Chapter 8
Blue
It was a soul-sucking existence being back on Demonia. Already I missed the sewage-riddled streets of the Middle Realm. Only when I was with Erene could I smile. Here in Demonia, I had to be—
“Blue!” A soldier cried for me. “Message from the master.” He ran up to me, holding a wax-sealed letter in his hand.
“Thank you,” I said coldly, taking the letter before swiftly reading it. I looked up at the soldier, allowing my blue fire to turn the missive to dust. His eyes widened and a vein throbbed at his temple.
The soldier was not a pureblood, though his sclera was black. He could pass as one but in reality, he was a half-blood. Father enjoyed retaining the services of bastards like me. We came from nothing, we were less than the lowest in Demonia, it meant we were loyal no matter how badly we were treated. Because at least here we had a proper place to rest our heads at night.
“Prepare my carriage and tell the Lieutenant to come see me. I’ll be in my study.” Then turning on my heel, I marched for my room.
Only once in the privacy of my room did I allow myself to sit. My head hurt.
With a groan I rubbed my temple, feeling the full weight of my exhaustion crushing down on me.
Even now, two years after casting the spell, I couldn’t understand why I’d been sent back. Initially, I’d believed the Goddess had given me a second chance, to use me—perhaps—for her own means. But in two years I’d never once been contacted by the goddess.
So, if she’d not sent me back, why was I here?
The rapping of knuckles on the door broke through my thoughts. My transformation was instantaneous.
“Come in,” I said, as I stood and quickly called forth transformation magic to change my outfit, once again.
When Lieutenant Raydos entered, he gave me a nod. By many estimations Raydos’ ascension to Lieutenant was a disgrace, especially amongst father’s royal knights. He was a weakling by pureblood standards.
His face was long and delicate, almost feminine in its softness. He had dark brown eyes, black sclera, and tiny horns that looked more like reindeer antlers than the proud spines of the most powerful knights. Shoulder-length hair, red as freshly shed blood, that he had tied back with a simple black ribbon.
In all ways, he was unassuming, a titled noble with a generally decent reputation who kept mostly to himself and was dreadful with a sword.
But what he was good at, he was very, very good at.
“Come,” I ordered.
His front teeth clenched tight and I didn’t try to hide my smirk. Even he, who was looked down upon by almost every one of rank in this castle, rankled at taking orders from a half-blood like me.
But Raydos would never betray me, because I knew the truth of him. I was the only one in this castle who did.
I lifted a brow. Finally, he moved forward, taking a seat on the very edge of the red velvet-draped chair opposite me. He dropped his hands into his laps, his posture was rigid and guarded. The polar opposite of how Prince Mikael’s had been when we’d first met.
I wondered if he knew that I’d had an audience with his Prince if he’d act any differently toward me. Probably not.
Raydos was Mikael’s hidden man amongst us, but in the other timeline, I’d corrupted Raydos with the knowledge I’d gained, forcing him to betray his true prince and divulge all of Mikael’s strategies to me first. It was how we’d managed to always keep ahead of the Wise Prince Mikael.
But having met the enigmatic Prince for myself I was coming to realize that he must have known Raydos had been turned. Which begged the question why hadn’t Prince Mikael had him killed? Why had he allowed Raydos to continue feeding us as he had? Why was the prince so hard for me to get a read on? If his actions made even the slightest bit of sense maybe I’d have stood a chance, but he acted in ways that I couldn’t account for.
I stared at the pretty man.
He looked at me unflinchingly, not bothering to hide his disdain. I grinned.
“Tonight, I received this missive.” With a flick of my fingers, I brought up a mystical image of the note, it flickered a brilliant icy blue.
“This is Tarsish,” he said, leaning forward, almost excitedly as he stared awed at the strange markings. He glanced at me. “It’s a dead language.”
I nodded. “I knew that the moment I spied it. My question to you is, what does it say, and who sent this?”
