Page 122 of The Ascended
I knew I should stay put. Knew that wandering the palace of the God of Death uninvited was the very definition of foolishness.
But I couldn’t allow Thatcher to do all the heavy-lifting. I needed to investigate too. If their conversation had anything to do with what we’d learned at the prison—if I could figure out exactly what this meant for Sundralis and Bellarium, I wasn’t going to waste the opportunity. Consequences be damned.
I waited long enough to be reasonably certain Osythe had retired to her own chambers, then cracked open the door, peering into the dimly lit corridor beyond. Empty.
Slipping out, I retraced our steps down the spiral staircase, moving as silently as possible. The nightgown whispered against my skin with each step.
At the bottom of the stairs, I paused, listening. The palace was eerily quiet now, with only the occasional distant sound of movement to suggest it wasn’t completely deserted.
I followed the corridor toward where I thought the voices had originated, passing several closed doors before stopping at one that stood slightly ajar, a thin line of light spilling out onto the dark floor.
“—cannot continue to delay,” Morthus was saying, his voice tightly controlled but edged with frustration. “The time for childhood rebellion has long passed.”
“Is that what you think this is?” Xül’s response was coated in ice. “Rebellion?”
“What would you call it? You reject every suggestion, every candidate put before you. You hide on that island of yours rather than taking your place here. You shirk responsibilities that have been yours since birth.”
“I fulfill my duties as Warden,” Xül replied. “I maintain the Prison. I interrogate those who threaten our domain. What more would you have of me?”
“A successor,” Morthus said bluntly. “An heir. A wife who can stand beside you when you eventually take my place.”
My breath caught in my throat. This was not a conversation I should have been hearing.
“Nyvora is a suitable match,” Morthus insisted. “And Davina supports the union.”
“Then perhaps Davina should marry her,” Xül replied scathingly.
“You speak like a child,” Morthus’s voice lowered. “This isn’t about what you want. It’s about what must be. Sacrifice?—”
“Don’t presume to lecture me about sacrifice, Father,” Xül shot back.
“You have responsibilities,” Morthus continued, implacable. “Responsibilities you’ve ignored for too long.”
“Is that what mother was to you? A responsibility?” The question hung in the air. “A suitable match?”
Silence stretched so taut I could almost hear it humming.
“You know better than that,” Morthus said finally, his voice quieter but no less intense. “What your mother and I share has nothing to do with this discussion.”
Xül’s laugh was bitter. “You chose a mortal woman against all tradition, all expectation, all divine law. You nearly started a war.”
“The circumstances were different,” Morthus replied. “You’re well aware of that.”
“Right.” I could hear the sneer in Xül’s voice. “This is my fate—after ascending on my own merit, not through accident of birth like so many of the others.”
“There’s that self-pity once again.”
Footsteps approached the door. Xül. “This discussion is over, Father.”
I barely had time to duck behind a nearby column before the door was thrown open. Xül emerged, his face a mask of cold fury. He strode past my hiding place without a glance, heading toward the gardens.
I pressed myself against the column, hardly daring to breathe until he had disappeared from sight. From within the study came the sound of a heavy object being slammed—Morthus venting his frustration on some unfortunate object.
I should return to my room.I’d already heard far more than I should have, far more than was safe. And I certainly didn’t want to be caught in the middle of his family drama.
And yet.
Don’t do this,a sensible voice whispered in my mind.Remember what he did today. Remember he threatened you. Remember the coldness in his eyes.
