Sixty-Seven
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Samkiel
T he empty council hall echoed with silence. I sat at the helm and
flexed my hands against the table, my silver rings gleaming in the
rays of the rising sun. I returned from Onuna mere hours ago, leaving Vincent to attend to the mortal affairs. Someone had reported suspicious activity from a ship off the coast of the Dead Ocean, but it turned out to be nothing other than a yacht filled with celebrating mortals. Otherwise, it had been quiet, no Otherworld activity since the attack on Dianna. Vincent had covered that up with technology I did not understand nor care for.
Even though I had made it back earlier than expected, I came straight here. Logan had gotten bored and showed up on Onuna. Neverra and Imogen were with Dianna, and I didn’t want to bother her, especially after the photograph Logan had shown me of the three of them. They were all making funny faces at the camera, and her smile reached her eyes for once.
But it was more than that. We needed to have a conversation that I was just not ready for. So, instead, I came here, letting her enjoy a somewhat normal day of normal fun while I worked.
I flexed my hands again. There was no hint of the grayish tint to my skin I had seen in my nightmares the last few nights. I leaned back, taking the small journal from the breast pocket inside my council garbs. I flipped it open and scanned the few pages I’d filled with events from those dreams.
So many damn dreams. I studied the sketch I had drawn on the nights Dianna slept above me, not even her presence able to chase away the nightmares.
The rough lines formed an image of me stretched across a stone altar.
Three figures stood over me, two of the same height, one slightly shorter.
All dark and malevolent, all with a crown of horns upon their heads.
Death.
I felt it when my father ran his blade through me in that dream. I felt it when my power erupted from me, scalding my eyes and mouth, my entire being burning as the realms ripped open.
“Have you told her?”
“No.”
I did not startle, sensing that Roccurem had appeared behind me even though the air did not stir with his entrance. I often wondered where he went when he was not here, but I assumed he might venture through the world after being contained for so long.
“Your father would sketch his visions as well.”
I rubbed at the slight stubble on my chin. “Good friends, were you?”
“No, I merely watched over him.”
I closed the journal, placing it back inside my council garbs.
“The halls are quiet,” Roccurem said, sitting to my right. “It is always quiet before a storm, I suppose.”
“And what storms have you seen?” I asked, leaning my elbows on the polished surface of the table.
“Many, my liege. Many. Ones made of spears of ice so cold it cracks skin and freezes blood. In some, the rain is so strong it can crumble buildings. In others, fire and ash engulf the world. All real, all possible, all dangerous.”
“My father spoke of you and your brethren, you know? When I was a boy. Fates shape the tendrils of destiny, time even. A whisper on the winds of catastrophes to come, but I didn’t believe it. I knew you also saw peace, rebirth, life, and death.”
Roccurem only stared at me, not seeming even to breathe.
“I also remember reading about those who could whisper what was to come in dreams. Over and over until the recipient understood, until they got it. A whisper to those they wished to influence.”
If Roccurem ever smiled, I never saw it, but the slight twitch of his lips told me all I needed to know.
“My liege, such powers as those would be outlawed and forbidden. It is not my place to interfere. I merely watch, maybe even suggest.”
“Why did my father lock you away? Was it for your safety, or was he using you for something else?” I asked, holding his gaze.
“You ask questions as if you don’t trust the one who made you.”
“I ask questions because it is possible I already know the answers, and I want to see if you would lie to me.”
The mist near Roccurem shifted, bent as if he were preparing to leave.
Or maybe a fate could feel anger.
“Your father saved me from one who was very unkind. One who slaughtered and manipulated my brethren for their gain. Locked away is a mortal term meaning confinement. He protected me as he has done for you and many others. I owe him a debt, and I intend to pay it.”
I sat up straighter. “What debt?”
The council doors opened, and Logan strode in dressed in his council attire, the inky black and gold coat flaring behind him.
“There you are. I have been looking for you. You’re needed in Yejedin.
They found something.”
I was on my feet a moment later, striding toward him. I didn’t bother to look back, knowing Roccurem was already gone.
M y feet touched the ground outside the palace , the roaring in my head easing. I walked the stone bridge path, the weight on my shoulders feeling lighter with each step closer to her. Feminine laughter filtered through the open front door, filling the palace with warmth, making it something akin to a home. My power reached for her, seeking her warmth and the connection between us.
