If not for the fact that my absence would plunge my territory into a civil war, I would’ve stepped down as territory leader years ago. I’m the last of my family. That means that without me in the picture, any belief about a curse should dwindle away to nothing. Someone else could step into this position easily enough . . . if not for the politics involved. My family has ruled our territory for as far back as anyone can remember. While we have married the other noble families into our ranks, there’s always been someone from our line to inherit the title.
Until now.
For once in my fucking life, I want nothing more than to be selfish, but fear of the cost haunts me. If I fail, if war comes, not only will hundreds—if not thousands—die in the infighting, but our territory will be so weakened that it will take no effort at all for one of the others to sweep in and finish us off.
No, I have to succeed. I have no other choice.
I can’t think inside these walls. This is my childhood home, and there once was a time when I ran through these halls with the confidence that nothing and no one could touch me. That I was perfectly safe. Now this place is more like a mausoleum. A memory of all I’ve lost that I can never escape. If I stop moving, it feels like the walls are closing in. Almost as if they will press me into mortar and stone, course over me until I am no longer a man, until I’m just another ghost haunting these hallways.
The dark thoughts drive me to the nearest vertical shaft and push me to launch myself into the air. I clear the castle walls in seconds, and only then can I breathe properly. At least for a moment. But everywhere I look is more evidence of what will be lost if I’m not skilled enough to succeed.
The peaks to the north, across the large lake, butt up against Rusalka’s territory. She already has her fiery fingers sunken into plenty of people in my territory. The delights she offers are intense enough to combat their instinctive fear of both incubi and succubi. My people only remember how brutal the last war was when it’s convenient for them.
If I keep flying, over the mountains to the west and past the bargainer demon territory to the ocean, I could just go until my wings give out and I plummet into the water. There would be no curse to worry about then. Maybe the memories plaguing me would finally cease rattling around in the back of my mind where I can never escape.
The look of surprise on my father’s face, frozen there in death.
My sister’s blood soaking the stones as her breath rattles to a stop.
The twins, their bodies so badly damaged that I’m not even certain what killed them. Only who.
The knowledge that I ran when I should have fought, that I hid when I should have helped.
I should have died that day with the rest of my family. Every moment I’ve lived since then feels stolen. That’s the true curse I live under.
The claustrophobic feeling inside me presses hard until I want to rip my skin off just to be rid of it. I know I need to keep everything inside, to power through any sign of weakness, but it bubbles up despite my best effort.
I throw my head back and keen my grief to the wind.
5
GRACE
I’m leaning halfway out my window, examining the exterior of the castle for a backup exit route, when I see the distant form of Bram shooting into the air. I pause despite myself. I was never one to wish for wings or flight. Being able to read people’s auras is magic enough, though no one really talks about how horrific it is that you can’t be lied to. Why wish for more? It seems to me that all magic is a double-edged blade, and I’m sure flight is no different.
It certainly is beautiful to watch, though. Bram cuts through the air the way sharks swim through the sea, every bit of energy seemingly devoted to his mobility, his speed. At least until he arches, throwing his head back. Even at this distance, I hear his cry and feel an answering twinge in my chest. I don’t need to see the white edged with pale blue pulsing from his body to know that he’s experiencing grief on a level most people can only dream of.
I hate that I know that feeling. I hate even more that I empathize with it. He sounds like he’s the last person living in the entire world and he only just realized it. I felt that when my mother never came home and I realized I was the last Jaeger left.
For so much my life, my family was the compass I guided my actions by, whether I followed in their footsteps or to fight against harmful traditions. Being the last one means I am unmoored in a way that I still haven’t quite wrapped my mind around.
I guess I’ll figure that out when I get back to my realm. For now, I have answers to seek.
I slip fully back into my room and carefully close the shutters. Climbing down the exterior wall might work in a pinch, but it’s a route I would like to avoid. There has to be a better way out of here that doesn’t require wings.
But first I have to deal with dinner.
And the fact that this castle is freezing. The gargoyles may look human enough, at least at first glance, but their differences become more apparent as the minutes tick by. Obviously the same skin that protects them from the icy temperatures at higher altitudes also insulates them in everyday life. There’s not even a fireplace in my room. I shiver and rub my hands over my bare arms, knowing full well that it won’t do anything to actually warm me up.
He said something about clothing . . .
I move to the faded wardrobe tucked back in a corner. I half expect dust to explode in my face as I muscle it open, but it seems like it’s been cleaned relatively recently. Inside, there are dozens of articles of clothing in a variety of styles. The one thing they all have in common is that they’re about the same size and obviously made for colder climates. I shoot a glance at the door and quickly drag off my dress. It’s tempting to go for the pants and long tunic, but I don’t want to raise Bram’s suspicions by making him think I want freedom of movement to fight or escape.
Instead, I pull on a thick dress that’s almost exactly my size. The square neckline leaves most of my chest bare, but at least the dress has got long sleeves and plenty of layers to keep me warm. It’s also about two inches too short, but I’m used to that. In the bottom drawer, I find woolen thigh-highs and ties to keep them up. That’s enough to make me raise my brows. I don’t know if Bram is allergic to clothing, but all he wore was a fancy-looking loincloth. There are no slits in the back of this dress to accommodate wings, so it was obviously created with a human in mind. The fact that there isn’t a single undergarment to be found . . . I’m not sure what to think about that.
No, that’s a lie. I know exactly what to think about that. I doubt whoever these clothes belonged to needed underwear. I read the contract Azazel gave me. I know that the opportunity for seduction is part of this. I even imagine that some people who make demon deals find fucking monsters to be a joy rather than a trial to avoid.
I can even admit that Bram himself is attractive. The wings are a bit overwhelming, and his skin doesn’t feel like a human’s, but it’s not unpleasant either. There’s a part of me that . . . No. I’m not going down that route. The only reason I’m here is to find answers about my mother, and I won’t discover those by bouncing on a gargoyle’s cock.
Though I have to play the game if I want him to let down his guard. That means allowing him to believe he has hope tonight so he won’t watch me too closely when it’s all said and done. By tomorrow, I’ll be gone.