Head held high, Ashe stepped through the threshold and found the most handsome elfirish man she’d ever laid eyes on waiting for her at the base of the stair.
The Fallen.
Anger threatened to bubble up and froth out of her in a wild rage. She wanted nothing more than to see the blood of this man erupt from his body like geysers. Every hardship in her life, every difficulty, every emotion was because of this man. She could almost savor the pride wafting from him.
“Brynn Benld,” the Fallen said loudly behind a great smile, clearly a show. Murmurs and whispers arose from those close by. The Fallen held out a hand, inviting her to descend. “You could’ve at least washed your face, child.”
“Go bugger yourself with the tip of a goblin bone sword.” Many of Drenth’s finest guests gasped, which brought a grin to Ashe’s face. “Some party you got here, Lu Har. Paid for in blood, I suspect. Maybe even your own bloodkin, eh? Does Canlon Carr ring a bell for you?” More whispers amongst the crowd.
Although many of the guests nearest the Fallen were paying attention to her upon the stairs, not all were. Pockets of partygoers conversed and laughed, downing wine like water. The singer continued her song, the music a stirring din. There were guards everywhere, though. A handful of scourges amongst them in their black firedrake scale cuirasses. For all the merriment, it felt more like a controlled atmosphere, almost like a theater amongst prisoners.
She scanned the mezzanine and spied Solanine on the opposite end of the dance floor, staring at her pensively. A tickle ran down her spine. Odd it was for the short aetheurgist to give her a chill instead of the presence of the Fallen. Perhaps it was the visions, perhaps just a sordid connection that pushed her down this path back at the Guilder’s villa.
Ashe noticed a shaggy-haired woman wearing a mask layered in ribbons of varying colors. The woman reared her head back in a laugh, hand placed at her breast as if the gaggle of nobleborn surrounding her had said the funniest thing in all the Mistlands. A row of golden teeth sparkled in the woman’s mouth.
Neenah LeFleur? Pulling yet another con, are you? Good luck getting off this rock.
Her gaze swept onward, stopping on a man and woman barely visible amongst the guests. Though masked and veiled respectively, the man stood out to her like a sore thumb, the woman clearly a bikrome. A mask resembling cracked marble, a fitting image of a broken piece of history. Even at this distance, she knew the man who was her father as he watched her silently, as if he was calculating her intent. Emre Benld gave her the barest of nods. Approval, it seemed.
“Back from the grave and already speaking ill of the dead,” Lu Har tsked. “A child never learns.”
“Then educate me,” she replied, raising her bangled hand, and realizing she couldn’t read the Fallen’s aura. Because he didn’t possess one. Something she’d never witnessed before. “Murderer,” she added for effect.
His hand extended again, this time she took it, placing the diamond eye into his palm. The Fallen towered over her, his crimson robe overlapped her pink train as he led her onto the dance floor. A lively refrain ensued as dozens of other couples joined them. All moved in perfect cadence, men led, women flowed effortlessly. Laughter and joy abound, casual and free. Auras a giddy yellow.
Except for the aura-less Fallen.
Ashe allowed him to lead, his hand upon her hip, holding the bangled one aloft. She knew the steps well, the dance a Kalderim specialty. The Scattered Shards had allowance for such hobbies, and truth told, Ashe did have a passion for the artistry of dance.
“You killed my parents. Why don’t we start there.”
He spun her under his raised arm, letting go of her waist as she was passed to the nearest man in accordance with the dance. Ashe stymied a groan as she twirled into the waiting arms of Prien Soabin. The ancient prick smiled broadly, while his wife—the pretty Isla—frowned as she danced with Lu Har.
“My Lady of Demrae,” the old bastard’s spotted hands groped at her. “How wonderful to see you again. Though I must admit you look… unwell. Ahem… I’ve been waiting for your brother to reach out about the trade lines he spoke of.”
“Sorry, Master Soabin, been a void of a week since your party,” she said demurely as the dance required the changing of partners again, this time she was paired off with some lanky man with peppered grey hair. The old Guilder winked at her, and she turned away in disgust but kept the false smile.
“Lies are but the truth of the unknowing,” Lu Har said as the partners exchanged again, back to the original couples. “You know nothing of which you think.”
“I know the truth.” He dipped her, her wet hair slapped against her bare neck. “Of what you are. Of what you did to Canlon Carr.”
“Trifles, child.” They did a full rotation, feet stepping in time, crossing flawlessly. A couple wearing matching masks with elongated beaks like a bird’s nearly bumped into them, both appearing intoxicated. The man apologized, but the Fallen ignored him. “What matters now is what blood flows within you. Eminence awaits us. Awaits you, Godsblood.”
The music shifted from the lively tune to one slower, more romantic. Some of the dancers took their leave of the floor while others pressed closer together. The vocalist’s voice started from a medium alto and gradually rose into a soprano as she sang a song of love. Isla Soabin stormed from the dance floor as the old prickly bugger appeared as if he was going to ask Ashe for the dance.
Lu Har’s hand moved to the small of her back and pulled her closer. The mere touch of his hand on her body disgusted her. Prien Soabin blanched before slithering away. “You’re an asset, Brynn Benld. Same as your father and mother before you.”
“You mean the day you destroyed my family? All for your failure to take Eminence?”
He glanced down his nose at her, the corners of his mouth tugging. “I see you’ve been speaking to Canlon.”
How does he know? “So, it’s true? All of it?”
“O Brynn, how the mind of a child manifests from a malleable pittance. A foundation built within, leading to this discovery of fate. Be pleased, child, for you have lived a life not shackled by your fate. Not all of us are given this gift.”
“My past was everything!” A few of the dancing couples looked at her. “You took everything from me.”
“The Pentax took that from you, not I. I am merely the tool. My Divine wants what He has been denied. The Seals await you. That is your destiny. Canlon was never strong enough to defy me.”
“Then why try to kill me? Twice.”
A tenseness overtook the Fallen’s jaw, his eyes flickered briefly toward Solanine, who still watched them like a hawk in flight over a field of mice. That wasn’t supposed to happen, was it?
“A tool is only as strong as the edge in which it’s sharpened.” His hand cupped her cheek. “Without a whetstone, you aren’t of use.”
The mist quirked. “You’ve not seen my true potential.” Her hand roamed from the Fallen’s arm down toward the slit in her dress, but Lu Har grabbed her wrist. He spun her and pulled the knife sheathed at her thigh, pocketing the blade Wren had tried to skewer her with.
“You disappoint me, child.”
“For that, I’m glad.”
The song ended, the couples parted and cheerfully clapped. The vocalist bowed to all the applause.
“Your place is beside me, Brynn Benld, as it has always been,” the Fallen said as he stepped away. “The gateway to the past has been opened to you. Your future is set. You cannot escape your fate. The Seals to Eminence will urge you toward them. It cannot be stopped. You feel it now, don’t you?”
“All I feel is the thrill of seeing you dead.” But before the words even left her mouth, she felt the tiniest of tugs within her, a tug toward the building she’d come from earlier. Even the mist seemed to prod her in that direction.
“That is the Seal of Terris,” he said knowingly. “It’s drawn to you. Seeks you. Try as you might, you will harness it and then break it.” With that, the Fallen turned heel and ghosted across the dance floor.
