by Ivy Asher
“Keep purring, little kitten, it’s music to our ears,” he jeers.
I glare at him but tell myself not to engage. No good will come from pissing off someone who I might be dealing with for who knows how long. Yeah, I’m being taken to the Syta, but what happens after that? The cat-loving asshole could be my warden for all I know at this point—or my future torturer. I swallow down the bile that creeps up the back of my throat at that thought. What happens if I can’t pull this off and they don’t believe me?
What Zeph and Ryn put me through in order to interrogate me blazes forward in my mind. I shiver. I hope it doesn’t get worse than that. I push those thoughts away and try to distract myself with my surroundings.
People move here and there, each of their strides filled with purpose as they make their way to some predetermined destination. No one pays me and my escorts much attention as I’m taken from a dungeon-bound hallway through a cavernous corridor. I’m surrounded by what looks like crystal and iron. The floor is the same cream stone that comprised the cliff castle, but the walls here are transparent. At first I think it’s glass, but I quickly realize it must be something else. The clear surface is smooth like glass, but there’s an unusual sparkle to it, and prisms dance in the corners of the massive translucent panes. Through the windowed walls, I can see crystalline high-rises all around us and a sliver of water between two large buildings.
It’s like I’m staring at some kind of bejeweled city, and I’m not sure what to make of any of it. Unusual shaped towers of varying heights glisten and sparkle in the sun. It’s so incredibly foreign and fantastical that I find myself feeling more lost than ever. Frustration surges through me that I was knocked out when I was brought here. How the fuck am I supposed to get my bearings or understand where I am now in relation to where I was? My head swings around like a pendulum as I try to take everything in. I spot a few gryphons flying through open crystal-like windows, but not nearly as many of them soaring about as there were in the Eyrie.
My guard stops suddenly.
I’m so busy paying attention to my surroundings that I almost run into the back of the large shifter. A boom sounds on the other side of the closed entrance, and the tall iron doors in front of us slowly split. They groan ominously as they’re opened, and fear and uncertainty surge through me. I take a deep breath and search for some of the brave I know I have tucked away somewhere inside me.
“Miss you, Pidge,” I lament.
I can’t help but send a silent plea to her for strength, even though I know it will go unanswered. I’m ushered inside of a room that makes me feel even more like I’ve landed in the middle of some kind of fairy tale city. The walls are the same iron bordered crystal, and they reach up several stories high into a dome above me. The room is easily the size of a football field and a half, and I’m tempted to scream out echo and listen to my voice bounce back to me over and over again. The clear walls to my side have some kind of magical fountain, and water pours tranquilly down them to collect in narrow lily pad covered pools below. Lotuses in every color imaginable bloom on the surface of the thin pools, and I catch sight of what I think is a fairy flitting from flower to flower.
I’ve never seen a fairy before, and I can’t seem to tear my eyes from it. I can barely make out the flit of wings; beyond that, it looks like a ball of light bouncing around the plants and water like it’s tending to them. I scan the rest of the magical waterfalls and pools, but I don’t spot any other little balls of light.
There’s no one else in here other than the group of guards around me and some other sentries standing here and there. I look around in awe, and I can’t get over the magical feel saturating this place. It reminds me of an echo of something I felt in Vedan when I sat with Nadi in the overgrown gazebo. There, it was like I was feeling the loss of something, but here, I’m overwhelmed by how alive it all feels.
The iron and crystal surrounding me has an industrial look to it, and yet it merges seamlessly with the touches of nature and the magic sprinkled throughout the space. The details in this room look like they shouldn’t fit together, but something about their essence feels the same, oddly enough.
I’m led deeper into the space until I’m standing almost at the far end of the long room, in front of several bulky, high-backed thrones. They appear to be made of the softest looking moss I’ve ever seen, and I have to fight the urge to step forward several feet and touch it. Really, I want to go full cat and rub all over it, but that’s a level of weird I doubt these people are up for.
