The Myths of Ophelia (The Curse of Ophelia #4)

Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Ophelia

“What do you mean she can scent bloodlines?” I asked, not the least bit surprised Lancaster and Mora were in our cottage. The immortals’ presence swarmed the room.

Cypherion growled, knuckles white around his plate. “What the hell are you doing here?”

I didn’t turn, didn’t want to give Lancaster and Mora any advantage if we appeared disjointed, but from the corner of my eye, I saw Tolek place a hand on Cyph’s arm and mutter something low enough that I couldn’t hear.

The fae likely could, so I raised my voice and said with an air of perfectly cool control, “We prefer our guests to knock before they let themselves in.”

“Your voices carried into the yard.” Mora shrugged and floated over to the couch, perching on the arm of it. “It sounded as though you were busy,”

“Very helpful of you,” Rina deadpanned. She glowered at the female sitting dangerously close to her, but she didn’t so much as lean away, keeping her spine straight and attention poised.

Around the room, every warrior was braced for an attack. Plates slowly lowered to the table. Stances shifted.

If Lancaster noticed, he didn’t comment. He only looked at me, as if no one else had spoken, and said, “Much like I can create something of nothing and my sister can mask an appearance, Queen Ritalia has a unique gift—far rarer than either of ours.”

“She can sniff us out?” Tolek asked, skeptically.

“She can decipher where heritages merge along the course of the past. In our kind, she can scent powers before they’ve manifested to their full ability. It’s a blood gift, like tracking, as opposed to our creation-based ones.” Lancaster’s eyes landed on Santorina, an unquenchable thirst burning there. “My queen can trace those alive today back to those she was once in the presence of.”

Santorina didn’t fidget under his stare, but tension crackled between them.

“You so much as flinch toward her,” I threatened, “and I can count at least nine blades that will pierce your gut before you take a step.”

Lancaster’s jaw ticked, but he ignored me. “I am sorry for the outburst.” The words almost sounded pained. “I did not intend to cause you any harm. It is a long story, for another time, but I mean no ill will to the Bounties, nor to you.”

I held my breath, watching Rina as she swallowed. “You touch me, and my blade will be the first of the nine Ophelia counted. And I cannot promise it will only land in your gut.”

“I am inclined to believe you.” Lancaster grimaced, canines gleaming. In return, Rina offered a slight nod. Silence stretched between the two of them, lengthy and weighted with their temporary truce.

“How exactly does Ritalia’s magic work?” Malakai asked, pulling us all back to the topic at hand.

“As I’m sure you can imagine, a power as subtle yet expository as the queen’s can be imperative in the political world.” Lancaster crossed his arms with smooth grace, leaning against the arched doorway into the sitting room. “It offers promise to your own bloodline and a threat to your enemies’ secrets.”

“Ritalia used her scenting to ascend the throne and ward off any competitors with threats of exposing their sordid pasts or magic they kept hidden,” Tolek said.

Lancaster and Mora were silent, which was answer enough. The queen had spoken in riddles yesterday; I wondered if any related to her power.

“Why was she so unnerved by Cypherion’s arrival?” I asked, exchanging a glance with my stone-faced Second. “Did she scent something within him?”

Get your cousin out of here , she’d yelled.

Lancaster sighed as if exasperated by our questions. “You warriors do not understand how much of your world is prophecy to ours.”

I straightened. “What does that mean?”

“It means they know a lot of shiny secrets about us,” Tolek said.

Lancaster’s gaze cut to Cypherion. “Did your mother or father ever tell you where your name originated?”

“My mother didn’t.” He shook his head. “I never knew my father.”

Lancaster looked between Cypherion and Malakai, as if putting a new piece of the puzzle together. His throat bobbed. “I see.”

“Regardless,” Mora said, reclining against the cushions, “the name Cypherion is actually from an ancient fae tongue that’s been lost to time.”

Cypherion blinked at her. “My parents weren’t fae.”

