Page 63 of A Sword of Shadow and Deceit

“You will give me permission to leave the Academy grounds on my off day this coming weekend,” I state.

Hael’s head dips down and then jolts back up as if his skull is attached to an invisible string being plucked over and over again. “Should anyone ask,” I continue, “you decided to allow me exit and entry for this one day due to a sick relative.” He continues to nod with that glassy-eyed dull look. “You will forget this exchange ever happened and remember only that you agreed to this request.” I can’t risk him recalling the power in my voice. “Speak if you understand.”

“I understand.” Hael’s dry tone is untouched by emotion.

“Good.” I reach for a piece of paper on his desk and slide it towards him. “Write the permission and sign it.”

In jolting, puppet-like movements, Hael takes the paper from my hands. He picks up a quill and begins to write. Dark ink splotches drip along the edge of the parchment, but once he’s done, he signs the bottom before rolling the permission and sealing it with a wax circle pressed to hold it in shape.

I take it from him. “Thank you,” I say. “You may return to your duties, Mr. Hael.”

“Yes, I must return to my duties…”

I blanch as his head sways from side to side. It’ll take a few moments for compulsion to wear off and I have no plans to be around when he comes to his senses—even if he won’t remember my usage of it. Quickly returning to the door, I unlock it and step into the hallway, leaving the door as I’d found it—wide open—and head back the same way I’d come.

It takes me less time than usual to return to my room in the north tower. I cut across the courtyards used only by Mortal Gods and scale the short stone wall separating the tower from the rest of the grounds instead of climbing the outer stairs. Once inside, I hurry up the stairwell, find my own door, and slam into the room before shutting and locking myself inside.

The Euoplos dignitas is there, and it peeks one eye open curiously from where it’s resting amidst my bedsheets. A breath of relief escapes from my lips as I sag against the old solid wood. The parchment in my hand crinkles, reminding me that I’ll need to prepare for my departure in the morning. Striding to the nightstand alongside my bed, I lay the permission paper on the surface and drop down onto the creaking mattress. The second I do, however, a sharp sound of glass shattering reaches my ears, followed by a sudden and rapid thud thud thud.

My spider king shoots up onto his legs and skitters across the bed, dropping down over the side and disappearing from sight. I blow out a breath and let my head drop back on my neck as I glare up at the ceiling. The sound of furniture either scraping across the floor or being thrown shakes the wooden beams. Dust rains down and I close my eyes.

Godsdamn it. Ruen said that Theos would be drinking himself into a stupor tonight. It appears that’s not all he’s doing. I press my lips together as a roar echoes down into my room. With a groan, I collapse back against the mattress and reopen my eyes.

Above me, the sounds continue. A vicious creature screaming out their pain as they throw and destroy everything around them. Theos sounds like a petulant child, and yet, at the same time, knowing why he’s doing it gives rise to the bubble of sympathy that wells up inside of me. Cupping a hand over my face, I groan again.

No. I don’t want to fucking understand them. I don’t want to sympathize.

It doesn’t seem to matter what I want, though. The longer I lay here, listening to the pained cries in the chambers above mine, the more they seep into my head. For several long moments, I contemplate leaving to meet Regis tonight. No doubt, I could persuade Hael to rewrite the permission, though I already feel disgusting enough for using that ability.

Seconds pass and the chaotic noises coming from the Darkhavens’ chambers lessen. The violent bashing, I could understand. The breaking of glass, I could forgive even if I know I’ll be the one forced to clean it all up later. The silence that follows, though … that is just too much.

I arch up out of bed and stomp towards the door, unlocking it just as quickly as I’d locked it, and slam out into the corridor before turning and taking the stairs two steps at a time until I reach the top. Pausing outside the chamber door, I notice it’s open. Not thrown open, but cracked—allowing a mere sliver of sight into the interior. And what a sight it is.

Chairs overturned. Books and pages tossed here and there. Paintings and tapestries ripped from the stone walls. It looks as if a savage storm had ripped the place to shreds. I press one palm to the door and push lightly, frowning when it doesn’t immediately creak open. Pushing harder, I manage to get the door to open about a foot more—just enough for me to squeeze in through the opening.

Fuck. It’s worse than I thought.

I want to believe that there’s no way Ruen could have known that this would happen. Otherwise, he’s far more foolish than I originally thought when it became clear he wouldn’t be here to keep his brother company.

“Get out!” Theos’ yell is quickly followed by a book flying through the air. I dodge to the left and stand straighter. Considering that Theos is currently sitting in a chair facing away from me, I’m actually quite impressed by his keen aim.

I pick my way through the glass and broken furniture, grabbing a table—the thing that had kept me from opening the door all of the way—and setting it back onto its legs. The door shuts and though a part of me wishes I were on the other side of it, something keeps me in here.

The room’s exterior paints a path of violence and an old memory climbs up into my mind—wild and unwelcome, but there regardless. Even if I wanted to deny it, my own history refuses to allow me even that small kindness.

Theos may be hurting now. He may be angry and saddened by the loss of his friend, but once long ago … I felt the same burning rage of pain. And just like him now, I was alone then too. That, more than anything, keeps me from turning around and walking right back through the door. As if there are invisible chains wrapped around my arms and legs, I find myself walking through the destruction of the room towards him. Each step louder than the next.

Fuck me, but I do feel sorry for him. Now that I know that, there’s no running from it any further.

Chapter 28

Kiera

The bite of ice under my nails, combined with the tears that blur my vision but refuse to fall, consume me. The house I once lived in, the home I knew, burns in the near distance. A raging inferno takes it all from me as the remainder filters down through the barren trees of the woods alongside it where I lay.

I claw at the snow, struggling to get up from beneath the creature sitting on my small frame, but it’s useless. The black dog doesn’t budge. It merely growls above me and settles itself even more firmly on my back, squeezing the last vestiges of air from my lungs until I want to scream, but there’s no room for it left.

I didn’t know pain could feel like this. Before this night, pain was caused by an accidental fall. A scraped knee. A tiny cut from chopping the root vegetables Father brought home from the market too close to my skin. Never by a swarm of dark-cloaked figures in the night who broke into my home and ripped me and my father from our beds before burning our home to the ground.

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