I look down and discover that the guards have stopped me just shy of a rug that’s all grass. It looks like a living rug, and there are these delicate little purple flowers that trim the edges on every side.
Long black hair and blue eyes flash through my mind, and I try to blink away the image of the shifter that liked to call me flower. The feel of the knife in my hand when I held it to his throat comes to me unbidden. I’m sure wherever he is, he’s not thinking of me as some sweet purple bloom anymore.
The guards all around me are silent as death, but out of nowhere, they straighten, standing a little taller and a hell of a lot stiffer. That slight movement is the only indication I get that something is happening. Quietly, people slowly pour into the room single file and take a seat in the soft mossy thrones. Women in barely-there dresses sit demurely, their eyes trained on the chair in the middle. Some old and wizened males enter, and I automatically peg them as the brains of this line up. They’re followed by younger, muscled, and armor-clad males who I mark as the brawn.
My eyes narrow as I watch Ryn file in and claim a seat on the far left. How is he Hidden when he’s clearly some kind of leader or royal here? He smirks at me, and before I can stop it, another growl starts up in my chest, and I take a step forward. The guards in front of me tense and move to block my advance.
Get a fucking grip, Falon. How about we don’t invite a death sentence straight out of the gate.
Deep rumbling laughter fills the room, bouncing around the crystal surfaces and slowly getting absorbed by the greenery. A large chuckling shifter enters, his long straight white hair flowing behind him, and his smile accentuating the dimple in his chin. He looks familiar somehow, which doesn’t make much sense. He has one blue eye and one purple eye, and they’re filled with amusement as he takes me in.
Where the fuck do I know him from?
“What’s so funny, little brother?” another male asks as he follows the laugher in.
This male has light gray hair with white streaks in it. It falls just to his shoulders, thick and arrow straight. His aqua-colored eyes watch the amused face of the male he called little brother. There’s a cunning glint in his green-blue eyes, and it almost feels like he’s hunting the male who I think looks familiar as he confidently strolls to the throne in the middle and sits down. So this must be the Syta.
The leader of the Avowed doesn’t pay me any attention as he settles in and adjusts his soft cream-colored tunic. Oddly, all eyes—except for apparently his little brother’s—are fixed on him as if they’re not allowed to look anywhere else until they’ve been given permission.
I don’t know what to think of his arrival. I expected maybe an announcement or more fanfare involved in the entrance of the King of the Avowed. Instead, he just walks in casually as if whatever is about to happen is business as usual. What do I know, maybe it is. I realize I’m still growling quietly, and I immediately work to swallow it down.
Shit. Nice first impression, Falon. Just growl the whole time the leader enters.
I internally face palm and hope he doesn’t take it personally.
“Sorry, brother, it couldn’t be helped,” the familiar male I still can’t place starts. “I found our guest’s response to the Commander amusing. It seems she doesn’t take kindly to being rendered unconscious,” he adds, his mismatched eyes sparkling as if he’s letting me in on some inside joke.
Whatever it is, I don’t get it, and I study him for a beat as I try t
o solve the puzzle. Is he secretly Hidden too? No, that can’t be it. I would have remembered another Ouphe tainted gryphon aside from me and Ami. Especially another white-haired and purple-eyed highborn looking person like me in the Eyrie. Ami’s face flares in my mind. I hope he’s okay. I wonder what he and Tysa think about my leaving. Maybe I should have taken the time to say goodbye. Guilt stirs inside of me, but I push it away to deal with later. I focus on the row of moss covered thrones and try to figure out which one of them is the friendly lie detector-slash-seer that Ryn said would be present.
“Shall we get started?” the Syta asks, finally done primping and settling into his throne. His tone sounds bored, and I don’t know if I should be offended or worried by that.
No one answers, which seems to be what he expects, and he gives a nod and finally turns his piercing gaze to me. I can’t explain the feeling that washes through me when his eyes connect with mine. It’s like I can feel his power, and it’s hard as fuck not to buckle under the weight of it. There’s a humming sensation that starts up just under my skin, and it’s as if his power is calling to the power that exists in me.
