Sundered by Fate: Dark M/M Demon Fantasy Romance, page 16
Aric extracted himself from Davin's hold, the loss of warmth immediate and jarring. He moved through the throngs of dancers and revelers, searching for any sign of Sylthris's path.
As he pushed through the crowd, snippets of conversation reached him—
"—the demons have been quiet lately. Too quiet."
"They say strange things have been happening in the forest. Lights and noises, animals acting wild—"
"It's that damned mage's fault. He's brought nothing but trouble since he came back—"
Aric's anxiety deepened with each whispered word. The anomaly. It had to be connected somehow, just like the storms and visions in Thornhaven.
And yet all he saw were smiling faces, hear only laughter and music that droned on over his own rapid heartbeat.
Aric slipped past the dancers, his heart pounding as he tried to follow where Sylthris might have gone. But before he could reach the far side of the ballroom, a group of nobles blocked his path, their eyes sharp and assessing.
"Solarian," one of them said in a clipped voice. "We were hoping to have a word."
The speaker was Lord Tavian, one of the more vocal Pureblade supporters Aric had encountered during his time in the palace. The others were familiar faces as well—Lord Marchand, Lady Elira, and a few others Aric couldn't name. Their presence sent a shiver down Aric's spine; he envisioned their disdain like a physical weight pressing down on him.
"Of course," Aric replied with a careful smile. "Though I can't imagine what we might have to discuss."
"Oh, don't be coy." Tavian gestured for Aric to join them in a nearby alcove, away from the music and chatter of the ballroom. "You're the talk of the palace these days. We've been quite curious about your . . . loyalties."
Aric forced himself to remain still even as his skin itched with anticipation. This was dangerous territory; one misstep here, and the Pureblades would have all the ammunition they needed against him.
"My loyalties are with Astaria," he said carefully. "I am a mage of the Silver Tower, sworn to protect our people from any threat."
Tavian made a dismissive noise. "That's not what we've heard." He leaned in closer, his eyes gleaming with malice. "We've heard you've been keeping rather...interesting company as of late."
Aric's heart skipped again, memories of Valerian's touch too fresh in his mind. Did they know about his dance with the Lord Regent? Or was this something else—Sylthris's shadow lingering around him wherever he went?
"I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean," Aric said, keeping his voice steady.
"Don't play games with us." Marchand's voice was rougher than Tavian's, and his stare even more unnerving. "We're aware there are those who wish to see our dear kingdom torn apart from within—and it's our job to root out all traitors and dissenters before they can do any harm."
"Is that so." Aric met Marchand's stare head-on, refusing to let himself be intimidated by whatever power play this was supposed to be. "I assure you I have no desire to harm my home—"
"I'm glad to hear it." Marchand's lips curled into an oily smile. "Because rumors have reached us that some at court may feel differently—and I'm sure we'd hate for anything unpleasant to happen on account of such divisive attitudes taking root among our leaders..."
Suddenly, a commotion erupted near the balcony. Aric rushed to investigate, pushing through the startled crowd. He discovered a nobleman collapsed on the ground, babbling incoherently about shadows and whispers.
"What's going on?" Aric demanded, kneeling beside the fallen man. "Sir, can you hear me?"
The nobleman let out a strangled cry, his eyes rolling back in his head. "The shadows . . . they're everywhere . . . Can't escape . . ."
As Aric reached out to steady him, he noticed a faint, shimmering distortion in the air nearby. His breath caught. He'd seen this before, back in Thornhaven.
A ripple of unease spread through the crowd as they noticed the distortion too. Fear and confusion painted their faces, and whispers of dark magic and assassins filled the air.
Aric knew he needed to act fast before panic set in. "Everyone, please remain calm," he said, trying to inject authority into his voice. "I'm a mage of the Silver Tower. I'll handle this."
He focused his senses on the distortion, trying to ascertain its nature. It felt like a tear in reality itself, a portal to something dark and twisted that shouldn't exist in their world.
