Maybe I won’t need that blood oath after all, but I guess it won’t hurt to have it.
But then it hits me—wouldn’t a blood oath bind me to him in some way as well? Isn’t it enough that we’re fated mates, and that this crazy connection has been created between us, even though we both have gone out of our way for so long to make sure that didn’t happen? A blood oath would make it impossible to break the connection, even though a relationship between us would be just as impossible. He’s the chief villain that we’ve fought so hard to defeat. I’m on the side of light, while Xerxes...
I shake my head, determined to keep a cool head. I know the King of Flames is evil? He created armies of Undead, he desecrated the bodies of dead fae in order to make them. For all I know, he killed fae in order to transform them into undead soulless weapons. He allied himself with hellish creatures in order to take over the human realm. My brother Zillard is out there as we speak, in the shadows, keeping a grip on the human realm and making a villain of himself in order to ensure real evil doesn’t seep in to tip the balance.
Xerxes leads the way up the regal stairs, dark and full of cobwebs, the stone cracked, grass growing inside the fissures. Unlike the Edinburgh castle in the human world, its replica on this side is full of ghosts, and no one wants to be inside it for too long. It’s the farthest thing from a tourist attraction.
Which means no one will look for us here, especially not for the King of Flames. Castle Rock is the last place my guardians and even Lysander the King of Frost would think to look for us, simply because it’s not like Xerxes to stay anywhere close to a place where he wreaked havoc. A smart move to do just that now, I’ll give him that. I’ve only been around him for an hour, and I’ve already gotten glimpses of his brilliant mind. No wonder he was once literally the most powerful man alive.
Xerxes opens the door to what might be the Jacobite room on the other side, but I’m not sure. It’s got the diamond-shaped wooden beams, the majestic feel and the size that people who’ve visited it told me about. But unlike in the human world, all we find here for furniture is a few barrels, and a few logs that other fugitives before us must have used as tables and stools. There are remains of magic powder on the barrels, and small shards of broken crystals, the sign that someone had been struggling to teleport.
“First things first,” Xerxes says as Kareim takes a seat on the first available log, Marayke crouching down in front of him. She grabs a candle from another table and snaps her fingers to light it up before she inspects the slashes on his face, her warrior-girl fingers more gentle than they look. “Can you use your magic to restore our mage’s face, Cerys?”
I could throw up as I remember how Marayke raised her blade to pierce my brother a year ago, and I can’t bring myself to even want to help.
“No,” I say drily. “I’m a magic energy worker, not a healer.”
“Yes you are,” Marayke snaps. “All mages can heal, you just don’t want to.”
“First of all, it’s not all mages, and secondly, even if I could, he’d still have the scars. The cuts are too deep. Besides, he’s a High Mage, can’t he heal himself?”
Kareim glares at me, but says nothing.
“Kareim is a young mage,” Xerxes explains. “He took over the job as High Mage of the Fire Realm when his father was killed—which happened when your friends stormed my outposts in the Flipside, and eliminated my courts and closest allies, after they shattered my core last year.”
“Which means that you haven’t had time to train properly, is it?” I ask Kareim with a sneer. “But you heard your sister, healing magic is basic. You should be able to heal yourself.” Kareim glances at me with the promise of retribution in his eyes.
“Which brings us back to the reason we’re here—why did you want Cerys, Kareim?” Xerxes demands. “Does it have anything to do with your lacking the basic skills of a mage?”
“She is a special one, I knew she’d be a valuable asset,” he explains unwillingly, his face pointed up at the ceiling as his sister tears a bit of his expensive-looking robe, and starts to clean his wounds. “I knew she’d be beneficial for you, Milord, just like I said back at the cave. There was no other hidden reason.”
“Yes, there was,” I say, fury balling in my stomach. “You thought that after Xerxes got what he needed from me, you could feed from my aura as well.” I’ve been doing magic energy work for so long that my body is basically made of positive energy, and the bastard thought he’d feed on it when Xerxes no longer needed me, and threw me away. “I guess there’s been a change of plans—your King will need my assistance for longer than you expected.”
Kareim doesn’t answer. By the way his sister shifts and focuses harder on the wounds she’s uncomfortable with what has been exposed about her brother as well.
“You’ll need at least fresh water for that,” I say, and turn to Xerxes, caressing Nazarean. “And I need food for Nazarean. Any way we can get some before we talk about the blood oath and what we do next?” But it’s clear to us all at this point that Kareim is so lackluster a mage that he won’t be able to sanctify something so high-energy as a blood bond.
Xerxes
“SO OUR MAIN PROBLEM remains finding where Apophis’ Wraiths hid the Firestone,” Cerys concludes, stroking her cat with her smooth fingers as the animal laps at its milk. He’s playing his part well. He could fool anybody into thinking he’s just a regular black cat, simply a mage’s familiar. But the more I observe him, the more certain I am that he’s a creature from Tartarus, sent by Hades to watch over his daughter. The strength and speed and viciousness with which he attacked Kareim wasn’t typical for a simple familiar. “In all these years, you haven’t found any leads as to where that might be?”
“I didn’t think I’d ever need the Firestone,” I reply, leaning on the wall and staring out into the night. This place offers a view over the entire Flipside of Edinburgh, the orange light of lamps and candles flickering behind old windows, smoke rising into the air from the dark chimneys. The city looks much more modern on the other side, which has become cluttered with humongous buildings, infrastructure and high-end technology. Here, magic made such changes obsolete. The Flipside might look like a combination between the medieval and Victorian-gothic age, but it’s ten times more advanced than the twenty-first century of the human world.
“It’s not like anybody can use its magic the way I can, and I never expected.” I pause. “What happened a year ago.”
“Speaking of the confrontation a year ago, I didn’t get a good view of the fight between you and Lysander,” Cerys says, “but I remember that he kept attacking, and you never attacked back. I find it hard to believe that he overpowered you.” I can feel her eyes scanning me, as if measuring my strength, and heat rises in my groin. I wish she were checking me out with lust, and the realization makes me uncomfortable. “Now I know he couldn’t have overpowered you, not so easily.”
“So what’s your question?” I keep my eyes away from her. I can’t let this connection deepen any more, or it will be impossible to do what I promised her, and let her go when this is over.