“Tell you what, grumpy pants. Let’s go down to the pub, have a couple drinks, and talk things out.”
“What if she needs me?”
“Old man, there’s nothing you can do for her other than what you’ve already done,” Talon said softly. Since leaving the dungeon, Emmeric had felt the pain in his fingers diminishing, so at least Iyana had used the draught. Talon was right; there wasn’t anything else he could do at the moment. At least, nothing that wouldn’t land him in a cell right next to her.
“Okay,” he said, resigned.
So, half an hour later, after changing out of the horrid Holygazer green uniform, he found himself sitting at a table with Talon atThe Dancing Cat. This tavern wastheir favorite. It was small, and all the bar maidens remembered their orders without having to ask. They brewed their own mead in-house and it tasted strongly of honey and cinnamon. The alcohol would sneak up on them, though, and getting drunk quickly was simple.
Despite going to talk things out, they sat in silence, neither knowing what to say. Rowdy patrons surrounded them, trying to goad Tal into a poker game, which he politely declined. Nobody approached Emmeric, quite possibly due to the scowl that had yet to leave his face. Instead of joining in the revelry like he usually would, he focused on getting well and truly drunk to dull his thoughts and the bond in his chest. Usually, Emmeric would have a beautiful woman on his lap, watching Talon beat everyone at cards, but his heart wasn’t in it. He didn’t know how long they wallowed in the quiet, but he’d had at least three pints of mead, andmaybesome of Talon’s, when the chair next to him slid out and someone sat down.
“Table’s taken, mate,” Emmeric slurred.
A hand clapped on his shoulder, warmth pulsing through him, and he was very suddenly sober. All the things he was trying to suppress flooded back into his body, the most prominent being pure anger. Turning to the stranger next to him, he was ready to fight. Ready to throw some punches, to get hit, to siphon off some of this rage. Only to find Altair at the table. His eyes were now a golden-brown instead of the bright gold they’d been before, and he seemed more muted, but it was unmistakably him.
Emmeric yanked his shoulder out from under Altair’s hand. “About time you showed up, you bastard.”
Altair looked between him and Talon, nonplussed at Emmeric’s anger. Nor did he explain where he had been the past few days, when he should have been rescuing Iyana.
No. Instead, all he said was, “I need your help.”
Chapter 22
Zane
Screams echoed down the hallway, making Zane nauseous, suddenly glad he’d skipped breakfast. Although he knew of the things his father ordered done underneath the castle, and how that vile man Azazel carried them out, he’d never gotten used to the screams.
Technically, he was not ‘allowed’ in the dungeons, but there was an unused servants’ passage he crept through to bypass the guards at the door. Uther didn’t want him there but never gave a clear reason as towhy, and Zane was wise enough to not push for more information. He’d come down a few times over the years to stay acquainted with his father’s current moods, methods, and plans. Some people in the dungeons deserved to be there—murderers, rapists, traitors to the crown—but quite a few, like Iyana, were only there either for information or to boost the emperor’s ego.
Five days had passed since Iyana’s arrival in Athusia. As his father became angrier and more unpredictable than normal, Zane knew they weren’t getting any information from her. He was honestly surprised. Who had known the petite slip of a woman would be able to withstand this much torture? Zane was well aware of the disgusting betting pool; some men were whining about losing because ‘the bitch wouldn’t talk or die.’ Apparently, Uther had been the winner, the only one seeing her silent strength and betting accordingly. But even that accomplishment didn’t dim his ire. Servants grumbled that his father was smashing priceless vases and china, and generally making a mess they were then responsible for cleaning.
Guilt wiggled its way into Zane’s conscience. Instead ofdoinganything, he’d been content to stick to the status quo, letting innocents take the beating instead of him. He was a dog beaten into submission, flinching at any and all movements, tucking his tail to show obedience and subservience. These five days, he’d stayed holed up in his quarters, only leaving to go to the library. Uther was obviously interested in this Aztia, which was apparently Iyana, and Zane needed to understand why. It could either keep him safe, or something to be tucked away for later use.Or,a small voice whispered,maybe she can help finally free Athusa of your father.Something akin to hope bloomed within Zane, but it had been so long since he’d felt anything close to hope the notion terrified him. He shoved it and the traitorous thoughts away.
The only reason he’d come down here in the first place was to ask Iyana questions. Hopefully Azazel wasn’t beating her into unconsciousness because he needed answers. Inwardly, he winced at the callousness of his reasoning.
