Page 101 of Of Realms and Chaos

“Could you be any more cliché?” My sardonic reply was more rhetorical than genuine, and I hoped he heard it for the insult it was. Instead of leaving me alone like I asked, he continued to follow just behind me, the sound of my stomping feet drowning out his quick steps as I tugged the quilt off the ground. I found a set of stairs and quickly began descending them, trying and failing to find an exit at the bottom.

“Yes, I think I could. Would you like me to be?” I could think of many things I wanted him to be. Like dead.

“I would like you to send me home,” I responded instead, voice not nearly as level as it needed to be.

“This could be your home. What’s mine is yours.”

I could ignore him. His arrogance was not a rock, but a feather. It could not disturb my pond.

“How do I get out of this damn castle?” Stay calm. Stay collected. Do not say words like “damn.” Do not let him win.

“Through a door I imagine.”

That was it.

On instinct, I reached beneath the quilt for my dagger, which had apparently not been confiscated while I slept, as it still rested in my sheath. I grabbed it, spinning around and embedding it into his chest. Blue blood splattered my face, his scream echoing across the hall. The glass chandelier above twinkled and clinked as it shook from the force of his fury.

His knees hit the floor, and I was momentarily forced to fight back a smile as I realized that I had taken him down twice already. Then more appropriate thoughts filled my mind, like how I was going to save the wretched emperor’s life when I had likely just stabbed his shriveled black heart.

I wrapped my fingers more tightly around the quilt as I bent down, trying to assess the damage, but Padon shoved my free hand away. I growled, smacking him in the head. “Let me look so I can help you, idiot!”

“You just stabbed me in the heart, but I’m the idiot?” He chuckled, clearly in shock. Could one die laughing? If so, he just might. Explaining that to his guards would be so fun.

Please, do not hang me. I promise, he liked it. He literally died laughing.

Oh yes, that sounded like a great plan. Then maybe I would fly away into the sunset. The two things were just as likely at this point.

“You were being annoying.” His laugh grew louder at my defensive tone, his head moving so we were eye to eye. Up close, I could see that his irises were the color of an aubergine, dark enough to appear black.

“Well, sadly for you,” he said with a smile, “I’ll live.”

Then he ripped my dagger out of his chest, that blue blood pouring down his front. The once-red top was now a deep shade of purple, quickly taking on the same hue as his hair. I started to contradict him, to explain that death was not evaded by simply willing it away, but he grabbed my hand and tugged me the opposite direction. He did not stumble, did not wince, as if he were not hurt at all.

While we walked, Padon inspected my dagger. Laughing, he looked at me over his shoulder, waving the blade. “Do you know what this says?”

“No, how would I?” I asked, ripping my hand free and crossing my arms over my chest to prevent the quilt from falling, my gaze on the wall as we walked. This male was insufferable.

“I didn’t think so. It’s an old language, one spoken by beings with extraordinary magic. They can alter time and encourage bravery and even feed on sin.”

“You can read it?” I could not hide my surprise, looking up at him as I rushed to his side. His smile widened, mischief pouring into the air. So that was how he wanted to play? Lower his stupid unbreakable mental shields so he could tease me with his thoughts? Insufferable was too kind a term for him.

“Of course I can. Do you want to know what it says?”

I wanted to say no, because why give him the satisfaction of admitting that he had something I wanted? Knowledge was power, and Padon had far too much of it. Shaking my head, I faced forward once more, my arms still crossed.

After about five seconds of remaining strong, my curiosity won out.

“If you insist on showing off, then go ahead—tell me what it says.” There was a bite to my words, but even I could not deny that I was very clearly interested. That I was eager to consume any information he could give me. I hated myself for it, almost as much as I hated him for throwing his stupid head back and laughing.

“It says, ‘I am vengeance.’”

I am vengeance. Interesting.

“Is there a reason the runes glow when I kill with it?” If I was already playing, I might as well win. Padon’s eyebrows rose, his hand softly meeting my lower back to guide me around a corner. I flinched away from him, and he let out a long-suffering sigh. As if he were the one who should be exasperated right now.

“Don’t you feel the magic imbued within it?” His question was accusatory, as if I were somehow at fault for not knowing such a thing. I snatched the dagger by the hilt, slicing his palm as I did. Served him right.

How would I know anything about the runes or the dagger when I still had no idea what my own magic was? I was going to ask that, but we arrived at wherever it was Padon had been leading me. The large archway was the same gray as everything else, bordering on silver. Through it was a bunch of seats, each covered in gray velvet. Beyond, a stage loomed, gray curtains closed to block off the stunning marble floors and whatever lay beyond.

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