In fact, he didn’t do anything at all.
She lowered her knife slowly and took a step back. “Sorry.”
“Oh, good. It’s skittish.”
“I’m not—you snuck up on me.” She glared at him, and then decided it was probably best not to taunt the man. She took another step back. “I’m used to being attacked when I’m snuck up on.”
“I see. By these ‘zombies’ of yours?”
“We call them drengil.”
Finally, the man moved. He walked right toward her, and then…right past her toward his fireplace. She loosened her grip on her knife, not having realized she had been grasping it hard enough for her knuckles to go white.
“Lyon mentioned you spoke a language that is foreign to the Ancients. Fascinating. I am Aon, the King of Shadows, in case you hadn’t worked that out on your own.” He sank down into a chair in front of the fire and motioned to the empty one across from him.
“I took a wild guess.” She followed him and, after a pause, sheathed her knife back in her belt and sat down. She felt ridiculously out of place in her tattered, stained, and cobbled-together clothing in such a fancy environment.
He chuckled. “I am sure you have already been warned. I heard Maverick’s whispered words of dread as you arrived. Good. Then I will make this brief. You will tell me everything. Absolutely everything that you know.”
“Uh…literally?”
“No, not literally.” With a sigh, he placed a hand on the arm of the chair. One of his hands was covered in a black leather glove. But the other was a metal gauntlet. Carefully detailed like everything else in his home, it was a work of art. Complete with its long, pointed, deadly-looking claws. She couldn’t help but stare.
“Before you ask, it is a prosthetic.”
She furrowed her brow. “I thought your kind healed.”
“We do. Unless something, such as magic or a curse, impedes it. I could remove the curse, but I find myself unwilling to do so. This is a memory of a time long gone.” He lifted his metal hand and turned it, allowing her to see more of the craftmanship.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Thank you.” He put his hand back down.
She watched him, fascinated. “Why did you tell me that? About the hand? It seems personal. You don’t seem like the sharing type.”
“You’re correct, I am not. Why do you think I told you?”
She paused to think over her answer before she spoke. “Because you want me to feel safe enough to tell you everything you want to know. You want me to trust you.”
“You do not seem like the trusting type, my dear Ember. Nor the type to view anything as ‘safe.’ You see your surroundings as nothing more than an impermanent situation. Even now, I see you glancing toward the windows and doors. Am I correct?”
She nodded.
“I told you about my hand because it means nothing to you. Even now, you are satisfied with my answer. You do not care why I choose to keep it.”
“It’s not my business.” She shrugged. “If you’re as old as everyone says, I’m sure you have your reasons. Besides, I don’t think we have time to listen to your whole life story.” She tried to smile and managed a small one. “Since we’re about to fight an army of the dead.”
“Good.” Aon let out a small breath. “Skittish, but sensible. Are you willing to aid me in defending this world, then?”
“My life has been dedicated to nothing but fighting the drengil. I lost Gioll. I will do everything I can to protect Under.”
“Then start at the beginning, Ember. Tell me of your life on Gioll.”
Dtu watched as the mortals filed into Aon’s home, huddled together in their terror. He growled low in his throat.
“I know you dislike this, old dog,” Kamira said from where she was perched atop a statue beside him. “I dislike it just as much. But the logic holds sound. When Rxa shows up with his army, we can’t fight him and protect the mortals.”
“I do not trust Aon.” He sank down onto his haunches. He had the urge to tear up the warlock’s precious gardens out of spite. But now was not the time for pointless infighting, even if he desperately wanted to lift his leg and piss in the man’s centerpiece of a fountain.
“No one does.” Kamira stretched and leaned back against the statue, draping herself across the top of the stone depiction of some old war hero. Or perhaps it was one of Aon’s previous elders. Dtu didn’t care enough to find out. “Save maybe Lydia. Maybe.”
“Once this matter with Rxa is dealt with, we should take the mortals to her.” Dtu sniffed the air. Someone was sneaking around the hedges. A mortal. He knew the man by his scent. Odd. “She will take care of them.”
