The Coveted, page 26
“That won’t happen.” I placed my hand over his heart. “I know who you are. The choices you make living under the burden of the King’s oppression and evil will never define who you are. Only who he is. You’re the best man I know. You’ve sacrificed so much to be here for entirely selfless ends.”
Daelon was silent, and I couldn’t tell whether or not I’d convinced him. I only hoped my words had burrowed themselves into his mind, so that whenever he felt lost, he would remember what I saw in him.
“The tree,” he said suddenly. “I was so busy worrying that I barely questioned why Katherine’s tree had protected you like that. What was that all about? Or do you even remember?”
“Oh, I remember.” I recounted the entire interaction, except the bit about going to Amos for the map to the Akashic Records. “You knew her, right? What was she like? Do you know what happened to her?”
Daelon sighed, rubbing his temples. “It’s so hard to remember anything from that time. Not only because of how Lucius has concealed that era with such a thick, magickal fog, but also because I was so traumatized after my parents’ deaths and my abrupt entry into court life that I ended up blocking most of it out. I’ve blocked a lot of my life out.” He frowned, shaking his head slightly. “Lucius’s father, Gregory, was… cold. He was always working with the other lords, the ones that have since passed, on strategies for the so-called war. He never really trusted me, and he was really hard on Lucius. Katherine was different. She was always very quiet and thoughtful, like she was living in a world of her own creation. Her relationship with Lucius always seemed very strange, almost like he was taking care of her more than she was taking care of him. There was a tenderness there that I haven’t seen in him since.”
“Because of the abuse,” I said, remembering Katherine’s allusion to Gregory’s violence against her. It made Lucius’s rather cruel reaction to discovering a noble hitting his wife clearer. He’d seemed suddenly vulnerable, in spite of the whole pulverizing internal organs thing. I shuddered, remembering the sickening sounds that had made. Though, Lucius also once told me I reminded him of his mother because we were both weak, and then he’d threatened me with her same fate. So which version of the truth was more real?
“Oh,” Daelon said. “I didn’t know. Lucius never told me, but that makes a lot of sense. I know I must’ve spent nearly a decade with Lucius’s parents, from age seven to fifteen, I think. But I still know so little. It was like one day I was training to be Lucius’s personal bodyguard, a soldier for Gregory’s bidding, and then the next, Lucius was King, and all of the elders were just… gone. Most of what I remember was just me and Lucius… hanging out. Causing trouble. We were all each other had for a while.”
Now it was my turn to frown. I hated thinking about my Daelon and Lucius, the literal embodiment of Satan, just palling around. “Lucius was how old? Sixteen? That’s awfully young to become ruler of the entire witch realm, illegitimate or not. No wonder he still acts like an entitled teenager.”
He nodded. “I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful. As soon as I think I understand how he took the throne, all of my memories turn hazy and confusing, and it all fades away. But you have an Akashic key from Lucius’s mother now. I’m sure her side of the story will show us everything we need to know. We just need to figure out how to travel there.” He kissed my forehead, but the lump in my throat was back at the mention of what I couldn’t disclose.
I hated keeping anything from him, not after how long it took for me to understand his own lies and secrecy. Some of it, like his mental blanks when it came to fulfilling Lucius’s little missions, was still hanging over us.
I forced a smile and looked up at him. “One key from Katherine and one key from that servant. We’re so close. I can feel it. So close to all the answers. So close to freedom.” These psychic keys would apparently keep me from getting lost in the Akashic by showing me the exact moments in history I needed to uncover. I remembered the way Lucius had murdered the woman who gave me the first key, and my smile quickly turned back into a grimace.
Daelon nodded again, and in that moment, I could tell that neither of us truly believed those words, even as we let them cocoon us in a fortress of blinding hope and the kind of love imbued with grit and defiance. Like a wildflower that found a way to root, sprout, and shoot up between concrete cracks in the pavement, Daelon and I had claimed a space in this life that was just for us.
Chapter 2
“You look like shit.”
