Page 17 of A Reign of Storm and Madness

My heart thuds against the prison of my ribcage. What the fuck am I doing?

Metal shrieks against metal once more, jerking my attention away from him and back to the battle going on in front of me as I stand with my back to the wall and my hands clasped against my back, waiting for whatever they might need. Not a single one of them acknowledges the flutterings of snow as the sky overhead darkens. The temperature dropped hours ago and I swear I can feel ice creeping over my boots. I glance down, but there’s nothing. Being cold will put strange feelings into your head.

Ruen releases a growl, and I lift my gaze just in time to see him bare his teeth at Kalix as his brother laughs once more and swipes his sword down, deflecting Ruen’s next thrust.

I follow the movements of their bodies with rapt attention. My own muscles stiffen and relax as I correct some of their actions in my mind. Were it me between them, were I the one fighting Kalix, I wouldn’t attempt any feints such as the ones Ruen does. Kalix isn’t that type of fighter. He’s the dangerous sort. The kind who sees so much without ever truly revealing it. I note it in the way he moves before Ruen has—avoiding thrusts and attacks before Ruen even begins them.

He’s not fighting so much as he’s predicting each of his brother’s movements. Not that Ruen is a poor fighter, he’s just not the proper counter to Kalix. It’s obvious they know too much about each other because, despite Kalix’s easy avoidance of Ruen’s attacks, the psychotic Darkhaven still finds himself on the defensive as Ruen steers him around the pseudo-ring.

“Damn it, Kalix,” Ruen curses, dodging and rolling sideways as he swings out his sword, catching his brother against the side.

A wound opens on the right of Kalix’s abdomen, the skin splitting in a thin line, and he reaches down, idly fingering the cut there. The pads of his fingers coat red with his own blood and when he pulls them away, he lifts his head. His forest-green eyes look directly at me as he slips his crimson blood-stained thumb into his mouth and licks it clean. By the time he lowers his hand back to his side, the wound has healed and all that remains are the smudges of red above his trousers.

A bell rings in the distance, the sound calling an end to the day. Ruen stands back and yanks his hand up and over his flushed face, pushing the dark strands of his ink-black hair away from his eyes. The cold has long since leached away what little warmth I had. So, when I shift against the wall, dropping my hands away from my back, little tingles attack my limbs, reminding them that they exist.

“We should get changed and cleaned for dinner,” Ruen states.

No one answers him. The heavy silence of the courtyard remains. I press my teeth together, refusing to feel guilty for the obvious tension that remains between him and his brothers. From Theos’ apology to me when he’d snuck into my bedroom, it’s clear that I’m the reason for that distance and tension.

I never asked for it though. None of it. Not Ruen’s betrayal and certainly not his brothers’ support.

I bow to the three of them. “I must take my leave,” I state. “I’m to report to the Academy library for extra duties.”

Theos frowns at me and stands from his seat. “Extra duties?” he parrots.

I nod. “I apologize for not informing you,” I say. “I thought you were already aware, but because of my actions, I’ve been informed that my schedule will double and I’ll be assisting the Terra of the Academy library.” Perhaps not only Terra, but I won’t know until those ‘others’ Dauphine mentioned make themselves known.

Kalix strides across the courtyard to the stand of weapons that had been brought out by the Terra in charge of these private courtyards and tosses his sword into the mix. It glances off the stand and knocks it over, causing the rest of the weapons to go crashing to the ground with loud, clanging noises.

“You’re our Terra,” he growls. “Your duties with us are more important.”

I press my lips together. “The subject of my ownership,” I seethe at that fucking word, hating it with every fiber of my being, “is at the discretion of the Academy.”

Kalix’s expression darkens and his jaw clenches tight. He takes a step towards me and to anyone else, it would be a threat. I don’t flinch. Instead, I tip my chin up further. Waiting. Daring him to do something. Punish me? No, he won’t.

Ruen catches his shoulder and halts him. “Of course,” Ruen says, though he doesn’t look at me.

What? I think at him. Can’t meet my gaze?

Anger sizzles in my veins. I kind of wish I’d been the one to train with him in this courtyard. Wish I’d been the one with a blade in my hand. I’d love to show him just how I feel about still being under his command. He might be acting far more courteous due to his own guilt, he might be a poor, sad, broken little Mortal God, but I don’t give a shit.

He played the game and we both lost. He’s a fucking asshole.

“I’ll be going then.” I deadpan and without another word, I turn and exit the courtyard. As soon as I’m within the corridor, more warmth enters my veins.

The complicated mess of this mission has well and truly fucked me. More than Regis, I need to get in contact with Ophelia directly. I must know if this was simply another of her tests or if there truly is a client and target. As it stands, I’ve been here months—fucking months—and there’s been no update, no progress.

Ophelia will know what to do about Dauphine’s confession. My fingers curl into fists at my sides, my nails digging little half-moons into my palms as anxiety skitters through me. She has to. I can’t think of another who would be better equipped to help me in this way.

Getting out of this debacle, out of the Mortal Gods Academy, without killing or being the cause of death for so many will surely indebt me to her further. That dream of disappearing into the Hinterlands, of giving up the life I live in the shadows, is quickly fading from the realm of possibility.

Fuck me, but sometimes I wish I was more like Ophelia. I wish I could be callous. I wish I could be as natural and talented at taking lives, at erasing my guilt as she was. Maybe then I could walk away without looking back, even if I know doing so will kill Niall and plenty of others. All of them innocent.

The Academy’s library is not a place where I’ve spent much time or any time at all beyond my initial introduction to the grounds. The Darkhavens are high enough on the Mortal God Tier hierarchy that anything they could ever need or want is more often brought to them than they’re forced to seek it out themselves. A pity, considering, as I step through the thick double doors into what is quite possibly the largest room I’ve ever seen in my life.

Rows and rows of large arching bookshelves line each wall. The scent of parchment and ink hangs in the air. Curving windows, each of them just as tall and wide as the others, line the dome ceiling. The rays of receding sunlight pour in through each of them, throwing a canopy of various colors through the stained glass over the books and down to the desks that linger between each row of shelves.

I’ve stopped at some point, staring up at the windows and into the crystalline eyes of one of the depictions etched into the glass. It reminds me of the woman from Caedmon’s office. Her sorrowful face and the darkness that surrounded her pale body as if she was a ghost encased in dozens of ravens’ wings.

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