It had taken three days before he found any books with information on the Aztia. He’d searched first inHistory of Arinem,healers and Their Magic,History of Magic, and evenTwo Magic Users Unite—which had turned out to be a rather steamy romance. Zane was ashamed to admit he’d read the entire book. Despite scouring any and all history or magic books, he found absolutely nothing of substance. It was all mostly about the dilution of magic from generation to generation. Zane found it fascinating to read about what humans were capable of millennia ago. The healers of old were able to draw directly from Imera, pulling people back from the brink of death. There were accounts of some who had been dead for several minutes, able to be hauled back before crossing into the Everlands. It was truly impressive, and a shock to compare to modern healers who could barely use magic at all.
His tutors had told him the three domains of Arinem had been blessed by a different deity. Athusa by Otho, Istora by his twin Thelena, and Nyr by Yrza. What they hadn’t told him was that the gods had given their rulers magic. The first Holygazer emperor, Zane’s twenty-times great-grandfather, he presumed, was gifted earth elemental magic. Perhaps that was why his family had such an obsession with the color green. And why Uther had always hated that Zane had inherited his mother’s green eyes, instead of his father’s cold blue ones. Maybe it was jealously—a throwback to when their family had been capable of literally moving mountains. The magic of his ancestors built Athusia’s castle, carving it into the hillside. Zanewondered what it would feel like to have that amount of power running through his veins. He wouldn’t be cowering away from his father; that was a given.
The Istorian Queen, family Bonfara at the time, had air magic. Legends said the queens had the ability to conjure large, swirling storms to deter their enemies, while keeping their people safe within a central eye. The Bonfaras were no longer in power; it was now the Vinta family. Istora was a matriarchal society, and if no daughters were born to their queen, the crown passed to a sister, cousin, or niece. Zane questioned how different Athusa would be if his mother sat on the throne instead of his father. Selena was much more fit for ruling—she had been such a benevolent woman. His heart squeezed in his chest, the way it did every time he daydreamed about his father dying instead. He and his mother would have cleaned up the outer ring. Wealth would have been distributed more evenly, so children wouldn’t have to worry about where their next meal was coming from. The castle doors would have been open to any seeking aid or shelter. But it was best not to dwell on these thoughts, as history could not be changed, no matter how hard he wished or prayed.
The Nyr king and queen were both gifted with shadow magic, as they ruled equally. Nyr was notoriously withdrawn and voluntarily isolated from the rest of the continent, so not much was known about their royalty, lineages, or magic. Shadow magic was feared—assassins were easily hidden in the dark—meaning Athusa and Istora were just fine with Nyr staying sequestered. There was an unspoken truce over the years, as Athusa and Istora began turning on each other, Nyr was not to be involved. Even when magic diluted to almost nothing, most humans now without a single spark, Nyr was left to their own devices.
Zane found all this interesting, but none of it was relevant to the Aztia. It wasn’t until he wandered into the back of the library, where the oldest literature was stored, that he found what he was searching for. This section was so old it consisted only of scrolls, no bound books to be found. It was in disrepair; the librarians ignored it in favor of more modern areas, where the nobles were more likely to be found. A thick layer of dust lay upon everything, and the smell of old parchment was heavy in the air. Zane breathed it in, loving the smell. Despite the dust, he could live here in this portion of the library.
A shelf on the back wall caught his attention. It was made of stone, as though it had been carved from the wall itself. On the shelf sat one scroll. There were no adornments, nothing special about this shelf or this scroll in particular other than it being separated from the rest. Hundreds of years ago, an academic might have set the document on the stone outcropping simply out of convenience and forgotten it. But Zane knew in his gut he’d found the information he was searching for.
Lifting the scroll gingerly, a large plume of dust blew into his face. A coughing fit seized his lungs, but once he had recovered, he gently brushed the rolled paper. Unfurling it caused Zane a fair amount of anxiety as the parchment had become brittle over the years, and he would hate for the whole thing to crumble in his hands, leaving him without any answers. There was no title, no author, nothing to signify the importance of this document, but it didn’t take long for his vision to snag on the one word he wanted to find.
The Aztia and Kanaliza were hand-picked by the goddess Zaya, who was awoken from her deep slumber by the strife she had detected in the gods’ most favorite of creations—the humans. The Aztia was a woman already endowed with powerful magic, and the Kanaliza a human man with no magic. Zaya gave them the ability to rescue humanity from their plight. The Aztia and Kanaliza ended the conflict in Arinem, and retired peacefully, never to be heard from again. We owe them our lives. Their names shall go down in history forevermore.
In every generation, a new Aztia and Kanaliza are born to maintain order between humans and——
born anywhere in the world
powerful
Beware———Aztia has the ability to
