when we were alone.
Iwas supposed to help get him there.
I never had interest in that.
The convergence of half a dozen half truths wrapped in countless lies begins to paint a rather surreal and vivid picture. Netharis giving me three days to sign the marriage contract was by design—nota kindness. Netharis knew Kassil would back me into a corner and I would retaliate.
He expected me to kill Kassil.
Had Netharis done it, it would have turned Kassil into a martyr among the Layer Lords. And after my Tower quaking display days earlier… Netharis held confidence I could kill the archdemon.
A bitter scoff escapes me as a tiny smile curls my lips.
I escaped instead.
Ruined their little plan.
“Druka tells me when you escaped the hells, Netharis began to fall apart,” Cenviri says. “She was almost convinced he cared for his daughter.”
“Impossible,” I counter in a near whisper. “Netharis only cares for himself.”
“Correct. And Vaelyn follows closely in his footsteps,” Cenviri adds.
His wicked smile returns and he snags a black leather sheath from the bottom of the rack. Tucking the blade into it, he fastens it to his robe belt. As he repeats the process for the second, he says, “Where Netharis was paranoid concerning his Generals, Vaelyn is paranoid concerning the elder gods.”
“The primordials?” Ryc asks, his dark brows creasing.
Cenviri nods. “In fact, in the contract he offered, he sought to have me hunt and end these slumbering gods. Needless to say, I declined.”
My mind becomes a whirlwind of thoughts and I take a step backward. Ryc’s hand finds the small of my back, offering steadying support.
“I will not be wielded as a weapon against dormant entities who may not even realize who they are,” Cenviri says with a small, victorious smile. “If the gods wish to find them, they’re welcome to hunt on their own.”
Moss green eyes swing from mine to the doorway and I turn. Zirzol greets us with a dip of his chin and a fist over his heart.
