———save humanity.
Many areas of the scroll were either illegible or degraded, with more than a few holes dotted throughout the document. Below the brief explanation was a long record of the known Aztias and Kanalizas, but the list ended approximately three hundred years before. The closer Zane got to modern times, the shorter thelifespans. There was no written explanation for this phenomenon, and he pondered the cause. Was the dilution of magic affecting them as well? Or was there a more sinister reasoning? And why were there no names in the past three centuries? Zane was completely unable to read the older names, including what he assumed was the original couple. Ironic that the author of this scroll believed their names would be forever remembered, and yet most didn’t realize an Aztia and Kanaliza even existed. He wished he could find their names, if only to honor them for saving humanity, although it was unclear what the conflict originally was, and how it had been ended.
Plus, the breaks in information left Zane feeling wary.Bewarewas especially concerning, followed by some unknown power the Aztia had the ability to do. Was it to save humanity, as the break suggested? Or a warning? He deeply wanted to ask a tutor or librarian if they had any more information, or knew where to locate some, but he couldn’t risk the knowledge getting back to his father. He pocketed the scroll inside his cloak; it wouldn’t be missed.
So Zane found himself in the dungeons a day later. After reading through the scroll another three or four times, he wanted to see if Iyana could shed any light on the situation. Her screaming had finally subdued, and he guessed Azazel would soon be done. For both of their sakes, he prayed to Imera she wasn’t in too rough of shape.
A door slammed down the hallway, and two sets of footsteps headed in Zane’s direction. He faded backwards into the shadow of an alcove he had chosen just for this purpose. The sniveling, raspy voice of Azazel reached his ears first, then his father’s baritone.
“I’m running out of patience, Azazel,” he said. “I need her to give me information on the star.”
“I think she’s close to breaking, sire. We almost had her talking about her Kanaliza today.”
“I don’t give afuckabout her Kanaliza,” Uther snarled. “They’re useless without her. Either give me what I want within the next two days or kill her.” Unfortunately, the emperor’s ultimatum didn’t shock Zane, but it meant he was on the clock to either obtain what he needed from Iyana and write her off or try something foolish.
Their voices drew nearer. “I may need more time, Your Majesty,” Azazel said.
“If she doesn’t give you anything by dawn the day after the autumnal equinox, I order you to dispose of her, you cretin. If you defy me further, you can join her.”
“No, Your Majesty. I’ll do as you ask.”
“We need to complete the ritual soon, Azazel. I’m not getting any younger, and I worry about Zane.” Zane started. Why would Uther be worried about him?
“Sire?” Azazel asked as they walked in front of Zane’s hiding spot.
“He’s becoming more disrespectful and spending most of his time away from Athusia. I’m worried he’s planning something. Always knew I should have killed him along with his slut of a mother.”
Zane’s ears were ringing. He was vaguely aware of Azazel and Uther continuing their conversation as they walked away. His back hit the wall. Sinking to the ground, he stared into the shadows. He’d been suspicious, over the years, that Uther may have murdered his mother, but to hear it come out of his mouth… Zane didn’t know how to react, didn’t care that Uther all but admitted he wanted his own son dead.
That bastard had taken the only good thing in Zane’s life. Without regard to what it would do to his son, to his empire. Things had fallen into disrepair within days of his mother’s death. Zane’s soul had never repaired, and it was the moment everything had changed for him. There was a distinct line ofbeforeandafter.Beforehe had friends, he laughed, he played. He smiled. His mother always told him his emerald eyes sparkled when he smiled. He’d give her his best toothy grin to make her laugh, and she’d tickle him until they were both lying on the floor giggling, tears streaming down their faces.Afterhis only companions were fear, anxiety, and self-loathing. He had more scars—physically and mentally. He had no friends, his face had forgotten how to smile, except for the one night in Huton with Talon and the others. It was the first time he’d felt like himself since he was eight-years-old, lowering his mother’s body into the earth.Be strong,his father had told him, hand firmly on his shoulder, squeezing to the point of pain.No tears, do not shame me.
