Page 12 of Feathers and Thorns

He paced over the carpet in the living room. He had switched it out years ago, not wanting to be reminded of all the ways he and Celandine has christened it.

Something in his chest twinged, and he shook away the rogue thoughts. It had been over twenty years since she had broken their mating bond, and the only warm part of him had remained hollow ever since.

In all his years, she had been the only being he had ever grown to truly care for. Then her betrayal had only solidified that he was better off on his own. He would not make that mistake again. He was all he ever needed, and he preferred it that way. General Corvus was a trusted companion, but if he were to meet his end, Adriel would not mourn.

He had allowed himself one day to grieve the loss of his mate as he’d followed her to Entheas in search of the Oculus. He had assumed she had succumbed to the loss of her grace and had returned to Anistera after his initial search had come up dry. Day after day, he would send his ranks to hunt for the artifact, and even the beast of a horse, Obsidian, but his efforts had been unsuccessful. The creature had been tied to her life force, and he’d been happy to be rid of it, but that had still left him without the other half of the Oculus. He’d searched high and low for five years, chasing after rumors and hearsay when he’d finally stumbled onto Tarak Nightsong’s property.

Celandine has been displaced during her fall and had not landed in the great stone reef of the Esinian Isles, as she usually would. The reef held secondary gates, inaccessible to humans, that opened up in hidden points in each territory’s capital. A thoughtful invention from the previous Architect to allow for ease of travel in their limited time. Instead, he’d discovered she had been holed up in a handmade hovel on the outskirts of Vreburn on the mainland.

Adriel’s fists clenched so hard that he cracked the arms of the chair he had sunk into at the memory.

When traveling through Estelar, he had heard a rumor of an archaeologist who had visited the great Tree City, speaking of a woman with Celandine’s physique. He’d spoken fondly of her, as if they were more than acquaintances.

Adriel had acquired the information from a strange woman with white tattoos. She’d revealed little and had left immediately after their meeting, fearing him. He couldn’t blame her. He’d let her live, if only for the entertainment of what stories she would spin upon future visits.

Seers were curious creatures and one of the few beings on Entheas whom he didn’t want to constantly murder.

He’d found himself in the city of Vreburn, at a disgusting excuse for a tavern called The Crow’s Nest. There, he had been able to gain information from a handsome council leader, who went by the name of Montgrove. He reminded him of himself, and the man was more than happy to share many personal details about the archaeologist. It seemed he had taken no time in learning about this stranger who lived in the middle of the woods.

Adriel followed the path out of town, directing himself toward the mysterious outlier. He let out a sigh of annoyance as a chill spread over his body. He hated the seasons here. One minute, he required a jacket, and the next, a thick layer of sweat would gather under his leathers. He was in a constant state of discomfort, which only gave him more of a reason to get this meeting over with. It had taken months to get to this point, and he only had a few hours left before he was to return home.

As he drew closer to the dwelling, he could hear voices. One was from a man—presumably the elusive archaeologist—but the other was female and decidedly young, a child. He hated humans as a whole, but most of all, he hated children. Mated pairs in Anistera bore children, but they grew up within days, not years, so the annoyance was bearable. In Entheas, they endured the misery for what felt like eons, and Adriel loathed the puny, helpless creatures.

The tiny human bounded out the back door, her father close behind. She was carrying a metal watering can toward a bed of purple irises. Celandine’s favorite, he thought idly. The unlikely coincidence halted his movements.

The man was obviously the girl’s father, as they shared the same deep brown hair. She giggled as he tickled her side, causing her to slosh water onto her feet. She had been facing away from him, but the movement caused her to turn her head in Adriel’s direction. His mind stirred.

It’s not possible.

There was no mistaking it. The girl’s face was a miniature copy of his late mate’s, and his breath caught.

His shock was quickly replaced with fury as he realized the human man had procreated with his mate. He was seconds away from rushing the stranger and flaying every bit of flesh that had grazed his mate’s skin before burying his body under the flowerbed.

His chest heaved, and he vibrated with the effort not to kill the man. If I kill him, I may never find the Oculus, he reasoned with himself.

A sudden movement from the corner of his eye had him turning. A black squirrel scurried up the trunk of the large cedar tree to his left, breaking him out of his rage spiral. What a useless animal. He rolled the tension from his shoulders and reverted his eyes back to the young girl. She was closer to him now, maybe fifty feet away.

A breath escaped him as an invisible thread in his chest gave a hard tug on his long cold heart. A whisper of the bond he shared with Celandine reignited. It was infinitesimally small but enough to spark a larger fire within him.

The girl shares her blood. He had never placed much thought into the human idea of luck. He assumed it to be something weaker men prayed for when times were dark. However, in that particular instance, he had to admit that favor had been well and truly placed upon him.

* * *

He had come up with the plan to destroy Entheas that same evening. He watched his mate’s lover mourn her while the child was not looking. He prayed to the Architect that they would meet again, that they would be granted the same love the phoenix had shown the couple in the stars.

Adriel scoffed openly while Tarak sobbed. Foolish man. Do not worry; your suffering will end soon.

For, you see, Adriel already had the most important piece in his arsenal—Rook. The child he had never wanted, a bastard born to a bar wench from a small town in Southern Estelar. Rook had been alive not one traverse of the skies before he had been thrown to the wolves, so to speak. Adriel had not visited Entheas in nearly seven months, a blink in his timeline. When he had finally returned, he’d felt a magical pull leading him to a heavily wooded area outside the capital of Draestel.

He came upon a weaved wooden basket sitting in the woods. The cries coming from beneath the lid nearly drove him to slice of his own ears. Nevertheless, the tether drove him forward, and upon lifting the lid, he discovered an infant boy with hair so white it was as if all the pigment had been stolen away. There was no mistaking that this was his son.

He cursed himself for not being more careful. The child was an abomination. Bedding a human was of no consequence to him, but to create a child with one filled his body with disgust.

Before he could rid the world of his unwanted bastard, he made a discovery. In the mere moments he contemplated how to end the weakling’s life, the umbilical cord had fallen off, the wound already healed. The puffiness surrounding his face and his misshapen head were suddenly morphed into a round, sweet face with piercing blue eyes, just like his own.

You should not mistake his hesitation for a change of heart. He did not want this child, and clearly, neither did the mother, but he needed to be sure he wasn’t making a mistake by ridding himself of the burden too soon.

He slid his rapier from the side of his hip and, with a swift woosh of air, he nicked the child’s shoulder. The inch-long cut was deep enough to require stitches but, to his surprise, the infant only cried for a short period before the wound healed itself.

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