“Good to see you too, Taryn,” I muttered, watching as she let herself into my chambers and plopped down on a tall white chair across from me. I was glad to finally be out of the infirmary and in my own space again.
I was sprawled out on the emerald green couch reading an ancient book of myths called The Lost Witches of Aradia. It was soothing to understand more about this culture, long before Lucius had arrived on the scene. Similar to stories back on Earth, they mentioned faeries, dragons, and shapeshifters; heroes, mentors, riddles, and quests; ancient races of witches that were now extinct or hidden; and many more fantastical creatures and places. On Earth it seemed obvious that these kinds of elements were all fiction, but in the witch realm I wasn’t so sure.
Right now I was reading a story about forbidden love between men from rival covens who were seemingly too different to get along, only to realize that they weren’t so different after all. In these tales, conflict between covens was met with disaster, while peace, unity, and understanding were met with rewards from the gods, spirits, and ancestors. What struck me the most about these stories was the reverence for everything in the natural world. Each blade of grass, each tree, each stone, and each gust of wind was treated as family. Everything in Aradia was not only an expression of magick, but also of sacred love and connection—between witches, the world, and the Divine.
This ethos seemed as fabled as dragons under Lucius’s reign.
“My tutor made me read that book when I was like twelve. Interesting, but the old ass writing made it so very boring. I’m pretty sure Lucius banned it from the Kingdom, actually. Not sure how you found one that isn’t ash.” She brushed her long, near-black hair behind her shoulders, her fierce green eyes regarding me in a way that was juxtaposed with the timid, conflicted energy that rippled out all around her. She wore a flowy, purple dress with a plunging neckline that cinched around her waist, giving her the classic sexy warrior goddess look she always aimed for.
I closed The Lost Witches of Aradia, and I made a mental note to hide it back behind the other books on the shelf where I’d found it. Of course Lucius the dictator would burn books that revered the old ways that had sustained peace for thousands of years. I knew from my anthropology studies back on Earth that some of the first people killed in war and conquest were the historians and the storytellers. Nothing dislocated and weakened a people more than erasing their entire sense of cultural identity.
I shook my head to bring myself back to the present moment. “I think you saved my life,” I said, remembering the way Taryn tackled Nathaniel to the ground after he’d ripped the blade from my stomach.
“You think?”
“Thank you,” I blurted.
I had missed Taryn, even more than I’d expected. But I knew she needed space to unpack her newfound connection to my power and the visions it had given her about her homeland and the real parents she was stolen from by cruel castle elites.
I raised a brow. “Didn’t care to see whether I’d survived?” I tried to sound humored, but I knew it came out as a lot more hurt, which was how I really felt about her radio silence since that day.
She looked down at her lap, her air of forced aloofness wavering. “I don’t… I can’t see people like that. In pain. Dying. It’s just not my thing.”
“I don’t think it’s anybody’s thing,” I laughed. “Well, except for…” I trailed off, unsure of where she stood now on the whole Lucius-is-evil thing.
She ignored the comment and shrugged. “Besides, I knew you’d survive. How else could you continue to ruin my life?”
I grimaced, searching her eyes even as she avoided looking in my direction. “You really think that I’ve ruined your life?”
“Yes,” she hissed. And then said a less sure, “Maybe. No. I don’t know. I’m just scared, okay?”
“I am too. I’m scared every day,” I said. “Before I came here, I had to leave my best friends in the human realm behind. You have no idea how much I needed a friend when I got here, and you were the best I could’ve asked for—my only friend in the castle, actually—and I’ve missed you.” I felt a pang of sadness in my chest thinking about Steph, Rena, and Nick. We’d spent a magical five years together in New York City, where they taught me that I was worthy of love and community again after I’d been forced into a difficult existence in foster care for the second half of my childhood.
After I’d witnessed my mothers’ murders at the hands of men sent by Lucius.
Taryn blew out a long breath while tapping her fingers wildly on her knee. “That’s kind of sad. But also kind of sweet, I guess. Maybe you’d have more friends if you didn’t… act the way you do. Though I’m sure you’ll have plenty now that everyone knows about your power.” Her tone was bitter now, and the mild flames of jealousy in her aura nearly made me smile. Underneath her anger and confusion lay something else entirely—she wanted me back as much as I wanted her, and her distaste for many of the other elites mirrored my own. That was what first drew me to her.