The distortion slowly shrank and faded from view—but not before leaving behind an oily residue on the very fabric of reality itself. Aric's mind was already working furiously to determine what it could mean when someone else stepped forward through the throng of onlookers gathered around them.
"What happened here?" Lord Regent Valerian demanded, pushing through the crowd.
Aric felt himself tense involuntarily as Valerian approached; his head still spun from their earlier dance together that evening—but now there was no room left for distraction or personal feelings when something so dire was unfolding right before them all.
Valerian's blue eyes snapped over to Aric, assessing him with that same unnerving intensity as earlier in their dance.
"What do you make of this, Solarian?" he asked. "Have you ever seen anything like it before?"
Aric hesitated, then shook his head. "Nothing in this world, my lord."
Valerian's frown deepened, and he seemed to be measuring his next words carefully.
"This is a matter for the Pureblades," Cyrus announced as he and his men pushed their way forward. "Step aside."
Aric bit back a retort, but Valerian caught his arm, giving him a quick shake of his head. "Let them have their investigation," Valerian murmured. "It's better we have them distracted by shadowy threats than turning their attention back on us."
Reluctantly, Aric nodded and stepped away from the nobleman as the Pureblades began their examination.
He felt Valerian's eyes on him as he turned away.
Valerian leaned in, his breath warm against Aric's cheek. "There is much we could discuss, you and I. Matters of great import to our realm." He paused, his lips curving into a smile. "Perhaps you would join me in my private chambers later this evening, where we can speak more freely."
The invitation hung between them, laden with both political and personal undertones. Aric hesitated, unsure of the Lord Regent's true intentions. Was this merely an opportunity for Valerian to gauge Aric's allegiances? Or was there something more at play—some deeper connection that Valerian sought to explore?
"I would be honored, my lord," Aric replied finally, the words tasting sweet and dangerous on his tongue. "Though I fear I may not have the answers you seek."
Valerian's smile widened. "Oh, I'm sure you will surprise me."
Aric stood alone at the edge of the ballroom, his heart still racing from the evening's encounters. The night had been a tapestry of intrigue and danger, each thread weaving together into a pattern he could not yet decipher.
The Pureblades were gaining influence, their zealous vision of a "purified" kingdom gaining traction in the absence of a true king. Valerian's ambitions, while more subtle, were no less dangerous. And then there was the anomaly—an unknown threat that had already claimed the lives of those Aric cared about.
Aric's mind was a whirl as he pondered his next steps. He had come to Astaria seeking answers, but he was no closer to finding them than when he arrived.
Except for one thing: Valerian's secret research space. The lord regent had alluded to it more than once, and Aric's instincts told him that whatever was behind those doors held the key to understanding the anomaly's nature.
But gaining access to it would not be easy. He would need to tread carefully, avoid raising Valerian's suspicions—or Cyrus's, for that matter. And he would need to do so without drawing too much attention from his old friends at the Silver Tower.
Aric turned his gaze toward the entrance of the ballroom, where a pair of Pureblade guards stood watch. If he could find a way past them—
A chill ran through his veins, as if someone were watching him. Aric turned quickly, but saw nothing out of place among the dwindling crowd.
His steps quickened as he made his way out of the ballroom. The guards nodded to him as he passed, their eyes wary. Aric gave them a polite smile before heading down the grand staircase that led toward his quarters.
Once again, he felt that prickling sensation on the back of his neck, a cold dread blooming inside him. He glanced back over his shoulder and saw her standing in the shadows near the staircase landing: Sylthris.
Their eyes locked for a tense moment before she vanished once more into the darkness beyond sight—but not before one thought flitted unbidden through Aric's mind: Beware the shadow in the court.
Aric clenched his jaw as he continued down the corridor leading away from the ballroom and toward his suite. He would have to move quickly if he wanted any chance at reaching Valerian's hidden chamber before anyone else noticed—and perhaps learning whatever truths lay within its depths that had drawn so many close and dangerous enemies around him this night.