Uther had been more…contained before his mother died. He still had bouts of anger, fits of rage, and was ambitious, but he laughed. He danced with his wife, stole kisses from her during dinner. But something had happened. Uther had snapped. Now Zane knew he’d killed Selena, but he didn’t knowwhy.
All thoughts of Iyana and the Aztia emptied from his brain; he only wanted—needed—to be in his own quiet quarters. Scream into a pillow, read his mother’s old letters, have a good cry. Exiting the alcove, he walked in a daze through the dungeons towards the servants’ passage he’d used to get there. At this point, he didn’t care who saw him, or if his father learned he’d defied his orders.
In his haze, he didn’t see the person in front of him until they’d collided. Looking up, he saw Emmeric holding a prisoner’s dinner tray, shock written on his face. A vial clattered to the floor.
Chapter 23
Emmeric
Shit.
Emmeric had been so lost in his thoughts, going over his conversation with Altair—again—that he hadn’t seen Prince Zane heading towards him until they ran into each other. Once Emmeric realized who it was he’d hit, fear suffused him and the vial full of Iyana’s numbing draught fell. Time slowed as he tracked it tumbling to the ground, luckily not breaking, but making the loudest possible noise. Silence followed. Emmeric’s hands began to sweat, and he really wished he wasn’t holding a tray so he could wipe them dry.
His heart hammered furiously as Zane glanced down towards the draught, then picked it up. Emmeric’s confession was on the tip of his tongue; any possible excuse fled his mind the moment he saw the prince. He watched Zane inspect the vial, turning it over in his hands. There was no label, but his green eyes sparked with recognition.
Emmeric was fucked. There was no good reason to have a numbing draught on him while taking food down to a prisoner. If it were for his own personal use, he would have it safely tucked away in his room. Rapid flashes of his future flickered through his mind—a trial, lying in a cell next to Iyana’s, standing at the gallows. There’d be no funeral, not for him and the crimes he’d committed. Talon weeping. Snapping back to the present, Emmeric noticed the odd expression on Zane’s face—a mixture of curiosity, fear, and determination.
Zane placed the vial gently on the tray. Placing a hand on Emmeric’s shoulder, he leaned in close, whispering into Emmeric’s ear, “You didn’t see me.”
Emmeric managed a small nod, and the crown prince went on his way without another word. Emmeric’s breath whooshed out of his lungs, hands trembling. Zane could still potentially get him into a large amount of trouble, or use him for blackmail, or… or he might know exactly what Emmeric was up to and who he was aiding, and he didn’t care. It might be a minor act of defiance against his father, or even something he deemed not worth his time. Emmeric didn’t want to place his trust in the prince. He’d been working for him the past decade and had seen a sulky, seventeen-year-old scrawny boy grow into a brooding, bookish man; granted, one who was good with a sword. But he’d seen Zane’s moods over years becoming more and more sullen, and he’d watched him stand by Uther as he’d committed atrocities. Emmeric knew he was just as culpable, never standing up for anything, never speaking out, but men like him didn’t have a say. The voice they possessed held little weight, and saying the wrong thing threatened to silence them permanently. So nobody said anything. But Zane, as the crown prince, hedidhave a voice. A powerful one. And he chose not to use it. Emmeric couldn’t trust Zane’s motives were altruistic.
For the moment, however, Emmeric was still a free man, and Iyana was still in pain. The previous numbing draught had run dry last night, and so her ‘session’ this morning had been more painful than the past few days. His back hurt, and he was concerned by what he would find. Emmeric needed to put his eyes on her, make sure she was surviving, make sure that after this was over she’d still be whole. Plus, he needed to convey important information. Information she would find vital—that, four nights prior, Altair had breezed intoThe Dancing Cat, rudely magicked the booze out of Emmeric’s blood, and asked for his and Talon’s help. Which was laughable, seeing as he was an all-powerful star, and Emmeric was the human equivalent of a hamster running in a wheel to provide someone else with energy.
“Fuck off,” Emmeric had said.
“Is this…?” Talon had asked, slurring, eyes hooded. Altair hadn’t whisked away his fun. No, only Emmeric’s.