I paused in the hall, the curtains blowing in the wind near me. I closed my eyes, listening for a moment, afraid it would stop if they knew I was there. She would stop. I’d wished for Dianna to laugh again, and hearing it now was music to my soul. What a beautiful sound. If only the gods could bottle it up, I’d get drunk off of it every night.
A glass shattered, cutting off their laughter, and I was in the kitchen in the next second.
Imogen stood with her hands clamped over her mouth, her eyes sparkling. Neverra’s grin was so wide it had to be making her face hurt.
Dianna’s dark hair spilled over her shoulder as she bent down, picking up the broken pieces of glass. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
She didn’t need dresses or gowns like the goddesses I used to fawn over.
Her simple sleeping clothes made me forget why I had come in here.
“Samkiel.”
Neverra’s voice snapped me out of my daze. I tore my gaze from Dianna and cleared my throat.
Neverra and Imogen wore similar sleeping attire, and I realized it was still early. The plates on the island were piled with stacks of crepes. The same ones she had made for me so long ago, and I realized Dianna had cooked. She had not done that in so very, very long.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning,” they said in unison, repeating the greeting back to me as if I had caught them in the middle of some wrongdoing.
“Imogen. Neverra.” Their backs snapped straight, all humor draining from them at my tone. “You’re needed at the council hall immediately.”
They nodded once and smiled at Dianna. Imogen thanked her for the evening before heading upstairs. Neverra placed a hand on Dianna’s shoulder, a look passing between them as if they shared a secret.
Dianna gave me a soft, almost shy smile. It was such a rare sight to see her so relaxed with her hair sleep mussed and her hazel eyes warm.
“Sorry about the mess.” She smiled, glancing at the kitchen and the glass between us.
With a simple flick of my hand, the kitchen was as before. Spotless, with only their breakfast laid out on the island. “What mess?”
She looked at the clean kitchen. “If you ever need to change careers, you definitely have a future in housekeeping.” Her tone was light, but I
caught the slight tremor in her voice.
“Was yesterday pleasant for you?”
Dianna nodded and stood. The movement was pure seductive grace, reminding me so much of the power she wielded but refused to use. I could sense it at times, a flicker, a spark, begging to be lit once more. The way she moved, regardless if she knew it or not, was an enticement. She did nothing in particular; merely her existence made my blood thrum as if singing her praises. The night she’d stripped in front of me, I’d damn near fallen to my knees and begged for just a taste.
What she did to me without even trying had to be a sin in some realm or the next. On Rashearim, they called women like her temptresses. Able to seduce anyone with a flick of their gaze, a finger, or a soft smile. She was the embodiment of a temptress, and I ached for her no matter what she wore or how she spoke. All she had to do was look at me, and I was hard for her.
She caught me up in the wildfire that was her, and I burned happily, but I feared I could not give her what she wanted. The thought put a damper on my mood.
Dianna stepped closer and ran her tongue over her lips. I nearly groaned and had to force myself to focus on her words. “I was wondering if you wanted to do something. Just the two of us? And this time without us fighting. I have this place in mind that would be fun. You do remember fun, right?”
Her scent surrounded me, mixed with the sweetness of the crepes. I swore my heart leaped in my throat and lodged itself there. I smiled to soften my response. “While I would—”
She placed a small hand against my chest, and the words died on my tongue. “Just hear me out before you say no and pretend you are busy.
Please.”
My hand covered hers, holding it against my chest. “I never pretend that I am busy. I truly am.”
“Sure you are. Anyway, it would just be for a day. A whole mortal day.
You can give me a day at least.”
Don’t look at me like that, my mind and heart whispered. So much had happened so quickly, and now Dianna practically begged to spend time with me. Duty told me I should not, but my heart raged that she would only further recluse herself if I said no. She was so fragile right now, but more than that, I wanted to be with her, to have this time with her.
“Y-yes.” I stumbled over my words before I cleared my throat. “I have things to attend to today, but I can try tomorrow.”
She slipped her hand from beneath mine, and a pained expression crossed her features. It was fleeting, but it was there. She smiled and stepped back right as Neverra and Imogen came downstairs. They carried large bags, both of them dressed and ready to go.
I kept my gaze on her, noting that this smile hadn’t touched her eyes, the hazel now clouded. “I may not be back tonight due to—”
“It’s fine. Tomorrow, remember. Just give me tomorrow,” Dianna said, cutting me off.
Neverra and Imogen seemed to hold their breath, everyone waiting for
my answer.
I nodded. “Tomorrow.”
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