Thirteen
As the crescent moon hung low in the velvet sky, Aric approached the ornately carved door to Lord Regent Valerian's chambers. The echoes of music and laughter from the ball still lingered in the corridors of Astaria's palace, but here, all was quiet—a stillness that hinted at secrets hidden away from prying eyes.
Aric paused outside the door, taking a deep breath to steady himself. Valerian's words from earlier in the evening played in his mind, their double-edged meaning slicing through the layers of charm and intrigue. Was this invitation merely a ploy to gauge Aric's loyalties? Or was there something more—a genuine interest, perhaps? Aric couldn't afford to let his guard down, not when so much hinged on his gaining access to Valerian's hidden research space.
He raised his hand to knock, but before he could make contact with the door, it swung open of its own accord. Aric's heart skipped a beat, his muscles tensing instinctively.
"Ah, Solarian." Valerian's voice was smooth as silk as he appeared in the doorway, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Come in."
The chambers were every bit as opulent as Aric had imagined, yet there was a calculated precision to their arrangement that spoke of Valerian's meticulous nature. The furnishings were rich without being ostentatious—dark woods polished to a mirror sheen, upholstery in deep jewel tones that matched the lord regent's own attire. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the room's silken textures and gleaming metalwork.
But it was Valerian himself who commanded Aric's attention. He stood at the center of the room, a figure carved from shadows and moonlight, his angular features made all the sharper by the play of light and dark. Those piercing blue eyes fixed on Aric with an intensity that threatened to steal his breath away.
"Would you care for a drink?" Valerian asked, gesturing toward a sideboard where decanters of amber and ruby liquid gleamed.
Aric nodded, though he hardly needed the alcohol to heighten the feverish rush beneath his skin. "That sounds . . . perfect."
Valerian poured two glasses, the liquid sloshing with a rich, dark hue. "To unexpected opportunities," he said, handing one to Aric. As their fingers brushed, Aric felt a jolt like lightning racing up his arm.
"To opportunity." Aric's voice came out hushed, as if he were afraid to break the spell that had settled between them. He sipped the drink, savoring the sharp sweetness that danced over his tongue.
"Please, have a seat." Valerian motioned to a plush chaise that faced the fire.
Aric hesitated, aware of how close they'd be sitting. But there was a challenge in Valerian's eyes—a test, perhaps—and Aric found himself stepping toward it.
Valerian joined him, sitting close enough that their knees brushed. "I'm afraid I've monopolized far too much of your time this evening, Solarian."
Aric shook his head, the warmth of the fire and the drink loosening his reserve. "I'm enjoying our conversation. It's rare to meet someone so . . . intriguing."
Valerian chuckled, a sound like velvet over steel. "I could say the same of you."
He leaned back, studying Aric with those penetrating eyes. "You have a talent, Solarian—a gift for handling the unexpected, even when the odds seem insurmountable. I suspect it comes from the same wellspring as your magical abilities."
Aric shifted, his instincts sharpening. Valerian had seen him in action tonight, confronting the anomaly in the ballroom. Had the lord regent drawn conclusions about Aric's true nature? Or was this merely a compliment on his crisis management skills?
"It's not easy, finding one's place between such opposing forces," Valerian continued, as if reading Aric's thoughts. "But I believe you possess a rare strength, Solarian—one that our kingdom desperately needs."
There it was—the hint of Valerian's ambitions peeking through the polished façade. He spoke of political needs and alliances, of strong leadership and renewed resolve in uncertain times. All the while, those glacial blue eyes watched Aric closely, weighing his reactions.
"I sense that we are kindred spirits in some ways," Valerian said with a soft smile. "Both of us pushing at the edges of what's considered proper or possible. We should not let small-minded others dictate our destinies."
Aric swallowed, trying to ignore the heat that spread through him at Valerian's nearness. "And what destiny do you have in mind for us, my lord?"