“I agree. The first chance we get.” Kamira grinned. “Meanwhile, you seem to have a new little friend.”
“Why do you insist on taunting me at every turn?”
“Because it’s fun.” She sat up and jumped from the top of the statue. She landed gracefully and headed off down another path, her tail swishing. “I’ll leave you to it. I’m going to go locate my husband.”
Dtu stayed silent for a long moment, his ears twitching with the mortal man’s pathetic attempts to sneak around him. “You can come out, Jakob.”
There was a crunch of breaking sticks as the man fell over, Dtu having startled him out of hiding. He stood quickly, brushing the dirt and bits of leaves off himself. He looked as though he had been trying to sneak around inside the hedge. “Oh. You heard me?”
“And smelled you.” Dtu lowered himself down to rest on all fours, sitting like a canine might. Hopefully, it made him less alarming, even if Jakob seemed utterly unfazed by everything around him. “Why are you not inside?”
“I wanted to see if you were okay.” The young man smiled. His eyes shone with bright curiosity.
“Why would I not be?”
Jakob’s expression faltered. “I—I don’t know. I guess…all right, I’ll confess. I just wanted to talk to you.” He smiled again, moving toward the base of a statue near where Dtu was sitting, and plopped himself down.
“Why?”
Jakob’s warm smile flickered again. “Why not? You seem nice.”
“Hm.” He turned his head to look toward the estate. “It grows late.”
“I’ll go inside soon. Are you coming? I heard someone mention that your kind don’t like being indoors.”
“We don’t. And no. I will stay out here and keep watch. Sleeping outdoors does not trouble me.”
“Me neither. That’s good! I mean, I suppose it wouldn’t trouble you, since you’re a Varúlfur and all.” The mortal chuckled. “But something does seem wrong. Am I bothering you? I—I can go away.”
“No.” He sighed. “I dislike it here immensely. I dislike the master of this place even more so.”
“Why?”
“There is bad blood between myself and the King of Shadows.”
When Jakob stayed silent, clearly expecting more, Dtu wasn’t quite sure what to do. The mortal was watching him with that sweet, warm smile.
Dtu lowered his head to his paws and turned his attention fully to the man beside him. He was so unassuming. So friendly. So optimistic.
Everything Dtu wasn’t. Or at least, everything Dtu had ceased to be for a very, very long time. “It’s a boring story.”
“I doubt it. I’m not sure anything in this world of yours could be boring. I mean—I think I saw a flower with teeth just a minute ago. I think it was trying to eat me.” Jakob laughed.
“How can you be so cheerful in a situation like this?”
“I’ve spent my entire life knowing I was one second from dying. Every minute might be my last. Either from drengil or from other people’s cruelty. When you know that, and accept that, you can either be mad about it, or enjoy every second you have left. At least now my death’ll be something interesting.” He looked up at the stars and the moons, marveling at what he saw. “At least I’ll die to something more beautiful than a rotted corpse.”
<
br /> “I wouldn’t count on that just yet. It seems your rotted corpses are trying to do the same to Under as they did to Gioll.”
“But my world didn’t have someone who could save it. We tried. Hunters like Ember, they tried their best. But it wasn’t enough.” Jakob was still smiling, and his blue eyes looked like the ocean in the dim light of the lanterns nearby. “We didn’t have anyone like you.”
“I cannot keep you safe.”
“I know that. I’m not saying you can.” Jakob turned his attention back to Dtu, and there was a tenderness in his expression that caught him off guard. “I’m saying you might try.”
Dtu shifted. “I will do all that I can.”
“That’s all anybody can ask.” Jakob shrugged. “Now, tell me this boring story of yours. Why do you and the King of Shadows hate each other?”
“He does not hate me. I do not think so, anyway. No more than he despises everyone around him, save his lover.” Dtu shut his eyes. From Jakob’s perspective, the green flames that were the only things visible in his empty eye sockets simply blinked out.
