Page 30 of A Reign of Storm and Madness

Leaving for a job. Be back by the end of the week. No further word on C’s arrival. — R

My fingers feel numb as I let the paper drop to my nightstand and sag onto the rickety cot. The springs beneath squeal with age and I swear the smell of rust rises from under the bed. I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. Just when I got Ruen to agree to help me, Regis sends a message that he won’t even be available.

“Damn it,” I curse under my breath. I really must have fucked someone over in a past life—it’s the only explanation I can think of for my terrible luck in this one. The dull throbbing ache at my temples that has been coming and going over the past few weeks now resurfaces, and no matter how hard I tighten my fingers against the bridge of my nose between my eyes, it doesn’t ease.

I give up and let my hand drop. If Regis sent a note about his mission then that means he won’t be in Riviere until his timeline comes to an end. I’m more surprised that he put an end to his mission in the note. He knows as well as I do that they can often take a wild turn that ends up lasting for weeks or even months. Exhibit A being my current predicament. Hopefully, his words mean that it’s not a kill job and perhaps something else. I envy him for his ability to come and go as he pleases when I’m stuck here.

Regardless, I hop off the bed and grab a small blank scroll from my bag. I scribble out a note in response to his, letting him know I need to meet with him in person as soon as possible and to let me know when he gets back. I return to the open window and use the same leather band to tie it to his bird after setting the earlier note on fire and letting the ashes drop to the metal bottom of the candle holder on my nightstand. A quick stroke of the animal’s wings sends it flying off, sailing first over the ocean’s waves that clear the cliffs beyond before it circles back and disappears entirely from view, heading in the direction of Riviere’s city proper.

With any luck, by this time next week, Regis and I will be face to face and he can help me get a message to Ophelia about the new complications of my current mission. I’m relieved, at least, to know that Carcel has yet to arrive. I dread seeing him even more than I do informing Ophelia of just how royally I’ve fucked up.

Scrubbing a hand down my face, I move over to the bowl of water I keep on my nightstand now and use it to wash my face clean of the oil and sweat of sleep. A light tingling sensation alerts me to a small intruder before I see my precious spider king peek its head out from beneath my bed. Stepping to the side to avoid crushing the creature, I give it space to skitter around my feet.

“I really should give you a name, shouldn’t I?” I say absently as I pat my face dry and then pull my braid free, unraveling the strands as I finger comb the knots free.

The Euoplos Dignitas merely climbs up to the ledge of my window and stares back at me. “What would I even call you?” I ask it curiously, not really expecting an answer. Spiders, after all, don’t have names like people do. Not to each other at least. “I haven’t named a spider since my first familiars.” And unfortunately, I’d not yet known that the average lifespan of most spiders is a year. My spider king, however, may live for a few decades if things turn out well.

The sensation of the spider’s response flits through my head. I don’t hear the creature’s thoughts so much as sense its emotions. Right now, it seems quite interested in my words, though a bit confused by them. As if it doesn’t know what I mean by offering to give it a ‘name.’

Reaching out, I pat a finger over the top of the spider’s back, avoiding the eight black eyes that gaze up at me. “I’ll think about it and get back to you,” I promise before turning away to finish getting ready.

Less than a half hour later, I’m dressed in the black uniform that has the other Terra either gawking or running from me. I lock the door behind me as I head for the stairs, pausing when I see a shadow of a figure standing at the top. Coldness washes over me as I meet Kalix’s stare and the small smile on his face. A moment passes, but he says nothing. Unease drifts over the back of my neck.

“Good morning, Master Kalix,” I say politely, keeping my eyes locked with his as one might a dangerous predator that has found its prey in you.

He tilts his head to the side. “Yes, I suppose it is,” he replies. “Do you know what today is?”

I blink at him. Was today some important day?

“No?” I rack my brain for information, trying to recall every minuscule detail of the Darkhavens’ routines. It’s been at least three weeks now since my punishment and though it feels as though the battles have long been forgotten, surely there can’t be another one happening today. I haven’t heard any bells ring.

Kalix holds out a hand with a cat-that-ate-the-canary smile gracing his beautiful lips, gesturing me forward. “Come,” he says. “You’ll see.”

“Why does that sound like a threat?” The question leaves my lips before I can think better of it. Damn it. I’ve spent far too much time with the three of them. I’m growing comfortable and that’s never a good thing. Comfortable means easy and easy means dead.

Kalix’s smile only grows as he continues to hold his hand out for me to take. There’s little other choice for me here, so I stride the last few steps that it takes for me to get to him and offer my hand in return. His fingers close over mine, warm and strong. It’s a pretense, I know.

Of all the Darkhavens to fear, Kalix is at the top of the list. Not because his powers are somehow more unstable or stronger than his brothers’, but because of his personality. Every time I look into his eyes, I wonder just what kind of creature lies in the deadened void that echoes beyond them.

Trepidation has never really served me well, but I feel it now as Kalix pulls me behind him, leading me up the stairs to the open door of the Darkhavens’ chambers. My lips part in shock as I see not one, not two, but three elder Terra running around inside the main room. Their arms are full of fabrics and sweat clings to their brows as they rush between bedrooms. A few headless mannequins have been stationed before the big hearth in the main room and on each of them is a suit made of the finest fabrics. One of a deep indigo, one of a violent red, and another that is darker than the midnight sky itself.

“What…” My question drifts off as I slip my hand from Kalix’s and a snarling Ruen stomps out of his room with a thunderous expression on his face.

He points a finger at Kalix, completely ignoring me as rage seems to sink into each of his features. “You could have fucking reminded us that the Day of Descendance was coming up,” he bites out.

Kalix shrugs, unbothered by his brother’s anger, and slides me an amused glance before returning his attention to the scarred and practically vibrating Darkhaven. Ruen doesn’t even look at me as he shoves his hands through his hair and one of the elder Terra skirts around him with a length of lined tape.

The Terra’s face is pinched as his lips pull down when he is forced to follow Ruen as he spins and stomps back to his room, the tape held up to measure the width of his shoulders. He stops when the door gets shut in his face with a resounding bang.

It’s the Day of Descendance. Holy shit. I hadn’t even thought about how the Academies would celebrate these Divine holidays. In the past, I’d never celebrated them myself. Only passed through towns as festivals had been set up and lights had been strung to perform the act of respect to the treasures of the universe for having come into our mortal realm to rule us all.

I turn wide, horrified eyes on Kalix and then look past him as Theos walks out of his own room, half-dressed as his trousers sag against the hip dips set very low on his abdomen. A very light, barely noticeable streak of pale hair leads down into the trousers right where his cock rests. I gulp down a breath.

“What does this mean?” I ask a little dryly.

Theos doesn’t look nearly as amused as Kalix, nor does he look particularly enraged by the disruption to their morning like Ruen. “There’s to be a party,” Theos states coldly. “With everything…” He drifts off, gesturing around. I get what he means. Darius’ death. The imprisonment. My punishment. Healing. Trying to get back to normal. It must have slipped their minds and it was never truly important in mine. “We lost track of the days,” he finishes with a sigh.

I want to ask why the hell no one had told me, but then I remember, no Terra has had the nerve to approach me in weeks. The only one had been Niall and he no doubt hadn’t even thought to warn me since he’s likely under the impression that everyone knows about these things. He wouldn’t have any clue that I’ve never even been to a Day of Descendance celebration. It was never something for me to celebrate beyond what it meant to my existence.

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