Page 28 of Heir of Illusion

The reaper’s threat flashes through my mind. From the inception of the Angel of Mercy, I’ve known the risks. Discovery was always a possibility. But Della and I have taken measures to ensure nothing can connect the two of us. When we started, it had been years since she and I had spoken publicly. My falling out with Leona and all of those connected with the late queen was well-known.

If I’m caught, at least it won’t lead back to her.

I don’t even believe Baylor will be upset about the actual murders. Instead, his anger will stem from being made a fool. His ownpetbetraying him in such a public way won’t be something he can brush off.

I’ve been practicing my cover story since last night, in case the reaper follows through on his threats. But for some odd reason, I don’t believe he will. From what I’ve seen, he could steal from Baylor without my help. However, I get the sense there’s something else he wants from me. Whatever he’s seeking, he won’t get it by having me imprisoned.

I’ve allowed my mind to wander as I’ve flipped through the pages, but one fragment of a sentence catches my attention, making the hairs on my arms stand up.

“The whispers made me do it.”

The fireplace crackles again, causing me to jump in my seat. Shivers worm their way down my spine as I trace my fingers over the words, wishing their meaning could be absorbed through touch alone.

Could this be referring to the same weapon Darrow and the reaper were discussing? My heart beats faster as I read the rest of the section.

Death of Claudius, the first God of Life.

Many have guessed at the motives behind why Philo, first God of Love, chose to slaughter Claudius, but none can say for certain. The murder shocked all residents of the Verran Isles. The Gods, our newly risen saviors, were seen as indestructible until Philo, the gentlest of them all, drove a sword through the heart of Claudius.

From that day on, Philo became known as the God of Love and Hate.

Many have questioned how the seemingly ordinary sword was able to slay a God. Some have claimed it must have been enchanted, while others believed any blade in the hands of a God would become a God Slayer. It is unknown what happened to the weapon after Claudius died. All we know for certain is that when Philo was asked why he murdered Claudius, he claimed, “The whispers made me do it.”

My eyes rove over the words again, positive I must have misread them. This can’t be accurate. It’s well-known that Claudius died in the war against the Novians five thousand years ago. Out of the countless historical texts I’ve read and the dozens of tutors I’ve studied with, none of them ever recounted a different version of events.

Until now.

My brows pinch together. Could the other texts have gotten it wrong? Or was this author simply mistaken? I flip back to the cover, realizing there’s no indication of who wrote it. Eying the tome wearily, I begin to feel strangely uneasy about the idea of being found with it.

And what about the sword it mentioned? Is it merely another falsehood, or could it be the same weapon the reaper is searching for? If it is a God Slayer, there’s only one reason to obtain it. He claimed he wanted to use it to avenge an injustice, which begs the question, which God does his master have a vendetta against?

A horrifying thought occurs to me.

Hypothetically, if Baylor was in possession of a God Slaying weapon, what are the chances it’s only a coincidence that no one has seen the Goddess of Illusion since he rose to power?

When she disappeared, her husband Triston crowned himself king, but his brief reign was marked by ruthlessness and chaos. I was only a few months old when Baylor raised an army and marched on the palace, launching a brutal battle that ended with Triston dead.

In the following weeks, everyone waited for an Heir to step forward. Gods are notoriously secretive about every aspect of their lives, especially their Heirs. Most hide them away, letting them be raised by adoptive parents until they are old enough to defend themselves. But when no Heir appeared, Baylor took the crown for himself under the agreement that if the Goddess or her Heir ever came forward, he’d hand the throne over to our rightful ruler.

But in all these years, it’s never happened. Everyone has always believed that if a God dies before producing an Heir, the Fates would choose one. That they haven’t done so here has led many people to speculate that Maebyn is either still alive, or she must have given birth to an Heir before she died. We’ve been waiting to see which of those theories will prove true for more than two decades.

Nausea stirs in my gut as another sickening thought occurs to me. If Maebyn’s Heir finally did come forward, there’s no way Baylor would willingly give up his throne. He’d keep it through whatever means necessary.

Oh Gods…Did I make a mistake? Should I have agreed to help the reaper steal the sword? But is the reaper and the God he serves any more trustworthy than Baylor? I flip back to the page I’d been reading and my eyes catch on the same line once more.

The whispers made me do it.

My hands tremble as I push the book away from me. It tumbles to the floor, landing face up on the picture of the reaper, his silver scythe gleaming in the dim light.

Hugging my knees to my chest, I take deep breaths as I try to be rational. This book is just one historian’s account. I don’t even know if it’s true. And I have no proof that the weapon they’re describing is the same one the reaper is trying to steal from Baylor. All of this could be a coincidence.

It’s fate, says a quiet voice in the back of my mind.

A shiver runs through me. I know the Fates work in mysterious ways. I can’t help but wonder if I’ve felt their interference over the past week? Meeting the reaper. Finding this book. It all reeks of divine intervention. But why would they be pulling at the strings ofmyfate? I’m no one of importance…

Voices filter through the stacks as a small group enters the library. Peering through my peephole to the door, I spot Lady Bridgid, Kaldar’s niece, standing with two of her friends. Her golden blonde ringlets bounce as she throws her head back, laughing at something one of her companions said.

My mouth twists into a grimace as I make myself invisible. The familiar prickling sensation covers every inch of my skin, setting my nerves on edge. The discomfort is worth it, though. These are the last people I want to be found by.

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