One.
Two.
I smacked my left shoulder against the edge of the stone wall.
Against my will, a gasp snaked through my pressed lips.Pain burst behind my eyes and lit up like the sun itself.
Then … the bulk of the pain receded, settling into a dull throb.I sighed in immense relief, tucked my left arm against my waist not to pull on the healing shoulder, and snatched up my things with the other.
Circling in place, I searched for somewhere to hide.The fog would conceal me from sight, but not from the other advanced senses of sänglures practiced in battle.Yet without a power like mine—and mine was extremely rare—I should be safe here, as far from the fortress as I could get on this strange island.
In a few hours, once my shoulder healed … I’d go hunting.
Chapter27
See You in the Igneuslands
Alobaz was outside alone on one of Mauldrene’s many balconies when he heard it: a faint, faraway gasp, so soft as to barely be there, like a fluttering breeze already passing him by.
If the gasp hadn’t been laced with pain, he probably would have dismissed it as just another oddity in this extremely odd place that had no chance of feeling like home.Ears perked, he listened for more.But no more came.Just the wind whistling along the island, the constant creaking moans of the castle, the crackling of the omnipresent mist that ensured none of Mauldrene’s balconies had an actual view.
If it weren’t for the fact that he’d stepped outside to escape Lev’s whining, Alobaz probably would have shrugged off the gasp.After all, Mauldrene’s staff roamed this island, and any one of them might have issued the sound.
But Lev rarely stopped complaining until he was otherwise distracted or very intoxicated.And Lev had only just begun smoking the olandule, combining it with olvidian root ale.It would still be a while before his mood lightened and he stopped moaning about how Baz had freed the whores too soon, before they had a proper chance to enjoy their company—even though a handful had remained behind, those interested in receiving payment along with their freedom, and who enjoyed the pleasure they derived from the feedings.
What would they do now?Lev insisted, even as he was casting his eye on a voluptuous feeder plenty eager to please him.But Lev could have experienced so much more pleasure.Lev wasso bored.
Besides, Alobaz wanted to have a chat with Drion.Why had he allowed Crute to ride him?What did it mean?Alobaz wanted to believe his interest was simple curiosity, but he was probably also jealous.Drion was magnificent—a true, loyal friend, as much as any shädread was willing to be, anyhow—and Alobaz had never had to share him before.
He crouched on the stone railing, scouting into the distance.Fog and more fog, what a surprise.He jumped down, landing lightly on the ground a story below.The shortsword sheathed along his belt rattled gently.
The mist that consumed Ombrash Island hadn’t let up a single time in the six months they’d been exiled to it.Tactically, it was a nightmare.There was no point in stationing the normal amount of lookouts for all there was to see was mist.Alobaz had quickly dismissed most of the garrison Junot had sent with them.Bad enough that the Bazrian Seven were being punished for something—what, none of them knew exactly.Better for the rest of the soldiers to take leave, get some rest, share time with their families, before Junot inevitably called on them to fight for him again.
Alobaz kept only a skeleton army on the island, a dozen men and women who preferred to live in the humble staff quarters than the castle.If he had the option, he’d probably do the same.At least in the staff quarters, the shadows didn’t bite until they drew blood.
The mist also distorted the direction of sound, though Alobaz couldn’t discern any good reason for it.The rules of nature seemed mere suggestions on the island.Mauldrene adopted those she liked, ignored those she wished to—and it wasn’t always the same ones in the same ways.Alobaz had felt safer on active battlegrounds.At least there he understood the rules.
They were all on edge.There was no respite from the tension.He didn’t even blame Lev for his protests.Screwing was one of the few times they let go, and even then not entirely.Meanwhile, Alobaz had sent away willing ladies, and Félix had offed their handlers.
As he ambled away from the castle, Alobaz rubbed both hands along his face.No one was there to bear witness to his frustration—despair, really.Their being stationed on the island had to be Junot’s punishment for him specifically.But how could he fix the problem when he didn’t know what it was—and when he wasn’t sure he even wanted to find out?He’d been over blindly obeying his father’s commands centuries ago.
Junot was a warmongering megalomaniac prick with too much ambition for anyone’s good.
He was also the man who’d plucked Alobaz from a mundane life and rebirthed him into a sänglure.According to sänglure tradition, that meant Alobaz was indebted to Junot for the rest of their unnatural lives.
Castle Hawxfure didn’t offer a strategic advantage for the war his father insisted Baz wage practically continuously.The only reason they weren’t fighting now was that he’d quashed every uprising, and there were only two continents on the entire Opalese left to conquer.
The emperor still hadn’t discovered a way to defeat the sea monsters that so viciously guarded them.That was Baz’s job, among so many others the emperor had heaped on his weary shoulders, one which Baz had little motivation to perform.
Century after century of bloody conquest to satisfy a single man’s insatiable ambition had left Baz feeling like a prisoner of his circumstances, as much as any other of his father’s subjects might feel, he imagined.
More than for any of them, short of death there was no escape for Baz.He was the emperor’s favorite weapon to wield, a mace he could swing in whichever direction he desired, decimating everything in its trajectory.
So why had Junot stuck him in this deplorable castle?Ombrash Island floated so close to the edge of the world that, with a long-range spyglass, Baz could just make out the mist rising off the Etherly Falls, and beyond it, the darkness with no discernible end.
When he was supposed to be asleep but couldn’t shut off his thoughts, Baz would mount Drion and fly high enough above Mauldrene to escape the fog that shrouded her.He’d study the darkness that marked the end of everything known and fantasize about leaping from Drion’s back into it.His shädread would fly back to safety, and Baz would simply be … gone.
Without his war master general, Junot would fumble.At the very least it would take time—years, probably—before he found a suitable replacement for Baz.
