Page 29 of Oath-Maker

Get up, Ayla, I commanded myself.Focus. You are Ayla, Queen of Alastia. Lucius’s mate.

The fog cleared a little. I leapt through that clarity in my mind and desperately grabbed for other bits of reality. The feel of these sheets, smooth and plush. The celestials flying through the sky. The smell of a hot cereal breakfast now gone cold on the bedside table.

My stomach grumbled. The breakfast didn’t look particularly appetizing, but my body had decided it was long past time we ate. I shuffled across the bed, grabbed the bowl, and ate.

I’d seen Soltar. The world so many paladins had sworn they’d never seen or even heard much of. In fact, as I sat here eating, it was like memories unlocked and came rushing back to me, making even the idea of Soltar feel familiar. Recognizable. Comfortable, even.

As if I’d been there already and had forgotten.

“I would not hurt someone I helped make.”

My stomach dropped and a bitter taste filled my mouth. I set the cereal aside and studied the marks on my arms—the same that winded all over my body. Claiming me as a Fallen.

I hadn’t gone to Soltar. But Basara had been from that home world. The Light had too.

They’d made me. They’d crafted me like a craftsman forged a sword, and although I’d been made to wage war, I was desperate to make peace instead. To fulfill that prophecy in a different way.

Demons weren’t the enemy. I knew that now. Nothing was ever so black and white.

I waited around for another hour or so, but no one came for me. I took that as permission to move about unattended. This main room contained a bed and a small wardrobe, inside of which I found simple pants and tunics to change into. Comfortable clothing, but not the gorgeous gowns Lucius had provided for me when he’d once kept me similarly held prisoner.

There were two other doors, one tucked near the window, which led to a small but functional bathroom, and another that led outside to the corridor beyond. I assumed, at least, but hadn’t yet tested it. I wanted to scour the room first for anything I could use as a weapon that I could also keep hidden on my person, but there was nothing. Not without damaging furniture anyway, and I was more than sure that’d be noticed. Merek was careful. He always had been—except the night of his death, I supposed. But now I was beginning to wonder if that also hadn’t been orchestrated by powers more fit for Soltar than Serenia.

When I was as prepared as I could be—to face Merek, or any dangers or surprises awaiting me—I went to the door I figured led to the corridor outside and turned the knob. I allowed myself a full breath to pause and then tried to open the door. It stuck.

“What the hell?” I yanked on it again, and this time, it gave, swinging outward before being pushed against my hand again.

“Let go,” a hard voice commanded. Unfamiliar and male.

I let go and stepped back. “Who are you?”

He pulled open the door, revealing a man several inches taller than I was and outfitted head to toe in beautiful, slim-fit armor the likes of which even the higher-ranked paladins would be hard-pressed to earn. He had blue eyes and fair skin, but the hard cut of his large, square jaw—emphasized by a scowl on his lips—made him ugly. He had one hand on the pommel of his celestial sword strapped to his left hip, and the other on the door, refusing to give me even a chance of touching it again. Or at least, that was what his expression was saying.

“Traitor,” he said. I belatedly realized he wasaddressingme.

My eyes narrowed. “Asshole?”

He pushed in the room, forcing me to back up. I wasn’t used to this, not holding my own space. But this armored man was physically huge, and there was only so much ground I could hold without resorting to magic that’d likely get me tortured again. Because that was what that light sphere had been: torture. Merek had probably thought it’d bring me some sort of enlightenment along with the pain, but he’d been wrong.

There were only haunting images and pain. And fear.

Only once he was satisfied he’d properly invaded my space did this man speak again. “You may call me ‘Commander Lumen.’”

I didn’t like being cornered. Or treated like shit. Sarcasm thickly coated my voice. “I think I like ‘asshole’ better.”

Commander Lumen’s grip on his sword’s pommel tightened. “You should be executed, not pampered. You have no respect for the Order, its leaders, or your oath. Let alone yourself.” His blue eyes razed up and down my body. Disgust radiated off of him.

I blinked. “Well, I appreciate the review piece, but I don’t know that it was necessary.”

Commander Lumen’s jaw worked tightly. “I’m to bring you to the sphere once more. Make this difficult, and I will guarantee that whatever the Guardian sees in you as necessary is no longer worth it.”

I couldn’t help the smirk that grew on my lips. Men this aggressive and forward about it only had one truth: They were afraid. Or jealous. And both were equally dangerous to them and easy for others to manipulate. “Sure. I’ll go.” The sweetness in my voice didn’t betray my excitement at figuring Commander Lumen out so easily.

He grunted, paused for a moment, as if considering something, and then turned toward the door. “Follow me.”

My smirk grew into a full smile. He’d wanted to bind my hands or otherwise restrain me, but Merek must not have wanted that. All of this only backed my theory that maybe, just maybe, Merek was convinced I was much more gullible—or easily swayed—than I was. That if he’d shown me images of Soltar, that I’d just submit and join his side.

Let him believe that.

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