“We told you that the theme of this week was stories.” Otto cocked his head. “It seems that you have been told some veryinventivestories for your entire life. How does that make you feel?”
She nearly snarled at him, but didn’t answer.
He continued, undeterred. “Though that pales in comparison to the greatest storytellers our world has ever known. Can you guess who they are?”
Again, she kept her silence.
“The Erabis family.” Otto spat the name, and beside him, Nostrata hissed. Mireille almost fell out of her seat. She’d forgotten the ancient female was present. “Centuries ago, they began weaving their tales. Tales that called for the separation of the species. Tales that questioned Adelphinae’s teachings. Tales that raised up their own false High Gods in place of the true Creator and split Ethyrios into its current hierarchies, with Beastrunners and Deathstalkers beneath Windriders, humans discarded in the colonies.”
“For what purpose?” Mireille asked, more to keep him talking than anything else.
“Power. Influence. Wealth. What other purposes are there? They must have foreseen the consequences of discouraging interspecies breeding, must have known that to do so would weaken the other elemental magics beyond their own wind. Give them a reason to hold their dominion over the rest of us.”
Mireille’s mind swirled, trying to keep up. “That makes no sense. How have they kept their wind magic as the other elemental powers have faded?”
Otto dipped his head. “Adelphinae has not yet provided us with a clear answer to that question, though we have asked repeatedly.”
“What about the sources of the High Gods’ magic throughout the continent? The ones that power the god-touched stones? How can those exist if the High Gods aren’t real?”
“Allmagic on Ethyrios is a gift from the Creator, despite what you’ve been told,” Otto snarled.
“You worship the Fallen Goddess?” Mireille swept her gaze around the room, over Nostrata’s cane. “Your house seems more like a shrine to Stygios.”
“Well, one must maintain appearances throughout these days of Imperial conquest, no?” Otto smirked. “As we bide our time and prepare to make our stand.”
“Make a stand?” she scoffed. “How is restoring elemental powers to a group of less than forty Fae going to help you defeat theEmpire?”
“Who said anything about restoring their power?” Otto popped his fangs and leaned back in his chair, intertwining his fingers across his stomach. Again, Mireille reeled. Why was he confessing all this to her? “We intend to take it for ourselves. And restore yours, if you’ll join us.”
Mireille massaged her temples, trying to chase away the headache forming behind her eyeballs. “Join you how?”
“Tomorrow, you will have the opportunity to gain more power than most Fae on Ethyrios could only dream of possessing. Afterward, we’re going to raise a weapon that has been slumbering for centuries. One left in this world by Adelphinae herself.”
“Whatweapon?”
Otto regarded her from beneath lowered brows. “You will see. With these gifts from the Creator, there will be no limit to what we could accomplish together. We could raise armies, abolish the Empire, remake the world aswesee fit. Wouldn’t you like to know what that feels like?”
Mireille sat back in her chair. What Otto was offering—even if she believed for one second that he’d revealed the full truth of his plans—was not any kind of future she would have imagined for herself. Nor was it one she wanted. She wasn’t aleader. She could barely stand interacting with people. Not to mention, she suspected that her and Otto’s visions for what the world should be were dramatically different.
Still, she thought it best to play along right now. She inclined her head. “A verytemptingoffer. What will you require of me?”
“Our final performance will take place tomorrow at noon. This one will be a story to honor Faurana the Mother, High Goddess of Land and Life. Well, not tohonor. Surely you can see that the past two performances have been more of an upending of the High Gods’ worship. Sacrificing the diva. Journeying to the Halfway. All intended to reveal the Empire’s lies and prove our faith to the Creator.”
Was everything that Mireille had thought she’d known of the world a lie? Or was the liar seated before her?
Magicexisted. That much she was sure of. Whether it had been gifted by the High Gods or the Fallen Goddess, she had no idea. Perhaps it was gifted by neither, just a quirk of nature bloomed into existence by Ethyrios itself. Still, she couldn’t deny the reason in what Otto was saying. If the High Godsweren’treal, who was benefiting the most from those myths? The Empire.
Her head swam, and for a moment she wondered if Otto was telling her all this to confuse her. Throw her off balance and get her to blindly agree to his request. “What kind of performance?”
Otto’s eyes shined with manic glee as he placed his palms on the desk, Mireille’s gaze darting again to those half-moons of dirt crusted in his nail beds. “We are surprised you have not guessed it already. It is another reason we were so eager to have you join us this weekend.
“You will be performing the final solo fromThe Curse of Faurana.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
She’s been gone too long, Ronin’s wolf whined.
I’m sure she’s fine, he consoled the creature.In case you hadn’t noticed, she can handle herself.
