Edenael didn’t have a clue about the truth of Mortevain Island at all. They’d lost their King, Queen, Prince, and Princess all at once while their remaining heir had been captured. Stars. I looked around the manor with fresh eyes while Obsidian continued his flight. The darkness, the solemnitude, the isolation. All of it was beginning to make sense.
I thought of the Mortevain King. My wingmate. My husband.
And I grieved for him.
The Gargorètti flew at a leisurely pace, much to my gratitude. I’d grunted twice when he’d increased his speed. Instinctively he slowed down and hadn’t sped up again. Obsidian flew down the hallways and through the foyers I’d tried escaping through when I first awoke in the manor. I couldn’t really appreciate it at the time. Now, I saw the manor for what it was.
A magnificent work of art.
All the ceilings were vaulted. Kaleidoscope tiles were interspersed throughout the designs across the ceiling and down the walls. Every turn Obsidian took, there were endless sconces alight with a warm, golden flame. I lost count of ethèrlamps brightening the different spaces, plus endless tapestries depicting different eras of Mortevain.
“Over here is the private dance hall the Rois would escape to so they could be alone.”
I looked at the ornate doors, Victorian in pattern, with a large lock sealed by ethèr. A tiny soul floated around, gnashing its teeth when we flew too close. I wondered why the dance hall had been sealed, so I asked.
“Roi Tassarion commanded it.”
“But why, Obsidian?”
“I’m not sure, Roièssa. He sealed many chambers after the deaths of the Rois and his escape from Belial.”
His escape fromwhere?
I was flabbergasted at the thought of the king being in the Underrealm itself. Escape alluded to captivity, not cooperation, which was the story told across Edenael Island. I thought back to my first encounter with Tassarion.
“Funny how you all traded kidnapping for running off. I’d love to know what else you were wrongfully told about my family. My island.”
They’d been attacked, and he had been kidnapped.
And taken to the Underrealm.
I thought of all his stitches. All of his scars. Like he’d been unmade, broken over and over, before being put back together again. My stomach churned with the revelation. I felt ill.
“What happened to the Everthorns, Obsidian?” I whispered as Bones raced easily to keep up with the gargoyle’s flight.
“The Beauradèls happened,” said Obsidian, matter-of-factly, as he turned down another hall and used a wing to point. “Okay, there is the chamber the Everthorns would share their private meals before leaving for the garden to take their evening flight.” Another turn down another long hall. “But yes, as I was saying. The Beauradèls. They were dear friends to the Everthorns. The Everthorn younglings were raised with the Beauradèls. Tassarion, Tovares, and Vitani called them Tati and Unka because they grew up believing the Beauradèls were their aunt and uncle. Marcèllian was part of the Ministeri—the parliament of Mortevain—and always had the ear of Roi Tazzias. The next thing we all knew, the Trumpet Gate was breached. The Fallen King, Zemshaza and his army of hèlsborn had flown through. Zemshaza came with a group of Fallen Angels,andhe brought Spirit Harvesters. Before the end of the dawn, our Roi, Roièssa, Princes and Princèssa fell. One prince was taken. The other went missing. The bodies of Tovares and Vitani haven’t been found since, but we believe Vitani is no more.”
My hearts shriveled in my chest.
Oh, Tassarion.
Is that how he became so scarred?
Was it on the dawn his Manmi and Papi fell?
“No, my curious Phantimèssa. It wasn’t.”
I nearly leapt off the back of the Gargorètti, screaming with fright. How in the living rot was Tassarion speaking into my mind? Angels couldn’t just breach...
I looked again at the wingmate mark.
Oh, blessed lights.
A dark, scintillating chuckle rumbled in my mind and down my chest. Obsidian kept flying, kept giving me history about every chamber we passed as we crossed from the east wing to the west. But I didn’t hear a word. My mind was fixated on Tassarion and I’s bond. On his ability to talk to me through our bond, telepathically. Which also meant...
“Tassarion, stay out of my head. You don’t have permission to prattle on in my thoughts.”
A snort tumbled down the bond followed by an obnoxious cackle.
