Once we were out of the foothills, I’d send Ilae off to find them. Civilization was within reach again, and I couldn’t fucking wait.
Hot baths, ale, roofs over our heads while we slept. Though we would be sharing a room, without question. The Elessarum were slippery fuckers, and on more than one occasion, our captives had slipped away, aided by members or sympathizers, in the middle of the night.
My crew had caught them quickly again every time. And with it, we flushed out more traitors. Word of their failures never reached the ears of those remaining. We made sure of that.
Plus, the bounty for Seers was nearing five thousand golden wings. I wouldn’t put it past a desperate group to try to take her from me, only to hand her back over with a demand for coin.
But what was I going to do with Sylaira once we reached thecapital? Hand her over to my sister, who would add her to her menagerie and never see my little fugitive again?
It was clear she loathed me. And she was proving to be as much trouble as she was worth. To my sister, this Seer was priceless. If I gave my life trying to return her to Sivy, Iaoth would clap her hands with glee, not a thought spared for me.
Bitterness coated my tongue.
Turns out, I might hate my sister.
If I was being really, really fucking honest with myself, I was tired of this position. Tired of hunting down Elessarum and Seers alike. Tired of being treated like a random servant instead of her fucking brother.
Memories of Iaoth and I as younglings flashed into my mind, before our mother died. When we still laughed and played in the fields surrounding our manor by the massive lake to the north. She’d been so carefree then, all wide smiles and bubbling laughter. Not the cold, brittle female warped by a political marriage.
When Demons had surged over the Skala Mountains, seeking crops and territory to claim, our mother had been slain. My father’s loathing of them had increased tenfold. It wasn’t long after that that he’d begun to mold me into the heir to our house, in his hateful image.
Now, even as the head of House Räviel, I wasn’t treated as the titleholder of Herr should be. My svaethei, the landholdings surrounding our estate, had gone unsupervised for years. The last time I visited had to have been before the Demons declared war on us a decade ago.
I wished Maelsar were here. At least then I wouldn’t go mad in my own head. I could at least have him smack some sense into me.
What was so special about this female? Why had I broken away from my mission and let this hunt continue?
The question had haunted me every time I’d stared into the forest, seeking her. Every night when she appeared in my dreams, her face a blur, since I’d never caught a long enough glimpse to study it in the way a beauty like her deserved. Every time she spoke as we traversed the rough terrain, sucking me into the eye of her hurricane.
Something inside me justknew. It was as good as any explanation I could conjure. And it wasn’t good enough for Iaoth, of that I was certain. Not like Sylaira had any interest in me anyway.
That same resentment returned. But could I blame her?
I wanted her. For reasons I very much couldnotarticulate.
Emotion was weakness. I couldn’t feel—shouldn’t feel. And yet, here I was, unmoored by her continued silence.
I shoved off the ground, numb and stiff limbs protesting, making a quick scan of our surroundings. Then, I settled onto the warm earth, facing her. Peering through the lashes of flame, I drank her in—hair tangled from travel but still as silver as moonlight, lips pink and slightly parted, a heart shaped face that promised more breaking than love.
She was breathtaking.
So much so that when I closed my eyes, I dreamed of her again. Her white feathered wings flapped against a bright blue sky. Until the light faded into a stormy gray, and she turned on me, a thunderous expression on her face.
And then, she drowned me in her tempest, like she’d been waiting to drag me under all along.
13
Adeluge roared above us, a sky-wide scream I wished I could voice. Earth churned beneath my feet, soft and unsteady. My clothes soaked through, clinging to my skin. Everything was too much, too tight, too loud when all I had been was quiet.
The Skala Mountains tore the clouds open year-round, forcing heavy storms at their base. This was no exception.
But having just emerged from the foothills, we had no shelter. The massive canopy overhead did little to impede the forceful drops. I couldn’t even conjure my light magic to shield me with my wrists trapped in bronze.
At least I’m clean again?
A pathetic consolation for my battered soul.
The Issaraeth extended his power over my head, but it was far too late to save me from anything other than further drenching. “Come closer,” he ordered like I was one of his soldiers.
