Aris
“Do not make an enemy out of her.”
Blake’s violet eyes hold my gaze for several seconds before flicking to the corner of the room, where Skye is busy playing with Maeve’s old dollhouse with the help of the female spirit, who seems incredibly fond of the girl. It’s no wonder. Skye is like warm sunshine on the coldest day, even if she’s strange and unreadable like her freak of a father.
Who… came when I called. Almost immediately.
“She hates me on a personal level already. I doubt that’ll change much in the negative.”
Blake tucks his hands in the pockets of his jacket, sucking his cheeks in thought. It’s strange seeing him like this–casual. Laid back. Like whatever darkness that lived within has been stripped from his soul… or, my theory, he finally accepted it and stopped it from ruling his life.
The God of Death inspects the carpet with the toe of his boot before sinking into an armchair and leveling me with a firm look. “I’m serious. If she wants something to meld, give it to her.”
“She fell through the floor and passed out in my arms last night. I’m not keen on giving her anything but a stern talking to.”
“If you must.” He leans back, crossing an ankle over his knee. “Alchemists are, by far, the most closely guarded secret in our family.”
“This is Posey. She’s not like that.”
“You told me she doesn’t use her gifts. I find it hard to believe she’s been able to keep them contained thus far, as powerful as she is.”
“I doubt she understands what she can do. She keeps them a secret from her own family.” I tap my fingers on my thigh in thought. “I want you to look into her head–”
“No.”
“Blake.”
“It’s not even that it would be crossing a boundary, but I can’t.”
“What do you mean, you can’t?”
“She’s different. Alchemists are… made different. I don’t know how else to explain it. They can naturally capture power and turn it into something else. If she hasn’t been properly trained in her powers, she could do so much harm to someone like me, or Skye, or you.”
I roll my eyes, but Blake arches a brow.
“You don’t believe me.”
“I don’t think it’s that deep. She’s hiding something, and I need to know what it is for her own safety.”
“You’re one to talk, seeing as you have a princess of Celestoria in this castle right now.”
Now I’m leaning back in my chair and leveling him with the same icy scowl he used to be known for. Fatherhood has softened him. Hanging out with Soren constantly has roughed him up around the edges. He used to be a man of blunt honesty and smooth, immoveable lines.
Now, he’s just Blake. My weird cousin with mind-bending powers and an aura that still makes me squirm. But still…. “Morgan is only here for a visit. The engagement is a rumor.”
“We all figured as much.”
“So the family is talking about it?”
“The grandparents, yeah. I took Marianna and the kids to visit Maddy and Isaac recently in Maatua–”
I wave a hand to shut him up. “I don’t care about that right now. Morgan doesn’t matter. What do I do about Posey?”
“Give her what she wants.” He shrugs.
“Access to the family vault?” I snort a laugh, shaking my head. “No.”
“Her powers took over last night, completely wiping her brain clean. That’s a bad thing, idiot. What do you think happens when my powers, or Maeve’s powers, or, hell, Lexa’s beast form takes over completely?”
“A temple gets blown up?”
Blake glares. I count it as a win. “Give her the mask. Let her do what she needs to with it. Give her an outlet.”
I don’t mention that the spirits of the house said the Goddess-damned same thing, but the words settle like an anvil, and I kind of have to give it to her now, don’t I?
Blake rises and stares at his daughter, the smallest of smiles on his face, but then he looks down at me, and that smile fades in an instant. He becomes serious. “I expect your presence at Solstice. Soren and I–”
“Your gentlemen's evening?” I smirk, and his glare deepens.
“It’s an important gathering of the ruling men in our generation, yes.”
Something sharp twists in my stomach. “Succession already?”
He nods. It’s short and sharp, and he looks at Skye again with a sigh he tries hard to stifle. “You’ve been holed up here, so you haven’t heard the news, but Adrien found his mate a few weeks ago.”
I think of Misty and Cole’s son–their oldest. The son she was pregnant with during the war against the Arcane Umbra. I don’t like Blake’s tone as he continues, “He traveled to Tarsian to visit the Alpha King of Oasia with Cole. Cole’s friend Declan is still a prince, you know, his father–”
“I’m aware of the connection.” And history, for Goddess’ sake, especially the fact that Cole gave up the title of Alpha King to Declan’s father after the war.
“Declan and Georgia’s daughter, Eva, is Adrien’s mate. Any child of theirs in the future will have a claim to Tarsian, and Maeve is already scheming to use that to her advantage.”
“It would create an official monopoly of power for our family.”
“Yes.” Blake checks his watch. “And with Soren’s ascension as the Alpha King of the Roguelands, and our family to the south in the Deadlands… we have a lot to discuss about who gets what when these kids come of age. Your kingdom, of course, is its own. Whatever children you have with Morgan–”
“I’m undecided on that front.”
I can feel Blake staring, but I refuse to meet his gaze. He’s silent for several seconds, the quiet broken by Skye’s squeals of delight when the spirit makes the dollhouse’s lights flicker.
Finally, he asks, “Do you want me to speak to Posey about what we discussed?”
“No. I’ll handle it.”
“If she fights it, say it’s by royal decree. We need her. She’s invaluable to our family.”
I exhale deeply. He has no idea how fucking stubborn that woman can be. I doubt a decree will make a Goddess-damned difference. Again, I imagine having to chain her to the bed to keep her here, and that’s looking more likely with each passing second.
