Page 85 of Heir of Illusion

“That was careless,” Baylor whispers, his tone deceptively soft.

“It was calculated,” I counter, praying he buys my explanation. “Didn’t you notice that Selim and Cassandra dislike him? Many alliances have been formed based on a shared enemy. And now the others know you won’t stand for their disrespect.”

He’s silent for a moment as he considers my words. “Let’s hope your gamble paid off. But in the future, leave the politics to me, pet.”

“Of course.” I dip my chin, lowering my eyes in a show of respect.

His finger taps nervously against my side. “Killian should have been here by now,” he quietly seethes. “What is the point of this infuriating alliance if he’s can’t even uphold his end of the deal?”

I refrain from pointing out how generous the God of Death has been with us, considering Baylor is the one who hasn’t made good on his promises. Still, I can’t help but worry. Thorne said he would be here, but what if Killian changed his mind? A foolish pang of sadness settles in my chest at the thought of not seeing the reaper. I shove the emotion down, knowing there’s no room for those kinds of sentiments tonight.

A second later, the double doors at the top of the stairs burst open, quickly followed by the clang of the gong sounding off for a third time. The signal can only mean one thing.

Death has come to the Seventh Isle.

Shadows spread throughout the room, devouring every ounce of light. Silence falls as three people step onto the landing. For a moment, I don’t even notice the other two. My attention is stuck on the one in the center.

Thorne.

He’s heartbreakingly beautiful in his dark apparel as he glides to the railing. He’s so graceful, socaptivating. Heat rises to my cheeks as I remember the way he used that word to describe me. He stands above us, silently judging the crowd with that ice-cold gaze. Something unexpected flashes in his eyes when they land on me, but he covers it quickly as his companions appear at his shoulders. My brows pinch as I try to understand the meaning behind that look.

My focus shifts to the familiar face on his right. Griffen is handsome in his maroon jacket. He appears far sterner than he did at the beach. The third member of their party is a woman I’ve never seen before. Her long inky black hair falls to her waist, contrasting beautifully against the midnight blue of her dress.

Something hot and vicious flares underneath my skin when she leans closer to Thorne, not close enough to touch him, but to whisper something for only him to hear. My eyes narrow at her proximity and a flash of amusement crosses his face, but it’s gone a second later. He drags his gaze away from me, his features shifting back into the cold mask he wears so often.

Both Griffen and the woman flank Thorne, walking slightly behind him as they move to the staircase. Confusion blasts through me. Did Killian send ambassadors in his place? I glance at Baylor from the corner of my eye, finding his face pinched with tension. He won’t respond to this insult kindly.

“K-Killian,” the announcer stutters, his voice quieter than before. “God of Death.”

Everyone else kneels, but I stand frozen, squinting at the open doors on the landing as I search for the God. Is he entering behind them? That would be odd. My attention flits back to the reaper, spotting a trace of shame swirling behind his eyes.

My blood turns to ice as my heart sinks into my stomach.

The announcer carries on, introducing Thorne’s companions, but I don’t hear him. The sounds of waves crash against my ears as the whole world narrows down to this single moment, this realization that’s being forced upon me.

I hold my breath as Thorne raises his hands. Heat brushes against my face as a giant ring of fire appears over our heads, illuminating the ballroom. Gasps ring through the crowd. Many people cover their heads, fearing the blaze, but Thorne shows no reaction to their dramatics. He stands proud, his head high as he watches me. Only two people in this world have the ability to wield fire, the flames of creation and destruction. Life and Death.

Air catches in my lungs as my mind forces me to confront what’s right before my eyes.

Thorne doesn’t work for the God of Death.

Thorne is the God of Death.

Chapter

Twenty-Three

Denials rise to the tip of my tongue.

This can’t be true. But when Thorne’s eyes find mine again, I know it is. That mask I’ve seen him don many times is in full effect now. He carries himself with the power and authority of a God. Questions pound against my skull, one after another. How? Why? Was it obvious? Was he laughing behind my back at how easily I believed his lies? Was a single word out of his mouth true?

Baylor’s anger radiates off him in waves, seeping into my skin and igniting my own bone-deep rage. Whimpers echo through the ballroom as courtiers cower in fear of the ring of fire swirling above our heads. Some duck into the alcoves, hoping to hide from the wrath of Death. Others push their noses deeper into the floor, as if they are trying to sink through it.

But I don’t cower or hide or sink.

Instead, I hold my head high, my shoulders back as I watch him stride toward me.

I wantDeathto feel my disrespect.

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