Page 89 of Of Realms and Chaos

Briefly, we both stood still, absorbing what he had said. Then, without much thought, I gave the only reassurance I knew would make a difference. “She would be proud—they both would be.”

His sardonic laugh echoed through the hallway, and I quickly looked around to make sure no one was listening in. Unfazed by the possibility of eavesdroppers, Adbeel walked up to one of my paintings. The poor male had far too many to know what to do with. There were years in which I did nothing but train, eat, sleep, and paint.

This one was of The Royal City, specifically focused on the very castle we now stood in. The colors were off, duller than the real thing.

“I do not know what is worse: a dead son or a traitorous one.” There was a bite to his tone, one that hinted at whatever rage was simmering within him. The king would have much to ponder, even more to accept.

“At least a traitor still breathes, still has a chance to repent.” That earned me another full and sarcastic laugh, which I responded to with an eye roll as I closed the space between us. We both looked at the painting, which I now realized had shaky line work, while we spoke.

“And what does your fae princess think of the vengeance I took? Does she think repentance is in the cards for me?” Even without looking in my direction, it seemed Adbeel had correctly read the stiffening of my back and the squaring of my shoulders. I radiated tension, and he understood that for what it was. “I believe telling your lover that the male who raised you killed her parents is pretty important.”

“Maybe you should be the one to tell her, to explain.” A quick glance to my side showed that Adbeel was now looking at me unamusedly. “Fine. Before Pino died, he told me that you had to be there when I told Asher the truth. He said it was the only way without loss. It is hard to explain, but I have to wait. After the council, we can all three talk, I promise.”

There was far too much judgment in those black eyes, but he eventually nodded, turning to walk away with a wave. I could not help the small smile that lifted the corners of my mouth, though it was more grim than joyous. If only he knew.

“Adbeel?” I asked, the questioning tone causing him to look back. “She is going to change everything. Asher is the answer.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Asher

The temple was extraordinary. Something that looked like it should be cherished with only the eyes, as if entering would taint it. Still, we walked forward, approaching with steady confidence.

Farai’s hand was in mine, both of us marveling at the place of worship ahead. It was a towering structure, the majority of it a stunning violet color, making the small carvings in gold and black stand out. The four levels consisted of layered tiers that were shaped like pointed arches, uneven and chaotic, but beautiful all the same.

Farai, Henry, Wrath, and I had been traveling with King Trint for eleven days. Which was, to my eternal discomfort, enough time for Farai to have a complete breakdown over what had occurred at the dinner. Of course, Henry had the brilliant idea to graphically detail the many murders and instances of dismembering I had accomplished since I previously saw Farai.

My best friend who had known me for nearly two hundred years proceeded to have a panic attack. He asked what they did to me, questioned my sanity, and reminded me over and over again that I had once locked myself away for days after having to complete a public sentencing.

How could I explain to him that fighting my nature would not get us anywhere? That pretending I was not designed to dole out death was pointless? Eventually, after he teared up and told me he wanted better for me, Farai accepted that I was different. Surprisingly, I did not shed a tear during the entire conversation, instead opting to nod and apologize and promise to be better.

It was a promise I knew I would break.

Now, as we walked together and approached the Temple of the Gods, I could feel the tension radiating from him. We had all played cards and chatted idly throughout the trip, but Farai’s stress remained. He regularly asked for updates on Jasper, which forced me to admit that Bellamy was still working on a plan. Henry was confident that Farai would simply be presumed dead, but my friend did not settle. No one could blame him. Jasper was his soulmate, the love of his life, his husband. Finding him was imperative. Yet, all we could do was press on, which meant entering the looming structure and winning allies.

Up close, the carvings on the outer walls were easier to decipher. The top floor had an image of a sky full of stars. The moon was depicted on one side, the sun on the other. The third floor was the beginning of a tree, the golden leaves lush and bright. But the second floor showed the tree beginning to decay, fading to black and illustrating broken and withered roots. The final floor showed skeletal figures crawling and digging their way to the surface.

It was both stunning and horrifying.

“Ah, I forgot how deeply the mortals of this world worship my god,” Wrath said, his head grazing my hip. I looked down at him, my brows furrowed as I silently encouraged him to continue. “While the demons worship the Goddess of the Sun and Moon, the mortals worship the God of Death and Creation, as do I. This here is art crafted to symbolize him—to revere him.”

Squinting my eyes, I inspected one of the crawling skeletons. “So that god manipulates life and death for the fun of bringing back those who passed on rather than allowing them to find peace in Eternity?”

Wrath scoffed, lifting both his chin and his tail to the sky as he pranced ahead of us. I took that as a yes.

I had nothing against any of the gods, but I could not find it in me to respect them when they let chaos run rampant here on Alemthian. What kind of holy beings were they if they cared not for that which they resided over?

Trint nearly jumped out of his own skin when Wrath walked up to him, the wicked little creature smiling as his tail wrapped around the king’s leg. Even Henry laughed when Trint screamed in response. The king glared at us, swiping his hand across the shoulder of his tunic as if he could clean our humor from himself.

Today we all wore borrowed clothes, each of us sporting the teal and black of Gandry. While Henry and Farai matched Trint in their flowing teal trousers and tops with black sandals, I wore a robe-like teal dress. It covered every inch of my skin from my collar bones down, the sleeves so large they passed my fingertips. I had my dagger strapped to my bare thigh, the only weapon I could hide.

My hair was wild, the curls unruly now that it had grown so long, but I had no idea what to do with it anymore. I noted the way Trint looked at me, his eyes roaming over the locks with the type of scrutinization that made me grit my teeth in restraint. I could not fault him. I was the one who had said I needed to look the part after all.

We finally made it to the doors, the carvings full of runes that reminded me of those on my dagger. They did not glow in the same way, but the lines built upon one another, stacking and crossing to form symbols that looked so similar.

“You must behave,” the king warned as his hands reached for the gold knobs of the doors. Before he opened them, he turned his head, eyes immediately landing on me. “No smiting people who annoy you or stabbing someone because they say something about your ears.”

I gasped, my hand flying to my chest in mock outrage.

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