My gaze sharpened on Sirro. It was so fucking close to the truth, I wondered where he got his intel from.
Aldert tried to keep his composure and somewhat failed. I loved seeing him shaken up; the nerves showing after having his position within the Houses rocked. I heard the dry rasp as he rubbed his chapped lips together, and his gaze had turned inward as he searched for a reason behind Sirro’s extreme reaction and a way out of this.
Sirro snapped his fingers at his Familiar and she pushed herself off the floor as he softly murmured an apology, stroking the crown of her head, much like a household cat. His focus fixed on my younger brother. “Jett, explain yourself. What happened to my tithes?”
My father muttered my name under his breath, and I knew what he was asking me to do. I rose, retrieving the roll ofcrimson bunched in Jett’s trembling hands, and placed it on the coffee table before Sirro.
I could feel how wrong the bolt was, even sitting a good distance away.
Sirro unrolled the fabric, his dark might coiled around his hand like wisps of shadow as he hovered widespread fingers over the crossbow bolt. Those threads of power reached for the weapon, then blew away, scattering in recoil.
Sirro withdrew his hand slightly.
There was only one possible answer to this. The bolt had to have been carved from Gestelt wood—a tree that had the properties that could bring down a Horned God.
The Gestelt Tree wasn’t quite a tree in the truest sense. In the dawn age of the gods, a wandering spirit had fallen from the skies, shattering upon impact, and its tiny remains were buried deep within the earth. An age later, our goddess Skalki, mourning the loss of her mortal lover, had succumbed to grief and despair after her brother Hazus refused to give back his soul. She’d collapsed in heartache and wept for centuries. Her ceaseless tears formed streams and rivers, but they’d also soaked into the ground, seeping deeper into the very bowels of the earth. It was her tears that had given life to a dormant shard. It sprouted, churning upward, its ochre shoot pushing aside dirt as it unfurled from the soil seeking sunlight.
Skalki had birthed the Gestelt Tree.
Aldert leaned forward with eagerness. “Children of the Harbinger,” he muttered under his breath. Though Sirro glanced at the other man, his gaze was distant.
The Children of the Harbinger had nearly exterminated the Horned Gods and the Houses in the Final War with weapons crafted from the Gestelt Tree.
We’d barely survived the bloodbath, saved only by Draxxon and Hamon’s sacrifice and the Horned Gods rallying the lastscraps of their power against our enemy. Within their mortal army, some of our own had turned against us—Horned Gods who’d betrayed their kin, joining the legion ofotherswho’d marched beneath the Harbinger’s banner.
Over the following centuries, the Houses hunted down and wiped out every single member of the sect that had been hells-bent on destroying us. And many of those traitorous Horned Gods remain incarcerated within the Godsbane Prison. Our ancestors had also purged the earth of the Gestelt Tree. Yet seemingly here was a bolt carved from that very wood. I couldn’t say for certain, but I was pretty fucking sure of it.
Sirro carefully rolled the deadly weapon up in velvet. I was waiting for him to confirm it, but he merely leaned back in his chair, deep in thought.
Aldert rose from his seat, reaching for the bolt. “I’ll take it to our laboratory and have it analyzed.”
Sirro slapped his palm over the rolled velvet. “No need for that, Aldert.”
Aldert jerked back with an unnerved glance.
Sirro remained pensive.
We all waited for him to elaborate, but he denied us his thoughts.
Instead, he shared a pointed look with Byron, and in turn, Byron set an icy-cold glare upon Aldert. “You’re dismissed.”
I almost crowed with laughter at the stunned-mullet expression on Aldert’s face.
“Shall I wait with the other Heads?” His gaze bounced anxiously between Sirro and Byron. “I had no idea there was a meeting taking place today.”
Byron’s tone sharpened with barely leashed ire. “You’re not needed. This meeting doesn’t concern your House.”
Sirro flicked his hand toward the door, utterly indifferent. “Why don’t you return to your laboratories and do what you do best, ordering others to do your alchemy.”
I bit back the barking laugh fighting its way up my throat. Holy hellsgate, Sirro was kicking the bastard when he was down, practically cracking his ribcage right open. What the hells had Aldert done to offend the Horned God?
“Gerrit,” Aldert hissed.
His son clumsily pushed from his seat, hurrying to stand beside his father. Both Pellans bowed and left the solar, with Aldert casting one last bewildered glance over his shoulder at being treated with such contempt.
Bryon rose and spoke to Sirro. “I’ll begin the meeting.” And then angled his chin toward the door. “Varen.”
My father unfolded his formidable figure, bowed deeply to Sirro, and followed Byron out of the room, shooting a furtive glance at Jett, concern flashing in his eyes.