It was easier to picture his memories that way.
“There has never been any love lost between he and I. He is egotistical, grandiose, and sought to reshape the world to his own desires. Nearly two thousand years ago now, he began a war. A great and terrible war that divided us and pitted the houses against each other. It was all a ruse. It was all so that he could have the opportunity to take Qta, the King of Dreams, as his prisoner. He brutally tortured Qta. Broke his mind, his body, and his soul. And then, when nothing was left of his victim, murdered him.”
“Oh…I…I’m so sorry.”
Dtu continued. “In doing so, he doomed our world. Each of the houses must be served by a royal, or else the balance of Under is upended. Without a King of Dreams, the void came to crush us all. And it nearly did. Only at the last second did the Ancients see fit to replace Qta.”
“With who?”
“Lydia. Aon’s lover.” He couldn’t keep the growl out of his voice. “The fallout of her arrival nearly destroyed the world again. Rxa, rightfully suspecting Lydia to be an abomination and a work of Aon’s manipulation, bound her in chains and sent her to the bottom of the lake of blood where the Ancients were imprisoned. To free her, Aon would have to murder Rxa and free the Ancients. And out of love for her, he did.”
“What happened? I mean…the world didn’t end.”
“It did, for a time. Or at least, it was rewritten to a time long since past, when Aon ruled this world alone. All of us were taken from Earth, but he was made here by them. He is their only true son. It was not until Lydia agreed to sacrifice herself out of her own love for Aon that the Ancients deemed her truly worthy. Aon chose to be as he is now, our equal, instead of ruling on an empty throne. Now, they willingly slumber in their cage, though it remains unlocked.”
“So why do you hate him? It sounds like he just…made some really bad decisions.”
Dtu tried very hard not to explain to the mortal how the murderous King of Shadows had done far, far more than simply make some “really bad decisions.” He bit back his growl and kept his mouth shut for a long pause.
Then he said it. “Qta and I were lovers.” Why am I confiding in a mortal?
Jakob didn’t respond. For a moment, Dtu wondered if the man had left. But the young man was loud in his steps and particular in his scent, that Dtu would have noticed. When Jakob got up, he was convinced the man was going to walk away.
Dtu knew that on Earth, for many years, sexual preferences like his were shunned and scorned. Things were very different on Under, but he did not know what those of Gioll might think of a man who preferred the affections of another man.
He jolted in surprise as Jakob sat down on the ground next to him and leaned against his front leg. He blinked his eyes open and lifted his head from his paws.
Jakob petted the fur on Dtu’s leg. “I’m so sorry…”
There was no judgement in the man’s face, only sorrow.
“It has been a very long time.” Dtu didn’t have the heart to stop the man from gently petting him. It felt good, regardless. He laid his head back down on his paws.
“I’m not as old as you—not nearly.” Jakob chuckled for a moment, before his voice was overcome with sadness once more. “But I lost someone I cared about, too. His name was Uthin. Must have been eight years ago now. We were both just kids. But I loved him as much as I think anybody can love another person. I…I was traveling with a band of other merchants, and he was our bodyguard. He looked meaner than he was. One day on the road, the drengil found us. Easily a hundred of them. I escaped, but…sometimes, late at night, when I’m dreaming, I can still hear his screams as they tore him apart.”
“I can still hear Qta laugh. Now and then I expect to see him again. But he is gone. Sometimes I wish that he would return.” Dtu shut his eyes again, curling his tail around himself and Jakob. “But from what I hear of what has become of Rxa, perhaps I shouldn’t wish anything of the sort.”
“Making wishes of the gods is a dangerous game. Sometimes I think they grant them in the cruelest way for fun.”
“That is amazingly accurate.”
Without a word, Jakob rested his head against Dtu’s arm, and…snuggled into him. Once more, Dtu didn’t have the heart to move him. Nor did he find he had the desire to. He curled himself around the young man and, with a long, heavy breath, let himself enjoy the company.