Valerian laughed softly. "So direct. I should expect nothing less from you." He reached out, his fingertips brushing over Aric's jaw with a feather-light touch. "Tell me, Solarian—do you ever tire of the role you're expected to play? The dutiful mage, the loyal servant to others' whims?"
Aric held his gaze, though it was an effort not to lean into that touch. "My path is my own to choose," he said.
"Is it?" Valerian leaned in closer, his lips a breath away from Aric's ear. "Or have you merely convinced yourself that's true because it's easier than facing the alternative?"
Aric's heart pounded, his thoughts a tangled mess of warning and want. Valerian was right—there was a part of him that had settled for the safety of familiar roles and expectations, content to play his part in the hopes it would bring some measure of peace.
But there was also a part of him that longed for more—that craved the kind of passion and freedom that Valerian's touch promised.
"You deserve so much more," Valerian whispered, his lips brushing against Aric's skin. "And I would give it to you—a partnership like none the world has ever seen."
Aric shivered, his resolve wavering as Valerian's hand came to rest on his shoulder. His stare held Aric captive, promising a glimpse of something beyond even Aric's wildest dreams.
But even as Aric leaned toward him, drawn in by the spell Valerian was weaving, he couldn't shake the sense of danger lurking beneath those seductive words. Did Valerian see him as a potential lover, or merely a political asset to be leveraged? And what price would Aric be willing to pay for the kind of power Valerian offered?
Aric wondered if Valerian was trying to incite something within him. All those years at court with Malekith had taught him how to play the role of willing pawn—honed it into something he could even relish at times. But even with the threads of treachery and deceit binding them both, there had always been a truth there between him and Malekith, more sacred to them than any other loyalty or oath.
Could he ever hope to forge such a bond with someone like Valerian? The lord regent was ruthless, certainly, but no more so than the demon prince. And his ambition to reshape the balance of their world could dovetail with Aric's own dreams . . .
Malekith's words came back to him, the soft, sultry rumble of his voice. You think you are anything more than a pawn, Aric? A clever, useful toy? He always knew Malekith saw him that way. Aric wasn't certain whether it was worse that he had enjoyed the role he played for Malekith's delight.
Valerian wanted him for more than his cleverness, though. Valerian wanted—what? A mage to show off like his many artifacts? A warrior for their cause?
But when Aric looked into Valerian's eyes now, he thought there might be something more there.
"And what cause would that be, exactly?" Aric said. "The Pureblades seem not to think you've moved past your long-ago disagreements."
"Oh, I have not." Valerian traced a fingertip along Aric's jaw and grinned at him. "That is the fight of a generation. It is our war with the demons that is far more important now. I would settle for peace between our species and no more."
That was more than Malekith ever asked of Aric. Perhaps too much.
But if it wasn't—what choice did Aric have?
Valerian's finger stilled its stroking. His touch settled like a weight on Aric's skin. It was hard to remain unmoved by such scrutiny. He felt something hot and desperate begin to stir in his chest.
He thought about Valerian's words, the promise of a partnership. It wasn't just about power; it was about shaping the world in their own image. They could build something lasting together—a legacy that would stand the test of time.
Aric frowned as they spoke on of the possibilities. Was he seriously considering it?
Yet if he could have wished for a world without the constant threat of conflict lurking just around the corner of every day, and a way to move forward from them and expand, that might be worth some measure of uncertainty for him. The war had drained so much from both sides—lives lost, resources squandered. What might they have achieved instead, if not waging endless battle with one another? There was more to be done in Astaria alone that might transform their reality without setting foot outside the walls—
Aric blinked rapidly, then laughed softly at himself.
A wild, desperate part of Aric craved to give himself over to what Valerian was offering him now—the same way he had fallen headlong into Malekith's arms. Aric knew the hazards well enough, and yet the dangers only heightened his longing, charging the air between them.
“Vanishingly few in Astaria understand the true power of our magic. Fewer still how to wield it to best effect. But you, Aric, eclipse them all.”
