“There is something carved into her waist,” I said through clenched teeth, and Theo’s gaze dropped to the exposed skin. Theo nodded for me to continue, although his jaw was tight.
I leaned down and examined the mark. It was as if it were still bleeding, but no blood dripped from it. It was crudely carved, as if whoever did it wanted it to hurt. My brows touched as I skimmed a thumb over it. Magic pulsed and my skin tingled.
The symbol was a V with a line down its middle, similar to the Velra crest without its crown. I studied it closer, and I felt Aria next to me as she examined it as well. The blood swirled within its marks, as if alive, and I swallowed thickly.
My mind whirled. The blood looked trapped, slightly raised on the skin, by some sort of magic. Standing up straight, my muscles locked.
“Get an owl, Aria. We need to send a letter to my brother.”
Chapter 20
Zara
It had been three days since I returned from Blackrock. Three days since that awful encounter with Atticus… with Xavier. What she forced me to do was unforgivable. I hurt Julian, and worse, their uncle's death was now on my hands.
My thoughts turned to Atticus. That bastard. Then, they shifted back to Xavier. I fought back the surge of emotion, the rising guilt and self-loathing. It was heavy, nearly impossible to push back down, but I managed. I couldn't let myself dwell on it… on them.
I was in Territan. The so-called castle—though I'd hardly call it that—loomed beyond the crowd that surrounded me. Aria’s home. It wasn’t as large as others I’ve seen in Nexia. It was more like a grand mansion than a proper castle, and Territan was certainly the smallest of the territories.
I'd searched every room, every corner of her home. I could have had the guards do it, but I was curious. I couldn’t help wondering what the bitter, sharp-tongued bitch surrounded herself with.
Shockingly enough, it was just as empty and cold as her. The only thing of any sentimental value were the portraits on the walls.
Her room was utterly devoid of personality, containing only a bed, a dresser, and a large mirror. A grand fireplace dominated one wall, but where were her books, letters, and… maps? It felt as though she had never truly lived here, as if the place had been abandoned long before we took possession of it. The only indication that she indeed stayed here was a large, messy ball of blankets haphazardly bundled in the corner. Golden-brown feathers scattered amongst them told me all I needed to know.
I hadn’t been able to stop the small smile at seeing it. Her beasts really were loyal.
On the bare stone wall of her room hung a single, large portrait. Aria's angular face had stared back at me from the canvas, disapprovingly. In this depiction, she was merely a child, yet her sharp, dark eyes and long, fiery hair made it feel as though she were right there, watching me—scowling. She stood between a man and a woman, her parents.
Her father actually looked happy, with his dark, wavy hair framing a kind face and his light brown eyes crinkling at the corners with a soft, genuine smile. Her mother, however, did not smile. Neither did Aria.
That earned a quiet snort from me. That must have been where she got her sunny disposition.
Aria looked very much like them. Her father's strong chin and prominent nose were unmistakable, while her mother's piercing eyes and vivid red hair were clearly inherited. Both her parents were striking, handsome in a severe, battle-hardened way, possessing the aura of warriors—strong and fierce.Xavier had told me that they had both died in the last war, the very war Morgana was now reigniting.
The rest of the castle was more or less the same. A few portraits throughout featured Xavier’s family as well, and to my great amusement, all the ones Jaxon had been in were torn.
Correction.
Each portrait had a dagger protruding from his face.
I couldn’t help but laugh every time I passed one, but it was also a stark reminder of the history they all shared, and it twisted my gut with an unfamiliar feeling.
Most of the other rooms were untouched. Dusty and draped in white cloth, clearly unused. Only three looked maintained, likely for the others when they visited.
Lana and I had chosen rooms on opposite sides of the castle, making sure the best room was prepared to Morgana’s liking for when she arrived.
The castle in Territan differed from the other territories. Unlike Mirronian being set away from the village, behind a gate, and Niverrian separated by gates and bridges, this one was set up so that when you stepped out, you were right in the village.
The tall, round wooden front doors opened onto a large town square. From there, the village unfolded as a labyrinth of mossy paths and long stone buildings. These structures were arranged into squares, each featuring its own central courtyard. The paths continued to wind through the forest, leading to cottages and other stone buildings where the villagers who didn't live in their hybrid shops resided.
It would have been beautiful if it weren’t now covered in tattered tents, steel, and bitter Fae.
We were sent here by Morgana to prepare. This village served as our main outpost, from which we assigned and directed our soldiers to other outposts along the ward's edge or to establish new ones. It was the central village where we would gather before the main battle. The rest of her army, includingher, would arrive in one week, and I’ve had three fucking days to dwell on the manipulation that was my life.
I was never anything but a pawn. Meant to be used over and over to serve her needs. The worst part was… I already knew that. She had convinced me time and time again that I was doing it for the right reasons. Compelled me to believe I agreed with her. That I wanted what she wanted.
I had always known, always felt it—I just didn’t want to admit it.
