Page 94 of A Reign of Storm and Madness

There are sconces on the walls of the hallway—old and dusty—lit up in a way I haven’t seen before when I enter the shop. A familiar figure stands behind the dusty counter littered with trinkets and cobwebs. Madam Brione leans into the wooden platform leafing through the pages of an old book. She glances up when the door closes behind me, eyes blinking behind thick-rimmed glasses. She pulls them off and sets them to the side before smoothing a shaking hand over her usual flyaway gray curls. She nods back towards the kitchen. “Waiting for you,” she says. “Back there. Door on the right.”

Door on the right? I thought those were her own personal rooms. I don’t comment though, and instead thank her and head down the short hallway to the kitchen I’d been in that very morning. The window facing the back is closed now and latched. I turn to the right and pause in front of the door I’d assumed Madam Brione stayed in.

I knock twice and the door jerks open a moment later, Regis’ pale and worried face standing there. He steps to the side and I enter. His anxiety doesn’t help my own and I twist my fingers into my cloak before catching myself and releasing the folds.

“Where is he?” I ask. “Carcel.”

Regis flinches and steps away after closing the door behind me. My eyes scan the room within. It’s not a bedroom, I realize but a sitting room. The walls are covered in a rich red wallpaper, a thick rug rests in the middle of the room with chests lining one side and chairs and lounges encircling the center, various tables placed haphazardly here and there for drinks to be set upon as almost an afterthought rather than true additions to the room. There’s no sign of Carcel in here though.

I spy a door on the opposite side of the room from the one I’d come in through. Light dances beneath the space where the door ends and the floor begins. No voices come from beyond it though.

Regis is unusually quiet. I face him again. “Regis?”

He doesn’t look at me when he responds. “Ophelia wants to see you.” His tone is solemn and I feel something evil wrap its claws around my ribcage, squeezing so tightly I’m scared it’ll fracture.

“Ophelia?” She’s here? “What about Carcel?”

Regis still doesn’t look at me. “Ophelia decided to meet up with him and travel to Riviere,” he says. “That’s why it’s taken him so long to get here. He was waiting on her.”

“And she wants to see me?” I repeat.

He nods.

Somehow, I manage to keep my voice even when I reply. “Regis … what’s going on?”

Silence meets my question. Long, deep aching silence. Finally, he looks at me, and when he does, his lips twist into that fatefully telling uncomfortable frown. “You know what it’s about, Kiera.”

The claws contract. I told him about the Darkhavens in that last message I’d sent. I’d told him that they knew…everything. Regis’ face is haggard, even more so than he’d seemed this morning. As if the few hours we’d been apart had shaken him deeper than even the ridiculous conclusion he’d come to in assuming he’d killed a Mortal God on his own. My ribcage shatters into a million pieces. The sharp edges stab into my heart, slicing it open in a way I haven’t felt since the night my father died and my whole world came crashing down.

“You told her.” It’s not a question, but a statement. Regis is the only one outside of the Darkhavens that knows, the only one that I’ve ever trusted enough to tell my secrets and my failures to. I can’t breathe.

“I had to, Kay.”

“Don’t fucking call me that.” Traitor. I want to scream the word at him, but I can’t even bear to taste it in my mouth even if that’s exactly what he is. “You know I don’t trust many people in this world, Regis.” The words escape my quickly numbing lips. Perhaps my lacerated heart will simply stop beating before I have to face my true Master—the one who holds the reins of my fate. That would be a blessing. “I trusted you.”

He turns to face me, his pale cheeks reddening as an unfamiliar glistening enters his eyes. “Kiera,” he starts, “she had to know—you’re in too far. You’ve gotten too close to them and you’re not listening to me anymore. I told you that they don’t give a shit about you. They don’t care—”

“They signed a blood contract to keep my secret!” The scream echoes out of me, startling both of us. I’ve never yelled at Regis. Not in the ten years we’ve known each other. His blue eyes widen. I feel sick to my stomach.

Releasing a harsh breath, when he reaches out for me, I step away from him. Regis freezes. Don’t. I want to scream at him. Don’t look at me like that as if you’re the one that’s hurt.

Lifting my palms to my face, I scrub them down against my cheeks hard, pulling the skin until my hands reach my jawline and then drop away completely. I let them hang down on either side of me as I stare at the ground, trying to find even one minuscule ounce of forgiveness in me. All I come up with is the mutilated feeling of betrayal that echoes within the chambers of my once whole heart.

It hadn’t hurt nearly this much when Ruen was the one betraying me, when he’d turned me into the Gods for disrespect with some ill-conceived notion that he could get rid of me if he threatened me enough. But that was because we’d had no relationship, no truths and no understanding of who the other was. Regis, however, is the only friend—my oldest and first friend—who has known everything about me from the start.

The pain of his words sits like sharp, jagged rocks at the base of my stomach. Each breath causes them to swell up and stab at my insides, reopening wounds before they can close over with my incredibly fast healing. It’s a fresh kind of agony, one that hurts more with the passage of time rather than getting better.

Regis tries again. “This mission has gotten too dangerous,” he says, the struggle of his expressions and how he can’t seem to maintain a cool facade showcasing just how hard it is for him to contain his guilt.

“Mission?” I repeat the word with a shake of my head. “You still don’t get it?”

His brow creases. “Get what?”

I bare my teeth at him. “There is no fucking mission, Regis,” I snap. “It’s been months and the client never even gave us a target!” My breaths come heavier and faster. “Haven’t you ever wondered what was taking so long? It’s because there is no target. This was all a test from the beginning.” It’s the only thing that makes sense. “Ophelia…”

“You think Ophelia tricked us?” Regis stares at me in shock.

“Not us,” I clarify. Never us again. “And she didn’t trick—she tested. That’s what she does. Ophelia doesn’t trust anyone, not even her most prized possessions and her proteges.” Maybe I should’ve picked that trait up from her.

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