***
The chiming of a gilded clock shattered the silence as the male slipped through the halls of Thalvireth Palace. Branches from long-dead trees climbed the walls in a grotesque mimicry of the living, breathing cloud forest beyond the outer gates.
Each footstep against the chilled stone floors sent a spike of pain up the male’s bare feet. Yet he welcomed the sensation, using it to ground himself against what waited for him in the receiving room just ahead.
White-haired sentries in gleaming silver armor watched his approach with stoic impassivity. Yet the ones closest to the door were tense, their shoulders set in firm squares. Voices drifted through cracks in the carved wood.
The male didn’t so much as acknowledge his sister’s guards as he swept between them. They made no move to bar his entry either. They knew exactly why he’d been called to the Korona’s chambers.
He dragged in a calming breath, bracing for the confrontation. Scarred hands smoothed back his iron-gray hair. His sister hadn’t given him time to collect himself upon being roused.Shirtless, with sleeping trousers hung low on his hips, and tousled locks, he was the vision of being dragged from bed and forced into obedience.
He was accustomed to it.
A masculine voice cut the quiet next—the Koron. The male’s hand paused a breath from knocking against the door. That his sister’s husband was also within was a bleak omen.
Forcing his wrist forward, he announced his presence.
Words died on their tongues.
A heartbeat later, air rushed out from within, and the Koron filled the open entry with his large body.
“Took you long enough, Vaeron,” he groused, barely stepping back enough to allow the male inside.
“My apologies,” he muttered, his shoulder bumping into his Koron. Anyone else would suffer a quick death for such insolence.
But the Koron couldn’t kill him. Not with what he could do—what his sister could also do.
Vaeron found her in a state of undress, nightgown slipping off one shoulder. Knowing her, she’d been trying to seduce her husband, even after the summons. It was the only thing she knew how to do to survive his exacting standards. Her brother cleared his throat and pointedly returned his attention to the ruler of the Angels.
The Koron settled into a plush settee and crossed one ankle over a knee. His arms lounged wide, claiming all the space of the creamy cushions. Yet the furious frown contrasted the ease of his posture.
“What’s happened?” Vaeron ventured, ambling toward a thick carpet. The soft strands dug between his toes, offering his soles a modicum of relief from the hard ground.
“The Demons have declared war.”
War.That word struck like a blade to Vaeron’s sternum. TheDemons had been escalating their attacks on Angel territory for centuries. The Zahal had drifted through Sivy not three weeks prior, collecting supplies and recruits for the Angel army.
He’d requested Vaeron join him on the front lines. After all, his power, combined with the Zahal’s, could sunder their enemies. Decimate their numbers in rapid succession. Exterminate their race and their dark magic from the continent in the name of the Goddess.
But his sister had refused.
Is she allowing me to leave?he thought, hope rising on feathered wings in his chest.
They were dashed a moment later when she spoke.
“We need all the Seers, now more than ever.” Each syllable rang crisp and measured, like a blade drawn from a silk sheath.
Vaeron’s eyes dipped closed. He knew what she was about to ask him to do.
“You’re the only one who can hunt them down. We know the Elessarum hides one with eyes in icy hues and another with aquamarine, if not more. Thanks to your last raid, of course.” The sweet smile she offered him was anything but.
That was how she operated—a polished exterior with poison waiting beneath.
Vaeron wanted to refuse to imbibe. Loathing curdled in his gut as he swept his gaze over his sister, then let it glide to her husband.
The Koron weighed his brother-by-law like the heavy diamonds he was so fond of. Even in the middle of the night, a string of them decorated his neck and bare chest. He hadn’t risen to power by being foolish—no, he’d claimed the Angel’s throne through his cunning and blood. Memories of that time, centuries before, drifted into his mind.
Even then, the Koron had been a creature of strategy. He’d won favor with thousands through his devotion to theGoddess and Her holy order. With promises of eradication of their competition on Keleti—the red-eyed Demons. Since the continents smashed apart, the beasts had relegated themselves to the opposite side of the Skala Mountains, where the land was dry in stark contrast to the lushness of the Angel Realm.