When Jakob’s breathing began to slow and smooth, Dtu realized the mortal had fallen asleep. The young man must have been exhausted. If so, he hid it well. But the rigors of the long and fast march had taken their toll.
Dtu should move him. He should get up. He should shoo the young man away and send him inside with the other mortals.
He really should.
He didn’t.
Ember sat back in her chair. The firelight was flickering across the surface of Aon’s metal mask, somehow making the man look even more frightening. The King of Shadows sat there silently, barely even moving. It felt as though she had been speaking to an illusion or a specter as she relayed to him every detail she could possibly think was useful to him.
How she was raised as a hunter and chosen to be a graedari. The effects of the serum that they used to make her immune to the disease carried by the drengil. She told him about Ash and his death—although she skipped the details of how exactly he had died. That much was deeply personal, and she knew it wasn’t useful information.
And then there were the run-ins with Rxa. She felt her cheeks grow hot as she explained how the strange, broken man had tried to bite her twice. She touched her neck absentmindedly, feeling the ghost of how Rxa had kissed her there.
When she finished talking, the silence in the room felt oppressive. The only noise was the soft crackle of the fireplace.
Maybe he fell asleep? I did talk for a really long time.
Hard to tell, since he’s got that mask on.
“Rxa did not harm you.”
She jolted as he spoke and swore at herself silently. It was bad enough that he already thought she was skittish. She didn’t need to make it worse. “No. Neither time. He almost did, though. But both times, Lyon stopped him from killing me.”
“He would not have killed you. Indeed, I do not think he would have hurt you.”
“He tried to bite me. How is that not hurting me?” She arched an eyebrow at the man.
“You are clearly unaware of how a vampire’s bite functions. Perhaps Lyon might give you a demonstration later.” Aon stood from his chair and moved closer to the fireplace, leaning his black gloved hand on the mantel. “You say that he wished you to join him?”
“Yeah. He wanted me to stick with him instead of going with Lyon when he found me on the street in Yej.”
“And that he was concerned for your safety.”
“I don’t think he’s playing with a full deck of cards. I wouldn’t put much stock into that.”
; “Clearly not, no.” Aon chuckled. “I appreciate your candid story. While there are clearly some painful details you omitted, I will allow them to remain private. We are finished for the night. Tomorrow, when you are rested, I will begin studying your bloodwork to see if I might understand more of precisely how you are made immune to the poison the drengil carry.”
That was a relief. At least she wouldn’t be tortured until tomorrow. “Thank you.”
He nodded once. “I will have one of my servants take you to a room for the night.”
“Not where you’re keeping everyone else?”
“No. I wish to keep a closer eye on you, Ember.”
“Why?”
“I have a trap to set for my dear old friend.” The featureless black metal mask turned to her. “And simply put…you are my bait.”
22
“You plan to use her as what?”
Ember sat on the window bench seat of Aon’s enormous library. She wanted to stay far away from the conversation. It wasn’t that she had a problem with any of the kings or queens who sat at the King of Shadow’s table, she just didn’t…feel like she had any business being there.
She had slept all right, all things considered. Aon had put her up in a room that was easily the fanciest and most expensive thing she could have imagined. The bed was big and fluffy—almost too much so. The bathroom was lavish. Everything was gilded in gold, silver, or copper. When she had climbed out of the tub, she had found a pile of clothes on her bed. Which was odd, because she had barricaded the door.
They have magic. The chair I shoved under the doorknob wouldn’t stop them.
On it had been a simple note. “I cannot have you wandering about my home looking—and smelling—like a common street urchin.”
It hadn’t left much room to wonder about who had written it.
She dreaded to see what he had left for her. She expected something flouncy and utterly impractical. But what she found instead was a perfectly functional, clean set of clothing that would be easy to move in and comfortable to wear. And the boots he had given her actually fit. It was immensely generous of her host.
Mask of Poison (Fall of Under Book 1) Page 22