***
Posey
Bandages weave lightly around my fingertips. I examine them in the silvery winter sunlight fanning through the thick curtains. I stopped trying to escape my room two hours ago, when it became evident that I’d been given some type of tonic to calm my nerves, which also successfully blocked most of my resonance, which meant bending the iron door jamb wasn’t an option.
Still, when the door finally opens midmorning, I fly out of bed only to stop short when Aris darkens the doorway.
I grip the fourposter for support. He steps into the light, kicking the door shut behind him, his face set in neutrality as he carries a heavy wooden box toward me.
“We need to talk,” he says, and I expected this. Of course I did. I fell through the floor and then, essentially, blacked out. I have vague memories of last night, but they’re jumbled, broken by that sharp pain in my fingers that grows worse when he sets the box on the foot of my bed and lets his shadows creep from his fingertips, unlocking it with his powers.
I chew my lip. I should move, step out of his way and angle my body for a full view of the box’s contents, but the cold look on his face is killing me.
“Is the fawn okay?” I ask, and his expression softens for several seconds before hardening to ice again.
“She’s fine. Your dough, on the other hand, had to be tossed out.”
He reaches into the box and pulls out… Goddess.
“I need you to listen to me very carefully. Do not speak. Do not give me an answer until you hear me out.”
He turns the… Holy shit. The Shadowsynger mask. He angles it into the sunlight, and it’s….
I find it hard to swallow. My powers rile. I choke them down, wishing I had that copper ring again. So badly.
The mask is hard to explain. It’s very old and meant to completely cover his face. Three prongs of iron protect the cheeks, the nose, and chin. Gems of unnatural origin are dotted throughout, but several are missing, and one of the prongs is mangled, like whoever wore it last took a catastrophic blow to the side of the face, which is likely what happened judging by the state of the artifact. It’s so old. It looks like it’ll shatter in his hands with one wrong move.
It can’t hold his powers in this state. Not like his bracelets or his grandfather’s sword of shadow can.
“You’re useful to me,” he says under his breath like it’s painful, like he doesn’t want to be saying it, “and therefore… priceless to my kingdom. To my family. You shouldn’t have been able to open the vault. No one can do it unless they’re like me, my mother, or my grandfather. It was built that way.”
“My father–”
“Can’t. I confirmed it. It can only be opened by a Shadowsynger or…”
I don’t understand. “Aris–”
“You’re an incredibly powerful alchemist, Posey, and I cannot allow that to be wasted. My family cannot allow it, and that means you are no longer allowed to become a priestess.”
He finally meets my eyes.
I hadn’t expected them to be shining with what I can only describe as guilt. I should argue. In any other circumstance, I would, but the look he’s giving me is almost enough to bring me to my knees.
“What?”
“You were pulled from the training program this morning. Your robes were returned. Your name will be scrubbed from the list of trainees. You’re no longer a priestess in training. You’re mine. My alchemist. And you’re going to fix this for me.”
He shoves the mask into my hands. I almost drop it. It’s heavy. Much heavier than I expected it to be.
“I–I can’t. Aris, I can’t stay here–”
“Neither of us have a choice now, Posey.” He turns toward the door and takes several determined steps in its direction, then stops, saying over his shoulder, “I’ll show you your new workspace when it’s ready.”
“Aris, I can’t stay here!” I shout, clutching the mask for dear life.
“Why? Are you ready to tell me the truth?”
Dread knocks me sideways. Somehow, someway, I remain standing, gripping the mask like it’s my only lifeline. I think about the moon cycle, about my heat this summer, how I haven’t had one since. I count the days until the next full moon. Barely a week.
When I don’t reply and instead clamp my mouth shut, he turns ever so slightly, brows raised. “Are you in love with someone else?”
“What? No.”
“Were you really dead set on being a priestess, then? Was it really what you wanted? Tell me the truth.”
“You won’t believe me. You never have.”
“I’ll believe you now. Tell me you want to be a priestess, and I’ll make it happen, my sister and cousin be damned. What do you want? Do you want this?” He points at the mask. I wonder if he can see the excitement in my eyes, if he can see the dread dripping off me like sweat, if he notices how I’m falling to pieces right in front of him. “Or do you want to go? Because I cannot stand here in your presence any longer. It’s killing me. You being here is killing me, Posey. I’m supposed to be bonding with my fiance. If you leave–if you want to be a priestess, I’ll make it happen even if I don’t think you should.”
“I’m sorry I’m getting in your way of that–”
He raises a hand and looks at the floor like he can’t stand to hold my gaze for another second. I did this to us. This is my fault…
“Do you want freedom to use your alchemy with my family’s protection or to be a priestess? If it’s the latter, I’ll have you stationed elsewhere.”
“Can I ask a few questions?”
He rolls his eyes to the ceiling and laughs, but it’s bitter. “Alchemy it is.”
“Wait!”
“If you’re going to ask if your family will find out, don’t bother. They won’t.”
“But how?”
“It’s not your problem.”
“It is because if they know I can do alchemy, they’ll think I can shift!”
“Can you?” His tone slices the air between us into pieces. He hates me. Hates me so much, and it’s killing me, but it’s what I deserve.
Another lie slips free. “No. I can’t.”
Silence fills the room like poisonous gas–suffocating and caustic. I watch Aris’s chest rise and fall, watch the way his fingers clench into fists at his sides, and wait.
“Do not leave this room until I come back.”
“Am I your prisoner?” I spit, letting my tangled thoughts turn to fury.
The door clicking shut and locking in his wake is my answer.