Aric closed his eyes, drawing strength from Malekith’s touch. “And you, my prince, have a way of making me believe that anything is possible. Even peace between our worlds.”
Their foreheads remained pressed together, their breath mingling.
“Aric,” Malekith said, “I—”
But their moment of peace was shattered by the blare of a distant horn, an urgent summons that sent a chill through Aric’s veins. Malekith’s face went ashen, his eyes flicking toward the door. “We’ve overstayed our welcome. You must return to your cell at once.”
Aric’s heart sank as he realized their time together was coming to an end, perhaps sooner than they’d anticipated. He nodded, understanding the urgency in Malekith’s voice. As he turned to go, Malekith pulled him back, crushing him in a fierce embrace. Malekith’s heart pounded against his own, the tension radiating from his body.
“Be careful, my star,” Malekith whispered. “Listen for my voice, no matter what happens. Remember our bond.”
Aric nodded, and his eyes lidded, committing every detail of this moment to memory—the feel of Malekith’s arms around him, the scent of his skin, the sound of his ragged breath. “I will,” he promised.
Malekith’s fingers traced the sigil on Aric’s back, the symbol of their magical connection. “This will be our safeguard. If all else fails, follow my voice, and it will guide you back to me.”
Aric emerged from the secret passage, his mind reeling from everything that had transpired. As he made his way through Drindal, the town took on a new aspect. The crumbling buildings and war-torn streets spoke of a conflict that had raged for far too long. Yet now, Aric saw more than just the scars of battle. He saw the potential for healing, for a future where demons and humans could coexist. It was a fragile hope, but one he clung to fiercely.
A flicker of movement caught his eye. Aric turned, his senses suddenly on high alert. There, in the shadows between two dilapidated structures, a cloaked figure stood watching him. The hood obscured their features, but Aric felt the their stares like a physical touch.
His heart raced. Friend or foe? Ally or threat? In this precarious game of politics and power, it was impossible to know. Aric took a step toward the figure, his hand instinctively reaching for magic that wasn’t there.
But before he could close the distance or call out, the figure melted into the shadows. One moment they were there, a solid presence radiating intent, and the next they were gone, leaving nothing but questions in their wake.
Seventeen
As they dragged him up the steps of the town hall, Aric’s mind was a chaotic jumble of thoughts. Was this part of their plan, or had something gone horribly wrong? Malekith’s expression had been inscrutable as the guards hauled Aric away, leaving no clues for him to grasp onto. Had their ruse been uncovered? Or was this some new twist in the game he was playing with Vizra and the other members of the demon court?
The guards threw open the doors, and a wave of hot, fetid air washed over Aric as they entered the grand hall. The stench of demon bodies packed into the space, thick with sweat and smoke and something cloyingly sweet that turned Aric’s stomach. His head was pounding from the noxious fumes that lingered in the dungeons, and he felt unsteady on his feet as the guards thrust him forward.
Sovereign Zaxos sat on the throne at the far end of the hall, his obsidian skin glinting in the torchlight. His eyes were like molten gold as he stared down at Aric, and a shiver ran down Aric’s spine at the raw power in that gaze. Zaxos said nothing, but the guards fell to their knees and pushed Aric forward, forcing him to his knees as well.
“Human,” Zaxos rumbled. “You have completed the first two trials set before you. You have shown that you possess a rare gift for magic, and that you are willing to use it to protect your people, even at great cost to yourself.”
Aric nodded, unsure of what was being asked of him. He had a sinking feeling that he wasn’t going to like the answer.
“But there is one more trial you must face. A trial of loyalty. A test to determine where your true allegiance lies.”
Aric’s heart was pounding in his ears, his breath coming fast and shallow. He had a terrible feeling he knew what was coming, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words.
“You will be presented with a choice,” Zaxos said, his voice echoing through the vast chamber. “A choice that will test the very limits of your loyalty to your kind. Two chambers, one filled with demon children, the other with human prisoners. Both chambers are rapidly filling with magical fire that only you can dispel. You must choose which group to save. The other will perish.”
