Page 43 of Secrets of the Six

I inhale deeply, refusing to allow one tear to slip down my cheek. This is why I shouldn't allow myself to have feelings for these people. They say they care but when you offer them your trust, they trample you.

This is a job, Ines. This is a job and nothing more.

You are nothing. You are no one. You are alone. And soon, they will be your undoing.

I repeat the mantra to myself several times as I sink my teeth into a slice of cheese.

At the end of the day, I can only look out for myself.

Chapter 15

Remus

I feel like shit.

Laying one harmful finger on Ines made me hate myself more than I already do.

For fifteen years, I've been faithful to fulfill my oath, even when it costs me pieces of my soul. Torturing Ines last night ripped another part of my humanity to shreds.

I despise myself.

I despise bloodying my hands.

But I know it's better this way.

Cas needs to be of honorable repute if he is to reclaim his familial throne and unite our fragmented city and peoples. But hell, it hurts to be the one with a sinful soul and blackened heart. To have everyone I know look at me as callous and cruel with no regard for other's feelings.

The truth they don't know is every night before I rest my head atop my pillow, I pray to whatever Saints might be listening to forgive me. To forgive me for all the wrong I've inflicted in order for good to have a clear pathway to defeating evil.

Would my parents be proud of the man I have become? I don't want to answer that question. I'm afraid the answer will be no.

They were honorable, faithful, and kind. Despite their path being a rocky one, they never wavered in their devotion to one another and their quest for peace. Everyone knew exactly what they stood for and where their line was drawn in the politics of Orlencia.

I traipse around this city as two different men; neither which truly reflect who I really am. It's lonely being seen as the villain.

But for some reason, when Ines came into the picture, I felt for the first time in years, I wasn't actually alone. I could feel her pain, sense her anger, and I've had to fight the urge to let my walls crumble at her feet and tell her I understand. I know pain, I know suffering, I know what it feels like to be misunderstood.

But I can't.

I can't allow her, or anyone else, to see who I truly am.

Love is a weakness, and she would be my undoing. For years, I've supplanted my feelings, my hopes, my fears, and ultimately my dreams all for the sake of furthering our cause, honoring our true king, and avenging the loved ones wrongfully stolen from us.

The Venturans inhabited an island nearly one hundred miles from the shores of Orlencia. The Venturans and Orlencians had trade agreements in place and were never at odds politically, but apart from business, our kind didn't mix with theirs. It wasn't until the dormant volcano, Mount Caius, erupted, that our people had little choice but to look elsewhere for a fresh start.

When flying debris damaged or sunk most of our ships, my parents, Generals Vitalis and Boudica Kane, led our people across the sea via way of the sky. Whether from exhaustion, old age or under-developed wings, some did not make the long flight to Orlencia and one-by-one fell into the water, never to be seen again. But the ones who survived asked King Armando for aid and the Orlencian ruler answered with kindness and compassion.

My parents weren't fools, they were aware many members of the king's council weren't keen on us integrating into their society but when Doña Otero threw her political weight in favor of the king's agenda, the other Dons backed down. The Wings offering to defend and protect Orlencia also helped sway some of the undecided members.

Five years after the Venturans were welcomed to Orlencia, I was amongst the first generation born here. Equally Venturan and Orlencian – nothing the world had ever seen before. Walking through the streets, or flying above, the Orlencian citizens would study our black-feathered wings in awe, and I remember believing I was special. My parents would quickly remind me being both Venturan and Orlencian meant more than being special; it meant I had a responsibility to keep our two peoples united.

As a young child, I had no idea what that meant. But now, at twenty-five, I fully understand the weight my parents shouldered.

I remember the night everything changed.

Parts of the city were on fire; people were angry, and the palace was under siege. The Soberano had secretly incited a riot and dispatched his right hand, Severo Murrieta, to drag every Venturan they could find from their beds and put them to the sword; my parents being among the fallen.

I recall the panic inside the palace. The king and queen were already dead – assassinated in their bed which instigated the civil unrest.