She turned to Malicine, but their face had paled into a sicklyshade of green. In their eyes she saw pupils so wide they shrank color. Two pits of black for what should have been life.
As if the island sensed their fear, the wind picked up with a howling storm. Waves crashed around them, and Corin felt the strangle on their bodies, pushing both of them to the bottom to drown.
CHAPTER 28
101 YEARS AGO
MALICINE WAS DROWNING in new smells and lavish decor. Slabs of meat filled the trays, cooked to warm brown tones, dripping in golden oils. A large bird had been finely sliced with pink hues glistening on each tender side. Goblets sprouted from the stone and filled themselves with wine, rich in maroon with the sweet smell of cherries. At the center sat a bowl filled with grapes for Talon to peck and chew noisily.
A second ago, the food and wine had been dust particles. The Demon King needed only to hover his hand across the table before conjuring them into shapes on silver plates.
“You say we should talk, but it looks like you just wanted to show off,” Malicine said.
He smiled. “Can’t your father do both?”
Malicine took the first buttery bite of a meat slice and let the flavors burst in their mouth. For the first time, they understood what it meant to savor power. Cherries from the wine goblet swirled intheir mouth next, bitter and sweet at the same time. Still, questions remained hanging on their tongue.
“What happened out there?” Malicine’s gaze flickered to the circular window. A bloodred moon hung over the smoke and ashes that permeated outside the tower’s fortress. They remembered first entering the Otherworld, the way ash rained from the sky and smoke clogged their throat. Despite the safety of the tower, they could not ignore the forces outside.
“A wildfire spread while I had been traveling to the human realm. I could not stop it,” he answered. “The fires swept across the land and killed everyone. This fortress is the only place left for me to protect.”
Malicine recalled the smell of burnt flesh, the array of bent horns and broken wings that were left abandoned in charcoal. How utterly alone they felt knowing they were too late.
“A terrible way to die,” they murmured. “I would have wanted to meet the others.”
Their father made an impassive shrug, but Malicine could tell from the way his shoulders tightened that the incident bothered him more than he let on. “One can get used to being alone, as I’m sure you have.”
“Not by choice.”
It was one thing to view humans and Fae with disdain, but another to know, deep down, that ostracization only happened from being repulsive in the first place. Malicine filled the silence by taking another sip of wine. The Demon King sat back in his throne. He didn’t touch any the plates, choosing instead to watch Malicine.
“You and I are similar in ways beyond blood, my child. I was trapped in the prisons of your world’s rules. A world where humans are in power, and Fae are merely their slaves, expected to dedicateour entire lives to their bidding. I wasted so many years tending to his side, harvesting my magic only to fulfill a greedy human’s desires.”
“You mean King Samael.”
Sharp points of his teeth jutted over his lips. “You know of Gyldan history.”
“Enough of it, yes. I know there was an orphaned faerie who swore loyalty to the King of Gyldan after he took him in, only to betray him later by attempting murder. In their fight, they shed blood, and with his magic, created a portal to the underworld.”
Malicine set the goblet down on the table and stared into the black pits of his eyes. Talon stopped eating as well. The question hung in the air, unvoiced until now.
“You are Oleander, aren’t you?”
Malicine could hear the hum in both their pulses, syncing like two creatures of the same blood. They had put the pieces together the moment he revealed he had been a Fae in their world, only to morph into a demon here. It made sense, then, how he came here in the first place, and why his skin had turned green from the wicked envy he held against Samael.
“You found Samael’s book,” Oleander said.
“I assume you hid it from the humans because it didn’t paint you in a good light.”
His nostrils flared in indignation. “No. Samael wrote that I tried to kill him. But the truth is he was a coward who could not bear the thought of letting others know he was growing old and weak.”
Platters of food shook across the table and scattered apart. Stone faded away into darkness, shrouded by black smoke that entered the corners of Malicine’s vision. A red light filtered through the fog and drew a scene. Red curtains, candlelit walls. A man with bonesprotruding from sickly pale skin, begging on his knees. Standing in front of him was a younger man—no, not younger. He only appeared that way. In those familiar black eyes, Malicine could recognize their father. He looked strangely normal as a faerie: spider-spun wings, pale skin, sharp ears instead of horns.
Malicine watched King Samael beg Oleander to extend his life. He couldn’t handle the pain that came with a deteriorating body of old age. Oleander rejected his pleas, for granting humans immortality was forbidden among faeries. They reached a compromise where he would let the king pass peacefully instead. He began setting candles around the chambers, each flame a delicate piece of the magic circle he would cast.
Then King Samael attacked.
It happened before Oleander turned around, before Malicine could even blink. The knife flashed underneath his robe and pierced through Oleander’s skull. A squelch of flesh, an eruption of blood. The blade went through his head, two holes for him to bleed from.