The words hit Aric like a physical blow, and he swayed on his knees. If he saved the demon children, he would be betraying his own kind, dooming the humans to a fiery death. But if he saved the humans, he would be turning his back on everything he had ever fought for, consigning the demon children to the same fate.
“Please,” Aric said, the word tearing out of him on a sob. “There has to be another way. I’ll do anything else, face any other trial, but I can’t—”
Aric’s words dried up in his throat. There was no negotiating with that look, no pleading or bargaining with the supreme ruler of the demon realm.
“Choose,” Zaxos said.
Aric’s heart was racing, his mind a whirl of panic. The choice Zaxos presented him with was impossible. He couldn’t save them both. He couldn’t save anyone.
But as he looked around the chamber, a new thought began to form in the back of his mind. A feeling, a hunch. There was something off about this. The way Vizra was smiling, like a cat toying with its prey. The cold glint in Sylthris’s eyes, like she was daring him to see through her.
And then he saw it, out of the corner of his eye. A flicker of something, a distortion in the air. It was gone before he could be sure of what he’d seen, but it set his teeth on edge. He was a fool to trust his senses in a chamber full of demons and their tricks, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was an illusion at play here, a deception he couldn’t yet unravel.
He had no idea what that was. Not yet. The pieces were there, but they refused to fit together. All he knew for certain was that this trial had something to do with the recent escalation of demon attacks. It was no coincidence that the attacks had grown more brazen just as he was returning to the town with Malekith. And the assassins who had tried to kill him in his chambers, the ones who had mysteriously vanished when Malekith raised the alarm—he was sure they were connected as well. But how, and why, and who was really pulling the strings? Those were the answers that remained frustratingly out of his reach.
He forced himself to his feet, his muscles coiling with tension. Outwardly, he appeared calm, composed. Inwardly, he was a storm of doubts and fears and questions. He had to tread carefully here, had to play the game that Vizra and Sylthris and the others were so adept at. He needed more information, more clues. And if that meant going along with the demons’ sadistic game for a little while longer, then so be it.
“If I am to face this trial,” he said, his voice steady, “then I would ask for the chance to examine the chambers where the children are held. To better understand the nature of the magic that binds them, and how I might counter it.”
Zaxos’s eyes narrowed, but after a moment, he nodded. “You may examine the chambers. But be warned, human. The time for games is over. You will make your choice, and soon.”
“Of course, sovereign.” Aric bowed his head, and then turned to the guards. “If you would be so kind as to show me to the chambers?”
The guards glared at him, their hatred for his kind burning in their eyes. But they were loyal to their sovereign, and so with a curt gesture, they led Aric to the doors at the back of the hall, where the chambers were waiting.
As he walked, Aric’s mind raced. The clues were there, he was sure of it. He just had to find them, unravel the illusions that bound them up. His fingers itched with the memory of the spell he’d cast, the threads of magic he’d unravelled, then re-knit together. He scanned the corridor for any signs of illusion, of trickery, but it appeared to be solid, real.
Too real, perhaps. If the chambers were an illusion, then it was a masterful one, one that fooled all the senses. But there were ways to pierce the veil, to expose the lie. He just had to be patient.
He reached the doors and nodded to the guards, and with a hiss of stone on stone, the doors swung open, revealing the two chambers beyond. One was filled with human prisoners, their eyes wide with terror as the flames rose higher, the heat of them scorching Aric’s face. The other was filled with demon children, their skin already blistering, their screams echoing in the chamber.
He closed his eyes, refusing to look, to see their suffering. Instead, he focused on the sensation of the magic around him. He reached out with his senses, searching for the same threads of illusion that he’d felt in the grand hall, but the magic here was different. It was a more subtle weave, one that he couldn’t unpick so easily. But it was there, he was sure of it. An undercurrent of darkness, a wrongness that he couldn’t yet name.
The guards watched him, their eyes hard, daring him to make a move. But Aric held himself perfectly still, even as his thoughts raced. All he had to do was puncture the illusion, and the truth would be revealed. The truth that would answer the questions burning in his mind, and, just maybe, lead him one step closer to the solution of this deadly puzzle.
“I will save them both.”