“I don’t want to be friends with any of them,” I said quietly, watching her closely as my words melted away her defenses.
She pressed her lips firmly together as the hardness of her edges finally softened. “I’ve missed you too,” she offered. “And my newfound strength isn’t exactly the worst thing in the world. I still can’t believe I was able to take on Nathaniel like that.” Her eyes glimmered and lit up before dimming again. “I just need more time to process.”
“I understand. When you’re ready, we can talk. I have something I think you’ll want to see.” Maybe the secret coven of servants could help Taryn feel more at ease with everything. She shouldn’t have had to face this all on her own.
She failed to hide her curiosity, but when I said nothing more, she stood and straightened out her dress. “I’m glad you’re alive. Actually, I think a lot more people than you realize are glad for it.”
I let out a breath, feeling surprisingly unburdened as I watched her leave.
A pair of guards escorted me to Lucius’s chambers in the afternoon. It was an unwelcomed summons, but I took the opportunity to glance around his rooms for any sign of a witch he’d raised from the dead.
Instead, his lavish yet impersonal chambers were clear of any indication that anyone lived here at all.
“Now that you’re healed,” Lucius said as I stood before him, “Mrs. Violette here can erase the scar. She can actually fix all manner of flaws and imperfections, so feel free to use her at your will. The ladies sure seem to.”
I looked from him to Mrs. Violette. She was the woman whose abusive husband Lucius brutally murdered the night of the winter ball. Her skin was olive-toned and her dark hair curly around her heart-shaped face. She had a tall, slender frame, with calm, brown eyes and a widow’s peak. Her features were fierce and beautiful.
“I think just the scar will do,” I said, raising a brow at Lucius. Her gift would make her millions of dollars in the human realm.
“Lay down,” he ordered, gesturing to reclined brown leather chair in the living area. A grand fireplace stood front and center, flanked by two closed doors beyond. Across the room were tall windows overlooking the gardens and a bookcase that appeared dusty and untouched.
I bristled at his command. “Are you still going to order me around like this when we are so-called equals?”
Lucius narrowed his eyes, but after a few beats he just shrugged. “I doubt I’ll need to.” The corners of lips turned up, and a chill ran down my spine.
“You can call me Mary,” Mrs. Violette said nervously, stepping out from behind the King. I could tell the day we met weighed heavy on her mind, and I wondered how she was dealing with the aftermath of Lucius murdering her violent husband. I didn’t know her well enough to ask, so I politely pretended we were meeting for the first time.
“I’m Áine,” I said with a smile. “You’re basically a witchy beautician? I’ve never heard of such a gift.”
She chuckled, uncomfortable, and her eyes widened as if I’d surprised her. “I think this is more in line with what my magick was meant to do for people,” she said carefully. She glanced at Lucius before moving to my side, silently asking for my permission as she began to lift the hem of my blouse.
I tried my best to ignore Lucius’s presence as my midsection lay exposed. The thick, reddish scar ran across my skin in jagged lines. I focused on Mary’s cool touch, the magickal frequency of mending and manifestation seeping through her fingers and into my skin. She whispered directions to my body, guiding it to rebuild what was lost, and soon the line glowed with her magick and began to fade into the smooth surface it once was.
“See?” Lucius clasped his hands together. “I take care of people who are on my side, dear Áine. And if you continue to cooperate and claim the gift of queenship, you will have everything you could ever desire.”
I bit back a grimace, pulling my blouse back down after Mary finished. If I became Queen, I knew I would never have any of the things I truly desired, and it was foolish of Lucius to think I felt otherwise.
He stepped forward, his sickening energy reaching toward me like a thick black smoke.
“Why am I not hearing words of gratitude for your King?” he asked, his arms crossed in judgement.
“Thank you,” I forced out, before he could seal my airways.