It’s not exactly a comfortable sensation. Our magics don’t feel like old friends that hug and pat each other too hard on the back and start reminiscing about the good times. His magical touch has an arrogance and vitality to it. Mine feels more like an ancient grumpy presence that’s pissed because someone just fucked with its nap. The Syta just stares at me, and I can’t help but feel suddenly vulnerable, as if his stare alone has stripped me bare. I get the distinct impression that he’s trying to hold on to something he’s taken from me. Something that he has no right to. I don’t exactly understand what all of this means, but the ancient power rolling inside of me feels like it wants to flex.
I drop my chin slightly and stare at the Syta, determined to give him a lesson in not touching things that don’t belong to him. One of his eyebrows flicks up, intrigued, but the weird ass staring contest continues. The room is still, you could hear a pin drop, which is strange because I would think the waterfalls on the walls would make some kind of noise. I can see slight movement in my peripheral, but I don’t dare pull my attention from the aqua stare fixed on me.
Challenge accepted. I just hope it doesn’t get me killed.
3
“So it appears that what my brother and his soldiers have said is true,” the Syta starts, like he’s hoping his voice will snap me out of my fixed stare. “You are not marked, and I have no sway over you. They also tell me that you claim to not be from here, is that correct?” the Syta asks me, his eyes never blinking.
“Yes,” I answer, simply tilting my head to the side slightly.
His casual mention of having no sway over me makes goose bumps rise on my arm, and I don’t like the boulder of unease that now sits in the middle of my gut as I think about anyone else other than me having sway over what I do or say.
“So how do you explain your presence before us now then?” he queries, his tone skeptical.
“I can’t explain how I’m here,” I answer. “All I know is that one minute I was in a clearing in the world where I’m from, and the next minute I’m waking up in a land I’ve never seen before...with abilities that I never knew I had.”
The male with the blue and purple eyes, sitting to the left of his brother the Syta, scoots forward in his seat. “What abilities?” he asks, naked interest in his tone and unusual eyes.
The Syta’s stare narrows slightly, and then they flick briefly in the direction of his brother. I get the impression that he doesn’t like that he was just interrupted, but I’m too focused on the fact that I just won an epic staring contest to pay much attention to the undertones of sibling rivalry. I turn my attention to the familiar little brother, and then a bitch-slap of recognition finally hits me.
He’s the soldier I attacked. He’s the one who called me flower.
“You look very different from the last time I saw you,” I state, the comment half question and half exclamation.
“It wouldn’t serve for the Avowed Altern to be roaming around enemy territory without a good disguise, now would it?” he tells me, a sly half-smile turning up the corner of his mouth.
“Enemy territory?” I ask, feigning confusion.
I’m tempted to blink a lot and play with the hem of the tunic shirt I’m draped in. Maybe it will up the poor me damsel thing I’m hoping they’re buying, but I think the growling might have fucked up my chances of really pulling it off.
“Yes, Falon Solei Umbra, it seems you’ve landed yourself in what’s about to be a war zone,” the Syta announces, leaning back in his soft moss covered throne.
Do not look at Ryn. Do not look at Ryn.
“A war zone?” I repeat as if I’m some dumb broken parrot and haven’t heard all of this before.
“Don’t worry yourself about it, there’s no doubt that we’ll be victorious,” the Syta declares arrogantly as he inspects his cuticles. “Back to the matter at hand, I believe my brother asked you a question.”
Confusion takes over my face, and I rewind the conversation, trying to recall what I was asked.
“You mentioned that you had abilities here that you didn’t know you had, I wanted to know what abilities?” the blue- and purple-eyed Altern of the Avowed reminds me.
“Oh right. Yeah, I thought I was a latent wolf shifter before I woke up here. It turns out that I’m neither latent or a wolf,” I explain. I feel like a broken record going through all of this again and have to remind myself that they haven’t heard it before, only the Hidden have.
