Page 128 of Of Realms and Chaos

“We do not. My god wants her, and he will come. All we can do is fight against him.”

No. No more war and battle. We would not make another enemy, not find another reason to kill and plot. There were enough pieces on the board, adding more would not be acceptable. So, I did what I had been taught. I pushed all the difficult feelings down, down, down, hiding them away and promising myself I would do anything other than let myself fall apart again.

“Let him try to take me. I will not be forced anywhere ever again. Padon and his minions—sorry, Wrathy, not you—are of little importance. I am learning, and I will adapt to this. We need to focus on the task at hand, which is Xalie.” With that, I threw myself off the bed, passing by a still-pacing Bellamy and grabbing the gown that I had hung on one of only two hooks.

Slipping it on, I thought of what on Alemthian we would say to the king and queen. It was not like Gandry or Behman or even Maliha. All I could offer other than trade was peace after war, death as payment for life. It was not a promising proposal.

My skin tingled where I had been cut, but as I slid my arm into the sleeve, I still noted no scar or mark. Like it had never happened. Yanking the sleeve onto my shoulder, I closed my eyes, told myself to move forward, and then walked to the mirror to inspect myself.

It was simple in comparison to what I was normally dressed in, the same deep orange as the color of the Xalie sigil. The sleeves were large and flowy down to the wrist where a ribbon cinched them tight. The square neckline ended just below my collar bones, the hem of the dress tickling my ankles.

In the mirror, I noticed my dagger, still lodged into the wall. Above it, in dripping black liquid, a message was written.

A pretty name for a pretty Gift.

Whipping my head around, I found the wall bare with not a mark to be seen. I searched the room, catching sight of the dagger where it still lay atop the bedside table. Bellamy’s pacing stopped, his gaze locking on me.

“Ash? What is it?” All I could do was answer with a shake of my head, turning back to the mirror. I breathed deeply, looking at my face, which was—thankfully—far less terrified than my inner turmoil warranted. In fact, I looked almost…pleased.

And then my reflection smiled back at me, jumping out of the mirror with a bone-chilling hiss. I screamed, rearing back, trying to escape its grasp. Wrath was there, his jaw growing as he latched onto the fetch’s neck. She screamed in agony, writhing in his clutch as he bit down.

Bellamy grabbed onto me, forcing his body in front of mine. But she looked at me as if she could see through him, her smile—my smile—once more eerily large. With a wink, she disappeared, leaving the three of us gasping for air and frantically looking around the small room. Wrath was practically vibrating with rage, his beautiful gray fur coated in the black blood.

“Wrath, she said her blood is poison!” I shouted, trying to run to him. Bellamy did not let go of me, his arms wrapping so tightly around my waist that I felt suffocated by the security of it. “Let me go! We need to clean him! It will kill him!”

“Calm down, Strange One,” Wrath ordered. “All beings crafted by our god are the same. What comes from her cannot poison me, as it is mine. Though hers seems exceptionally foul.”

Bellamy released me, his large hands moving to grip my biceps as he turned me and held my head against his chest. Pressing his lips to my hair, he attempted to soothe me with his lulling voice. “It is okay. She had to be lying. That blood looked just like the afriktor’s, and it did not hurt us in the forest.”

“Well, the creatures within the forest are diluted versions of what was. When the fallen goddess locked them away, she ensured they would not only remain within those wards, but that their magic—their very essence that tied them to her once lover—was weakened. I myself escaped her only narrowly.” Wrath was nonchalant with his words as he flicked his grime-soaked paw, a hiss following after it splashed onto his mouth.

“Wait, what do you mean that—” Bellamy had little time to speak before he was cut off by the dalistori.

“We will talk of histories forgotten another time. Go to the mortal rulers.” With that, he shrunk back down to his normal size, padding his way to the bathing room. He stopped at the door, looking over at us. “Be safe and do not let her out of your sight, princeling.”

With a curt nod, Bellamy quickly turned me around, tying the ribbons at my back before placing a hasty kiss on my shoulder and moving to get himself ready. I watched silently, trying to calm myself enough to resume the confident air I had exuded minutes ago.

It was never going to stop. There would be no end to this madness. Even if we won this ridiculous and disgusting war, Padon would still be there, waiting for his next chance. Maybe he warned me to try to trick me into believing he wanted me safe. Or maybe he had unknowingly sent the thing. Either way, I would need to solve this problem too.

Apparently, I not only carried the world but the fucking universe as well.

“Okay, we need to go, Princess.” Like a balm on a wound, Bellamy’s voice tamed my tragic thoughts, offering the smallest semblance of refuge. He could help me hold the weight of it all. I had to trust that. Together, we could do this.

And maybe, just maybe, we would both live to see the world after.

I nodded, walking into his outstretched arms. His embrace was everything it had always been, warm and sunny, a sort of homecoming. When we portaled away, it did not hurt because, in his arms, I could weather anything.

I breathed him in once more, trying to memorize the smell of cinnamon and smoke that always clung to him—like a crisp autumn day beside a fire. He stiffened, as if what I had done appalled him in some way. Leaning my head back, I assessed his face, following his gaze until I caught sight of what had left him so angry.

From atop the hill, we had the perfect view of a line of guards in front of the castle walls beyond, all clad in the beige and orange of Xalie. I freed my magic, waves of it crashing into the unmoving shore of guards. Their thoughts flittered my way, like loose shells slowly being sucked out into the sea. Though I could not understand the words they said, I could make out the images clearly enough.

“They are waiting for us. Samell and Prie received a threat from Mia and Xavier. They no longer wish to see us.” My voice was hollow, empty of all emotion. The guards did not feel me there, but they saw us, their thoughts ranging from terror to worship—some considering falling to their knees. A few felt as though their loyalty to the gods outweighed that of their obligations to their rulers, what was above coming before what was below.

Even those who prepared to kill us both, who thought me an abomination that needed to be eradicated, still felt the weight of what I could do, images of those thoughts bombarding me. Regardless, I knew I could make them let me in without lifting a finger. I could force the king and queen to pledge themselves to our cause. There was a part of me that wanted to because this defeat was too great. It meant we would likely lose any chance with Yrassa.

Still, I grabbed Bellamy’s arm as he moved forward, a deep growl emanating from within his chest. He felt all I could not, and I wanted so badly to let him move onward, to watch as he solved this problem. But I could not, and neither could he. We both knew what it was to be forced into a fight, a life, that we did not ask for. We could not do the same.

Our eyes met, his pale skin flushed from the cold of winter. Snow fell lazily from above, intricate and tiny flakes of it decorating his dark waves. As always, his hair was disheveled, and I could not stop myself from reaching up to run my fingers through it. A contented hum filled the air as he closed his eyes and leaned his head into the touch.

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