“I thought Azaroth decided what his will was. Not you.”
He just gives me a patient smile, as if he is looking at a child who will never understand the true depths of his theological intricacies.
“We’re here because Bane and Jessina Iceheart sent us in here to get you,” Isera says in her no-nonsense tone.
At that, Severin’s gaze sharpens for a second before he smoothens his features into a pleasant smile again. “Bane and Jessina Iceheart? They are still alive?”
“You knew them?”
“Me personally, no. But our ancestors knew them, of course.”
“Of course?” Isera echoes. “Whyof course?”
“They are the reason we are in here. Or rather, our own actions are the reason we are in here. But those actions directly involved Bane and Jessina.”
“In what way?”
He looks distinctly uncomfortable. His hands are still claspedin front of him, but he tightens his fingers before relaxing them again. And he says nothing.
“It doesn’t matter how or why,” Orion growls. “All that matters is that you’re going to leave this pocket reality and help us fight against them.”
A baffled laugh escapes his chest. “Fight? Oh, no. The Gold Clan does not fight.”
Orion, at last losing the final shred of his patience, lunges towards Severin and grabs him by the throat the same way he did with Morvin. And just like our previous captive, Severin doesn’t even try to defend himself. He just lets Orion lock a hand around his throat.
Lethal fury drips from the Unseelie King’s voice as he tightens his grip around Severins neck and declares, “You are going to help us win this war, or you are going to die. Right here.”
Severin just looks back at Orion with calm eyes. Behind him, the pond remains still, the water reflecting the burning flames and the gold inlays in the ceiling like a smooth mirror. Those small golden bowls float there in the calm water, as if nothing is wrong.
At last, Orion loosens his grip on Severin’s throat. The clan leader coughs once. Then smiles up at Orion.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Orion growls in his face, but there is a distinct edge of panic and stress in his voice. “I just told you that you will die.”
“If I die, it is Azaroth’s will,” Severin replies in that annoyingly calm voice.
For a moment, it looks like Orion might actually strangle him to death just out of frustration. But then he releases the guy’s throat with a snarl and steps back again. Severin straightens his robes and runs a hand over his braided hair before fixing the tassel as well.
“If you know the Icehearts, you know how dangerous they are,” I say. “But you still won’t help us fight?”
“No. Like I said, the Gold Clan does not fight.”
“Why not?”
“Because we have no dragon fire.”
That stuns me enough that I actually draw back. No dragon fire? Draven has made it sound like their dragon fire is a core part of their beings. Their souls. So how can they not have any?
As if reading the questions in my eyes, Severin explains, “Both the Silver Clan and the Gold Clan are blessed by Azaroth in a way that the ordinary clans are not. That is why we alone have scales like precious metals. The Silver Clan was given their ice flames, and we were given something better. Something more holy than dragon fire.”
“Which is?” Isera prompts impatiently.
“The ability to bestow clan magic on someone.”
I jerk back and stare at him. “What?”
“Azaroth trusted us to help him carry each clan’s magic to a new person, if something went wrong and no one inherited the magic after the previous leader died. In addition to our own clan magic, which is to create shields and wards in order to protect this most sacred duty of ours, the leader of the Gold Clan has always been able to give a member of another clan the gift of their own clan magic.”
Stunned silence falls over the temple. For a few seconds, only the faint crackling of fire disturbs the stillness. Then understanding crashes over Isera’s face.