I catch a subtle hand gesture from one of the scantily clad females to the right. Bingo. Looks like I know who the seer is now. I notice the gazes of several of the other seated shifters go from her back to me. I once again admonish myself not to look at Ryn just to see if everything is going according to plan.
“So you woke up here, and you’ve just been wandering around the Amaranthine Mountains ever since?” an elderly male asks me, his milky gaze soft.
“Yes, I’ve been trying to find my way home ever since.”
I look as the female’s hand goes from a fist to flat, and just like that, everyone in the room slightly relaxes. They believe me.
“Well, Falon, I don’t know what act of fate brought you here, but now that you are, the Avowed claim you. You will now be one of us and enjoy all the protections and advantages that come with the Vow. I am Lazza, the Syta of the land and all of its inhabitants. My brother, Treno, who you’ve already met, serves as my Second and the rightful Altern. My Third and Fourth are Commander Ryn and Commander Voss.”
Ryn nods at his introduction as does another female on the right, who I wouldn’t have suspected as being a leader of any kind.
“The rest you’ll meet as you adjust here. Saner will take you to get your mark. Once that’s done, you’ll be free to make a life for yourself here,” Lazza tells me, like he’s doing me some massive favor.
It’s all so casual. Like he finds people all the time and just marks them and puts them to work. There’s no discussion, no explanation, no concern over whether or not I want this or even understand what any of it means. It’s like he expects me to fall at his feet and thank him for taking me in. Like I’ve been wandering through the mountains for days just hoping someone would claim me.
“But I don’t want a life here; I want to go home,” I interrupt, and the Syta’s bemused gaze turns just a touch colder.
“And where is home? How do you propose to get there?” he asks flatly.
“I…” I trail off, biting back that I know enough to try and wing it. “I don’t know,” I finally say, and he smiles arrogantly at me.
“We can’t have you wandering around. It’s a surprise you even made it alive as far as you did. There are savages out there in the mountains. Be grateful that we were the ones who found you and not them,” he snaps, and the room falls eerily silent once again. It’s like the water doesn’t even want to draw attention to
itself, so it hits the mute button.
“Your place is now with us...as it should be,” he adds, his aqua stare running over my tangled white hair and landing on my lavender eyes.
I see a glint of something in his gaze that I can’t quite place, and unease pools in my belly.
“Saner, please escort our guest to receive her Vow and then to her new lodgings so she can clean up.
Fear breaks open inside of me, and I look around panicked. The Vow. That’s what the Hidden have spent their existence avoiding. What did Tysa say about it? That it allows them to control you? Fuck. I can’t let that happen. I need to get out of here. I back up and slam into a herculean sized guard behind me. I try to sidestep him, but huge hands come down on my shoulders to try to pin me in place.
Terrified, I look to Ryn. Is he really going to let them do this to me? His countenance is cold and disconnected, and I just barely stop myself from screaming out to him for help as another guard steps in to subdue me. This can’t be happening. He can’t just decide to mark me and that’s that.
“Please don’t,” I shout as I’m hauled off my feet and caged in by muscled arms the size of my thighs. “Please, just let me go home! I have a life there. I don’t want to be here!” I shriek as I’m carried out of the room.
Treno, the shifter I attacked, who apparently is the second in command here, shoots to his feet like my terror-filled screams just lassoed him and yanked him out of his throne against his will. He looks pained, but I don’t know what to think of that before I’m taken away. The tall iron doors shut behind me, blocking him from view and sealing my fate.
Well, fuck that!
I fight...uselessly. I release a barrage of verbal abuses at the guard carrying me around like a sack of potatoes. I curse him, his friends, his family, and everyone’s children’s children’s children. I get a couple good eye gouges in and am halfway to ripping off his nipple when he just passes me to an even bigger guard. I shamelessly resort to biting.
