And I still haven’t gotten the chance to make right the injustices my family perpetrated on his family.
Kaithar is the rightful heir to the Bareem Estate. I’ve long wanted to seize those lands back and return them to him, but Kaithar’s the one that convinced me to wait.
Wait until the emperor dies. Your father surely doesn’t have much time left in him. The situation in Vikur is still delicate, and I don’t want my people to suffer any more than they already have. Have patience, my brother.
Once again, Kaithar was one that tempered my impatience.
But now, my impatience is more than justified.
Recognizing my mood, Ciel offers a placating gesture. “He took your blood. That’s a start. The magic…” he gives Sylhara a wary side-eye, because Ciel has always been cautious around magic, “that resides in you will slow down the effects of the lycan curse. This poultice of Blackroot and Elfrey neutralizes the burning acid. But ultimately, he needs to go to Niize urgently. For a purification ritual.”
“Purification?” I arch one eyebrow in curiosity. I’ve never heard of such a thing.
“We’ve existed alongside the lycan for thousands of years,” Sylhara says calmly, her tone cryptic, as if she knows something incredibly important that we don’t. “In the mountains, getting bitten by a lycan isn’t unheard of. They’re the Goddess’s beasts, released from the underworld against her will. Over time, they’ve adapted to the mortal world. And we don’t seek to eliminate their magic, just harness it. Some of our warriors yet live… transformed.”
I don’t like the sound of it, but who am I to argue? “And one who undergoes this purification ritual… can go on to live normally afterwards?”
“In most cases, yes.”
I turn to Kaithar. “Do you have any concerns? Objections?”
Wearing an enigmatic expression, he shrugs. “I don’t want to turn into a yellow-eyed, frothing-at-the-mouth lunatic. I wouldn’t do that to you, Corvan. Couldn’t bear the thought of you having to be the one to put me down. I’ll go up into the mountains. It isn’t even a question.”
Around the edges of his dark irises, I can see a faint ring of golden. The lycan magic’s already starting to infiltrate his body.
My throat grows tight, turning my voice hoarse. “Then go. Don’t waste time here. The battle plans are drawn. The captains and lieutenants have their orders. And this time, the Khaturians fight alongside us.”
Kaithar chuckles softly. “Times change, eh?”
“Times change, Kaith.” I exchange a quick glance with Finley, who is perfectly composed; expectant, curious. Right now, she feels both vulnerable and volatile, with the promise of immense untapped power lurking beneath her calm surface.
My focus returns to Kaithar. I lean forward, dropping my voice so only he can hear. “I’ll end this madness once and for all. Whether it’s my father’s doing, or that of someone who seeks to usurp him, I’ll destroy them. They dared to desecrate our dead. They dared to lay their hands on my betrothed. And you’ve been gravely hurt.”
Kaithar gives me a long, appraising look. Then he nods in approval. “I can see that you’re furious, my brother, but no matter what you find in the capital, don’t ever forget what we fought for.”
It’s both a warning and a caution. Kaithar knows me too well.
I don’t say anything. Cold anger makes me silent. And part of me is afraid of what I’d do—if they harmed her.
I’m not so sure I can make any promises to Kaithar right now. “I’ll do what needs to be done. And I’ll seek out and strike at the heart of whatever’s causing the undead to rise.”
Kaithar’s expression turns solemn. “I believe Kinnivar and the guards were being controlled. There’s no way they would have betrayed you otherwise.”
At the mention of the betrayal, my anger burns ever colder. I remember Kinnivar’s strange behavior when we last met in my office. Was he already planning on betraying me, or had his mind been corrupted by dark magic?
And to think that he was the one that found my father’s message scroll.
That was genuine, though. Nobody can duplicate my father’s handwriting.
My mind spins. None of this makes sense. And I know for certain that outside of my innermost circle, I can’t trust anyone.
“Some can be infected,” Ciel says softly. “From a bite or scratch of an undead, the living can be infected, and controlled by the same one that commands the undead horde.”
That would make sense, and it would be the most reassuring explanation.
The implications are terrifying. If more of my men were to be turned…
“Make sure command and all the soldiers are aware of this,” I order. “They must wear protective attire and avoid being bitten or scratched at all costs. If an injury from an undead is to occur…”
“If your men are infected by the undead, we can attempt purification,” Sylhara says gently. “But a cure isn’t guaranteed. It depends entirely on the will of the infected individual. The only other alternative is death.”
I meet her pale-and-dark eyes. “See to it that whatever needs to be done is done.”
She offers the slightest of bows. “Your will shall be done, O’Kral.”
Her words are deferent, but there’s a warning in her wintry gaze.
Uphold your end of the bargain.
There’s always a condition. I must continue to keep the lands of the Khatur safe. The Rahavan Empire will never invade beyond the mountains again.
I glance out the window. The moon casts a silvery glow across the land. Cold seeps through the walls, overpowering the warmth from the glowing hearth.
It’s quiet.
Unnervingly so.
And I’m about to walk into a trap, with Finley by my side.
48
FINLEY
We stand high on the castle walls, watching thin clouds scud across the night sky, momentarily dampening the bright glow of the moon.
The wind whips around us.
Energy ripples through my body. It feels like sparks are dancing in my veins. I can barely hold myself together. I fear that if I lose my composure, the wild dryad magic will spill out of me in all directions, tying me down to the earth itself.
The trees sway in the wind, whispering their dark secrets to me.
Release our daughter from the prison of iron and stone, which reeks of corruption and decay. Release her. She must claim her dues. He must take it all.
And our child will come unto her own.
He must take it all? Are they talking about him? I steal a glance at Corvan, who is looking out across his lands. His expression is cold and distant, his face inhumanly flawless. He could be carved from marble right now. Since I met him, it’s almost as if… he’s changed a little. Become more unearthly, less human. I suspect that I’ve contributed to that change more than a little.
Not that I mind. Underneath it all, he’s still the same old Corvan, and his presence beside me is the most reassuring thing ever.
“Ready?” he says softly. He doesn’t need to say much more. He’s already explained it to me in detail—what to expect when we enter the Lukirian palace; the seat of all power in Rahava and the place where Corvan was raised. He’ll go straight to the emperor—his father.