“Over many centuries, the name has been adopted by warrior kind,” Lancaster explained. “Now it is a reference to the conduits of magic in your land. In the closest literal translation, it means of the cyphers . The ones that have grown since the dawn of the world, but that were changed when the treaty was signed between fae and warriors.”

“Changed how?” I asked.

“A sorcia enchanted the earth of Gallantia to reject fae spirits. The magic is rooted in the cypher trees.”

“Reject fae spirits?” Jezebel echoed. “How are you here now?”

“We are allowed to walk on this land. Though the treaty specifies otherwise, magic of any kind does not prohibit that. But if a fae dies on warrior land, our spirits never find rest as yours do. Your Soulguiders cannot guide us home.”

“That’s true,” Erista said. “We’re always taught we can guide warriors, humans, and other creatures of Gallantia, but not the fae.” Her brows scrunched. “I never knew it was because of the cyphers.”

“It is a guardrail of the treaty—one of many.” Lancaster shifted, leaning against the wall with a forced casualness. “To keep us in line.”

“To keep you from launching an attack on Gallantia that would end in deaths on both sides,” I elaborated. “Because the souls of the fae killed here would never find rest.”

“What does this have to do with me though?” Cypherion crossed his arms, likely stifling his impatience with the fae. “It’s only a name based on a tree.”

Mora pushed upright and answered, her tone grave, “There is a fae prophecy given to our queen upon her ascension to the throne. She had a grand coronation, with all varieties of attendees. One carried the power of predictions in his veins, and when she asked for a reading of the future, he said: He who is named for the trees will be the downfall of the royal bloodline .”

“Ritalia heard you all say his name when he arrived and believed him the fulfiller of the prophecy, thus leading to her directive to remove him from her presence immediately.” Lancaster looked between Cypherion and Malakai again. “She assumed you two already knew of your familial ties and would not have expected to be revealing such secrets.”

Malakai and Cypherion both ignored that, the latter skeptically asking, “So I’m destined to kill the queen?”

Mora shrugged, her long brown curls swaying around her ample frame. “The problem with prophecies is they do not appreciate specificity.”

I laughed. That was surely true.

“The young queen did not properly seal the request,” Lancaster explained. “It was vague enough that the one who delivered the prophecy did not clarify which royal bloodline.”

Cypherion asked, “The queen wants me dead, then?”

“She wants you watched. There were other parameters to the prophecy—for our kind, they operate similarly to a bargain. One cannot attempt to change the fate if they have been reckless enough to ask for it.”

“That’s cruel,” Santorina said, voice low.

“It is our way,” Lancaster gritted out.

“To be forced to live with knowledge of the future and let it taunt you?” she asked.

“If one does not wish to know what awaits, one can demonstrate enough control to not ask at all.” Lancaster and Rina glared at each other.

“It’s like Soulguider visions.” Jezebel sliced through their debate, exchanging a look with her partner. “Except Soulguiders don’t have a choice in receiving them.”

I’d often wondered how it would feel to have access to Soulguider or Starsearcher magic, where the ends of lives or twists of fate were bluntly thrown into your path. And Soulguiders couldn’t even disclose what they’d seen.

My heart ached for Erista and my grandmother, a bit of longing to know that side of myself better creeping in. I shook it away for now, though.

“How are you able to tell us this?” I asked Lancaster and Mora. “Won’t Ritalia have your throats for exposing these secrets?”

“It is a show of good faith,” the male replied. “In exchange for what she requested of you yesterday.”

The emblems. Not a chance in the Angel-guarded realm would I simply hand them over to her because she asked, made a bargain, or revealed some secret that could be her own downfall. Truthfully, I found it a bit desperate and shortsighted of her to do so.

But Ritalia had been a queen for millennia. She understood the stakes. If she’d made this decision, there had to be more to the puzzle than I was seeing. It was best to keep the fae close while we figured it out and give them something in return to appease this partnership.

My head whirled with the possibilities. A warm hand braced my lower back, and I summoned some steadiness from Tolek, picking apart warrior secrets to decide what I could disclose to the fae.