His eyes held mine as he spoke to a very shocked Mary beside us. “You’re dismissed,” he said without even the slightest nod in her direction. But then with a slow turn of his head, he looked at her. “And not a word of anything I’ve said to anyone.”
“Of course, my King,” she said quickly, then scurried away.
When he turned back to me, I sat up, feeling the scrutiny of his gaze.
“Why don’t you fight back anymore? Our relationship was more fun that way,” he challenged, danger marring his sharp features and swimming in his piercing blue eyes.
“Why? So you can pull another Darth Vader and get off on my lack of oxygen? It’s not worth it anymore,” I said, rising to my feet.
“Am I supposed to know who that is?” Lucius raised a brow. “I must admit I was… harsh,” he continued. “But that was before I knew just how weak your magick was in comparison to mine, and before I realized how little knowledge of the truth you held in that little head of yours.” He stepped closer again, only a foot of distance between us as he stared down at me. “By all means, be honest. That’s what I would expect from my Queen.”
“You don’t want honesty,” I dared, my power coming to life all around me. I was finally recharged from the fight and the injury, and this magick sensed when I needed it.
“I know you don’t want to be Queen, though I can’t for the life of me figure out why. Do you still genuinely believe in those cute little revenge fantasies? That you somehow have a greater purpose? Maybe even that you can defeat me and take the throne for yourself?” He took another step forward, watching me carefully as I took a small step back. His eyes shifted from mine down the length of my body almost too quickly for me to notice.
“Of course I don’t want to be your Queen. I don’t want to be your anything. You murdered my mothers in front of me, first of—”
“I did no such thing,” he snapped. “The guards I inherited from my father, rest in eternal torment, did that, and they’ve since met his same fate. Your heretic mothers wouldn’t have died if they had merely turned you over to me in the first place. Instead, they refused to recognize my legitimacy and dug their own graves.”
White hot fire thickened in my blood, sending tingles of electricity to my clenched fists. Voices from the great beyond whispered their tales of Lucius’s cruelty, egging me on and fortifying me with unbridled strength. He had me backed against the wall, the fireplace beside us suddenly roaring to life.
He laughed, and it was a boyish, nearly playful sound, like we were just a pair of friends teasing each other. “Aw, you really do think you stand a chance against me, don’t you? I can see the truth written all over your face, every day. Like you believe yourself to be some kind of pious chosen one, sent here to be everyone’s savior from the cruel, tyrant king.” He shot me a mocking look of sadness with a pouted lip, and then he leaned his hand against the wall next to my face. He smiled when I flinched. “Isn’t that so?”
I tried to steady my breathing, hyper-aware of his every movement, his body now ensnaring mine like a predator. “I don’t want to rule over a kingdom built upon a dungeon full of tortured witches, not to mention the literal slave labor that sustains this castle.”
His patience for my honesty already seemed to wane, his smile fading into a sharp warning glare. “It’s service not slavery. We’re not barbaric human filth,” he spat, seemingly struggling to contain his own anger as his features contorted and then softened. “Do you have any idea the conditions of this place before I was King? How my father and his lesser men treated women? The kinds of things they supported and believed? They wanted to create a world of human-like traditionalism, rife with nonsensical power structures and an oppressive rule sustained by fear. They were planting traditions of inequality and oppression in replace of the old ways, not the freedom, egalitarianism, and mutual respect I have fostered in my castle and cities.”
It hadn’t seemed like freedom when I watched Seraphina—the woman from my coven who’d lived in a nearby city—get dragged off by some kind of official for accusations of heresy. She was thrown in the dungeons below this very castle to be tortured alongside countless others. Nor did keeping all the elites in a constant state of ignorance and elixir-fueled hedonistic pleasure seem like mutual respect. However, the things he said about the elders he overthrew gave me pause, even as I doubted the truth behind anything that came from his mouth. It seemed to align with what Sebastian had once told me about his parents, and Taryn about hers—that the old had to be cleared out to make way for the new—and that whatever culture of rule these former oligarchs had instilled was somehow worse than Lucius’s. I hoped whatever I saw in the Akashic would finally clear up this muddled witch history.
