Page 34 of A War of Embers

His face flushes a dark crimson before he stalks off in the opposite direction than where I’m heading. A small, insignificant part of me wonders if he’ll turn into a problem, but I nix the idea. It’s not my job to confirm or deny his suspicions. He let his cards show just now. The only thing altering in my plan is to be more aware of my surroundings as I head towards the kitchen, since surely Nox has spies everywhere.

By the time I make the trek to Alyvia, she’s elbow deep in dough and glowering at Zeke, who bites into an apple while staring at her with a reptilian look on his face. When he notices my entrance, he turns his attention to me with a rough bite into the fruit. “Keres.”

“Dragon.”

Alyvia huffs a laugh at my response. “I was beginning to think you’d starve. You usually show up earlier for meals.”

“I would’ve been here earlier, but I got waylaid,” I shrug and move around Zeke towards the fruit bowl. “Nox was waiting for me when I came out of my room. Seems he’s having trouble accepting my bargain with Rowan.”

“Lord Rowan,” Alyvia admonishes, though she seems more preoccupied with the dough than being stern with me.

I twirl the banana in my hand at Zeke. “You don’t always address him as Lord Rowan.”

Zeke shrugs. “I can do what I please. We fought together in the Province Wars. Violence tends to give you a reprieve amongst your own kind.”

Whatever that means. “So you’re as old as the other Lords and Ladies?” I question. Odd. No one has mentioned Zeke having an immortal soul.

“Those who come from the Wraithlands are not dignified with a title,” Zeke carelessly tosses out, like it’s not a bomb to my knowledge. “Those who guard the cities don’t take well to having to listen to orders given to them by creatures of the darkness. I do not care to be a Lord, so why would I waste my time demanding a foolish title?”

I lock down my expression so shock doesn’t show on my face. I thought, for a brief moment, Zeke may be like Nox and me. But this? Something tells me being a Lord wouldn’t absolve Zeke of his rancid personality. “Are you looked down upon because you come from the Wraithlands?” I ask.

Alyvia closes her eyes, pressing her lips together tight enough I realize that isn’t a question I should have asked. Still, Zeke doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, my question amuses him based on the smirk he’s shooting me.

“Look down upon? No, little monster, they don’t look down upon me here in the cities. They fear me. Much as I’m sure the people in Tellus fear you. In your own way, you’re practically a Lady. Dying does not come easy, and you relish in the violence you use to take on opponents. Perhaps you and I aren’t so different from what you believe.”

Zeke and I the same? It’s almost laughable. Though neither of us are like the Lords and Ladies in our realm, we still aren’t the same. The fact he would dare to say such a thing is ludicrous. An image pops up of Lady Gwenyth and her horrid personality of vanity and violence she’s woven together. Whereas I lean heavily on violence, though not of my own accord, vanity is not something I've ever cared about.

When you outlive a potential partner, you begin to lose interest in what your clothes and body look like. It’s been years since anyone has caught my attention enough to make me question if I bothered brushing my hair that morning or just twisting it up into a braid like usual.

“You enjoy living in your delusions,” I tell Zeke with a sardonic smile. Turning towards Alyvia, I forcibly lighten my voice to ask, “So what are you doing? A big meal prep tonight?”

“Lady Cirilla is dining with Lord Rowan,” she advises. “A big feast is to be held.”

“I thought he wasn’t interested in mating with her,” I frown. “At least that's Meredith and Deena’s takeaway.”

“It’s polite to feast with your guest,” Zeke interrupts.

Rolling my eyes at his comment, I take a bite of the banana in my hand. “Right, because Rowan actually gives a shit about his guests.”

The entire room freezes at my remark; all except Zeke who starts to laugh boisterously. “Oh, little monster, you are a refreshing voice in the estate, that’s for sure. You’re correct, Rowan doesn’t give a shit. But he puts up pretenses because it’s not worth it to have the entire estate’s mood sour based on a certain Lady whining that she’s being ignored.”

“You shouldn’t address Lady Cirilla like that, Keres,” Alyvia quietly says. “She is to be respected.”

Far be it for me to point out that absolutely none of these people in Aïdes have garnered my respect. Even the esteemed Lord Rowan hasn’t earned anything. “These are not my people.”

“You inherited them for the brief time you plan on being alive,” Alyvia points out.

“Lady Cirilla won’t kill you,” Zeke tosses out, like the idea was floating around in my mind. After Sereia’s utter failure to kill me, I don’t believe just any Lord or Lady can do it now. “She’ll run to Lord Rowan with a tale of the mean Keres. Doubt he’ll give you what you want either.”

Since when did a punishment include living?

Whatever. I have nothing to say to that, so I don’t bother responding. Although I know Lady Cirilla is less likely to fight back when I try to maim her in the Wraithlands since she seems the harmless type who doesn't like getting her hands dirty. At least then I can prove to Rowan I meant everything in our bargain. If he wants me to show him how eager I am to die, who am I but to oblige his request?

Really, he has no one to blame but himself for what’s about to be unleashed into his world.

“Lady Cirilla isn’t worth my time,” I answer as nonchalantly as I can. “She reminds me too much of Lady Gwenyth.” Which is actually quite true. Though Lady Gwenyth might be more vicious than Lady Cirilla.

“Just focus on how you can win the bargain,” Alyvia suggests. “This way, by the time Lord Rowan returns, you’ll be ready to go to the Cliff of Embers. It won’t be too much longer now.”

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