Page 77 of Sundered By Fate

They had some options, the king allowed. Valerian's forces were ready to strike at any time, although they'd been focused on reinforcing the wards around the city. The Silver Tower mages were gathering for a coordinated assault on the rift itself, hoping to seal it before more demons could come through. And the Pureblade Order was mobilizing for a counterattack, though their numbers had been severely depleted by the initial attack.

As the discussion raged, Aric couldn't help but stare at King Aster. There was something about him, something he couldn't put his finger on, that seemed familiar and yet not. Not the face, which had been hardened by age and grief; not the mannerisms, which had grown even more imperious and aloof. It was something deeper, something in the way he held himself, in the shadows that danced in his violet eyes.

Aric's fingers twitched with the feeling of magic, his instincts screaming that something was off. But the council room was too crowded, the air too thick with the smell of fear and desperation. He forced down the urge to act, to draw his sword and charge into the fray. He would do whatever it took, whatever was asked of him, to stop the demons. But he had to tread carefully.

"We can't just wait for them to attack again," Valerian was saying. "We need to take the fight to them. Destroy the rift, cut off their reinforcements, and drive them back to whatever hell they came from."

"Agreed." Aster leaned back in his chair. "What do you propose, Lord Regent?"

Valerian leaned forward, his blue eyes glinting in the candlelight. "I think it is time for me to bring my new forces to bear."

A sudden pain tore through Aric's back. He flinched, his gauntleted hand flying up to press against the sigil. The images flooded his mind once more: Malekith, forced to his knees, blood streaming down his face. Malekith wincing as the branding iron approached. Zaxos standing over him, gloating. Sylthris watching from the shadows.

Sylthris.

Sylthris, and her too-familiar eyes.

Aric's heart stuttered. The pain in his back was joined by a different kind of agony, a cold, heavy weight settling in his chest.

The shadows in the court.

The King.

The deadly stillness in his violet eyes.

Aric forced down the bile rising in his throat. All around him, the council continued to argue and bicker, oblivious to the horror clutching at his insides.

Aric's mind shot back to the catacombs, where Sylthris had melded into the shadows like ink in water. He knew she had some way to access the palace, and suspected she was on Valerian's side, for whatever reason he couldn't begin to fathom. But could she really take the king's place? Really usurp him right under their noses?

Possession, or disguise? They were both layers of the same lie.

Aric's train of thought derailed as King Aster turned his head, and his eyes met Aric's.

The gleaming, opaque violet of his eyes.

Aric's breath caught. The candles in their sconces flickered, the shadows in the corners of the room crawling. The king's voice came to him, warped and distant.

"Am I boring you, mage?"

Aric's heart hammered in his chest. He felt the eyes of the council on him, all the distrust and disdain they’d barely held in check the past few days now boiling to the surface. But he made himself meet King Aster's gaze, hold his ground.

"Your Majesty," Aric said, his voice steady, the words like iron in his mouth. "I apologize. I was merely thinking of a spell that could be of use in defending the city."

King Aster's lips curled back in a snarl. "A spell, you say. You think we are not using all we can to stop these demons?"

Aric's jaw clenched, his blood singing with the memory of his fire. But he bowed his head, to play the part of the obedient subject. One wrong move, and he would be cast out of the palace, left to face the demons and the Pureblades on his own.

"I only wish to help in any way I can," Aric said, the lie tasting bitter on his tongue.

Aric moved before he even realized it. He was on his feet, his chair clattering to the floor behind him. He staggered, one hand shooting out to steady himself on the back of the chair.

"Valerian," Aster interrupted, his voice too calm, too controlled. "Let him speak. I'm sure he has a good reason for interrupting the council."

Aric swallowed hard, his mind racing. There was no time for subtlety, for careful dancing around the truth. If the king was truly possessed by Sylthris, it meant she was already one step ahead of him. And if she wasn't, if the truth was something even worse lurking beneath the surface, they had to find out before it was too late.

"Blasphemer," King Aster said, his voice dripping with contempt. "You dare question my authority? My judgment?"

Aric stepped closer, close enough to feel the heat of Aster's corrupted aura, the wrongness that pervaded his presence. The council's cries faded to a dull roar in his ears. All he could hear was the pounding of his own blood.

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