“We have been hunting the Angel emblems. We don’t have them all, yet, and I am not comfortable making any binding agreements on their fate until more is known. We will however consider working with you in this open exchange, so long as Ritalia holds true to the bargains she made on the isle.”

Lancaster nodded. “There are two left?”

“Yes,” I said. No use attempting to lie when they’d seen me wield them against Kakias, but I didn’t know if they understood the weight of the power I commanded from those emblems now.

“I have something that can assist with the sixth,” Cypherion said. He took the stairs two at a time, returning with a stack of worn scrolls.

“These are from Titus. When he…” His words choked off.

And I saw it, then. The fissures he’d been fighting ever since he arrived at the isle, frantic and tortured. The ones he hadn’t allowed himself time to express in his own panic.

Cypherion’s fists clenched against the table, I imagined itching for a fight to give him some sense of power back.

I’d been waiting to ask. Waiting until he brought it up. But he was on the verge of shattering.

“Cypherion,” I said softly. “What happened to Vale?”

His eyes glazed over as he stared at the sealed scrolls. “We went to Lumin first. I entered a fight, got us information that sent us to the city archives in Valyn. She shouldn’t have gone there. Shouldn’t have had to. Both of those cities are hard for her, but Valyn—Titus?—”

His words broke off with a grimace. He looked like he couldn’t keep speaking, too much rage tunneling through him. So, we helped.

“What happened when you got to Valyn?” Tolek asked carefully. “Did you go to the archives?”

“We did, and something came over her. The reading was”—his jaw ticked—“worse than ever.”

I gave him a moment, then asked, “Did Titus know you were there?”

Cypherion nodded. “But we didn’t know he knew.”

My skin chilled. We hadn’t been certain Titus was dangerous, only that he seemed to have ulterior motives for instructing Vale to lie to us. But now, with how disgusted Cypherion looked, it was clear we’d been wrong.

“Titus doesn’t have any magic,” Cypherion reported, mutters echoing around the room. “His fate tie barely exists, and he’s never successfully conducted a reading. Even Vale didn’t know.”

Cyph looked at me, but I only blinked in response. Titus didn’t what? “That’s why he claimed what Vale read in Damenal as his own,” I murmured. Vale had read of destruction and darkness across Gallantia—saw me entwined with it—and the chancellor had announced it as his own session. We only found out the truth during the Battle of Damenal, but…Spirits, how did Titus even hold his title?

Cypherion confirmed, “Titus has been using Vale’s readings ever since he found out she was in the Lumin Temple when she was a girl and he rescued her.”

He sneered that word, and the complications beneath the surface of Vale’s past bubbled up, my own rage with them.

“He wasn’t rescuing her at all,” Cypherion said, leaning on his fists. His head dropped. “And now she’s back there. In that manor she was so terrified of. The cage locked again.”

“How did he get her?” Malakai asked. He and Tolek stood on either side of Cyph.

“He ambushed us, took us both back to his manor, and then presented a trade.”

“What kind of trade?” I narrowed my eyes.

“Apparently the chancellor has an inkling of where Valyrie’s emblem might be.” He waved a hand at the scrolls. “These contain readings back to the Angel herself. He offered them in exchange for Vale staying with him. He claims he’ll help her heal her readings despite the fact that he abandoned her for months,” he growled those last words. “I’m sure that’s a lie, as well.”

“Why did Vale stay?” I asked, voice soft.

When I met Cypherion’s eyes, self-loathing stared back. “Because she wants to help us. Because she cares.”

Because Vale had been isolated for so long, and we’d begun to show her a bit of welcome. A bit of friendship. Maybe not after first learning of her deceit, but as time had passed and the waters began to clear, we understood that hadn’t been her fault.

“She stayed for us,” I muttered, my heart cracking wide for the Starsearcher.

“Then we’ll get her back,” Tolek swore, and around the room agreement echoed.

“Damn right we will.” Cypherion’s voice was laced with a brutal promise. One that said he’d walk through Bant’s Blackfyre and burn with the stars to return to her.