Raydos excelled at tongues. He knew every language of the people, and even those no longer spoken. “There aren’t many linguists around who would have a grasp of even the most basic words, let alone have the fluency exhibited here.”
Which meant there were only two people who could have sent this. A scholar mage from the arcane tower, or Prince Mikael himself.
“What does it say?”
“It says,” he said slowly, “that your presence is requested tonight at the Witching Hour in Bishop’s Square.”
I lifted a brow.
Bishop’s Square was just on the outskirts of father’s domain, in a small village of not much significance. It was a good place to rendezvous if one did not wish to be caught.
Prince Mikael, while brilliant, would not have the means to travel such a great distance in such a short amount of time. Which meant, this letter did come from the Arcana.
I’d already begun to alter the past through my actions.
I’d never met with a member of the Tower in my past time. They were mages of darkness.
My heels clacked rhythmically on the stone floor as I went to reach for my blood-red cloak. I wrapped it around my shoulder, tying the ends together.
I looked at Raydos, he wore a curious look. But I knew he would not ask me why Arcana was contacting me. He knew full well the mages were loyal to the Emperor. An emperor my father was desperate to overthrow.
My going, therefore, could be considered treason. Unless, of course, I’d corrupted one of the mages. Which had never been done in the history of Demonia before.
Raydos was brilliant, but I did not trust him. I did not trust anyone in my circle. They would all betray me in the end, I could never afford to forget that.
Whistling beneath my breath, I called a sheaf of parchment and a quill dipped in dragon’s blood to me. With just a thought I wrote out an encrypted note. The quill turned toward me, and I pricked my pointer finger with it. Then I sealed the letter with my blood.
I looked at Raydos. “Get this to your prince.”
He took the note, turning towards the door that would lead him out to Father’s study.
“Your real prince,” I said, before rolling my fingers through the air and opening a portal that would take me directly to Bishop’s Square.
He sucked in a sharp breath. “What?”
He didn’t have to ask for me to know the thoughts hammering through his head. Were Prince Mikael and I in cahoots? Did the prince have a mole in the Tower? I would answer none of his unspoken thoughts.
First time I’d ever seen Raydos startled, I smirked, enjoying the sight more than I should. He often considered himself the smartest in the room, I’m sure he was at a loss for words. But I didn’t engage him in further conversation, he was smart enough to know what I meant.
I stepped through the portal, the blue light of my fire embracing me in its warmth. When next I blinked, I was in an abandoned town square. Light from the twin moons illuminated the cobbled pathway. Beside me stood the statue of the Great Bishop Enollo who’d saved the kingdom with the sacrifice of his own life, staving off the attack of both the armies of the north and west, allowing the current bloodline to retain its throne and creating a vacuum which eventually allowed Mikael to claim the title of Prince of the West. One of Emperor Claude’s progeny had been placed in the South, my father.
Enollo had been a hero to some and a traitor to others. The Emperor Claude also known as The Bloody Red King, had brought much bloodshed to this land. I could neither say he was wicked, but nor was he great. I thought of Prince Mikael, there were others much better suited to wear the crown.
“You are not what I expected.”
I turned at the sound of the elder male voice. Noting the black robes that almost completely enshrouded the mage. But red eyes burned with dark flame back at me.
A good five yards stood between us, the mage neither approached nor retreated, I suspected he was taking my measure. I reached out with just a brush of my power, trying to take his measure, and was surprised at the amount of darkness I sensed in him.
That level of power could only belong to the most high mage, Elder Acornus. It was said no mage before him had ever been blessed with so much raw power. Even standing beside him I could feel the intense wave of his energy.
He was powerful. Far more even than me. I instantly gathered my powers to me in a tight ball, alert and now on edge.
He held up a hand, and I noticed that it was now nothing but bone. Elders weren’t named so merely as a title, they gained their exceptionally long lives through temple sacrifices. Much like how I absorbed souls to take on their powers, the arcana was said to actually consume them. I could still release a soul I took, but when a mage took one, there was never a return.
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