“There’s another reason she stayed,” he added. “The bastard bound them together. That tattoo on her brand? The ink is imbued so she’ll feel an inexplicable loyalty to him.” Haunted memories dulled his eyes.

“Are you saying even if we get to her, she won’t come?” Santorina asked.

“She’ll want to if she thinks we no longer need Titus to work with us for the emblems. But she’ll always feel this draw to him.”

My skin prickled as I sensed where he was heading. “Unless…”

“Unless he dies and the magic in the tattoo breaks.”

Silence hung over the room, thick and treasonous. Malakai asked bluntly, “Are you going to kill Titus?”

“I will if it comes to it.” There wasn’t a hint of mercy in his voice.

“And we’ll be there.” It was Mila who said it, twirling one of her gold cuffs around her wrist with vengeance shining in her eyes.

“Whatever it takes,” I promised Cypherion. “Let’s be smart about it, though. We don’t risk anything—Vale’s life or our own. We don’t know what Titus will resort to.”

“Can I ask,” Tolek began, and all gazes swiveled to him, “why Vale? She was only a child in that temple.”

Cypherion stiffened. “Starsearcher magic is dependent on their Fate ties—their connections to the eleven fates who convey readings to them. They’re all born with one, they discover it sometime before they come of age.” He swallowed. “Vale’s Fate ties are powerful . More so than any Starsearcher I’ve ever met.” He didn’t elaborate, and I exchanged a glance with Tolek and Malakai that said we all understood it was Vale’s secret to disclose.

Behind us, Lancaster and Mora whispered to each other. I spun around, raising my brows at them. The female said, “Powerful Fate alignments are not something even we would question.”

“And?” I asked.

Lancaster seared me with a gaze. “If the girl has that much promise, we will help rescue her however we can.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why?”

“Because it would be unwise to upset the gods at a time like this.” Lancaster gestured to the scrolls. “And it sounds as if it will lead to your next emblem.”

“And what if you come with us and something triggers your hunter side to wake again?” Tolek asked with a concerned look at Santorina.

“I swear on Aoiflyn, only Ritalia can unleash it as she did at dinner. Otherwise, it is simply a sense that allows me to find the Bounties.”

“I’m not a Bounty,” Santorina grumbled, but she perked up. “If you are going to come with us, you have to agree to assist Ophelia with intel on the gods and goddesses. I know some, but it has been of little help to us.”

I flashed Rina a grateful smile, and she returned it. Then, we both turned back to Lancaster and Mora.

The fae exchanged a glance, but if they were wondering why we were so curious about the deities, they didn’t say.

“You have yourselves a deal, Queen of Bounties,” Mora cooed.

“As unlikely an alliance as I ever expected,” Lancaster muttered, still watching Santorina.

“Cyph, do you have any idea how we can get Vale out of Titus’s grip?” Short of killing him , I didn’t add. I wasn’t against it, but the less chancellor blood on our hands, the better.

“I have a contact,” he said, avoiding our eyes. I glanced at Tol, but he shook his head, equally perplexed. “Someone within Titus’s manor who is helping form a plan that will either get us in or Vale out. Right now, though, we need to get back to Valyn.” Desperation piqued his voice, heightening my nerves.

“What about Barrett?” Malakai suggested.

“What about him?” I asked.

“With the fake partnership he and Celissia are staging, it might be an opportune time for a tour of the continent.” He shrugged. “Introducing her to leaders of various clans and cities, maybe?”

Mila continued, following his train of thought, “They can be in Valyn when we get Vale out, distracting Titus.”

It was a good idea, but I deferred to Cypherion. He rubbed a hand across his jaw, looking at the pile of scrolls. “If Barrett is willing, that could be a huge advantage.”

“Oh, I’m certain he’ll be willing,” Lyria chimed in, spinning one of her many small knives around her hand. “The king loves a worthy scheme, but he loves Vale more. The other night, when we were drinking, he went on about how they bonded in Damenal when she was a prisoner. How he’d go play cards with her when he couldn’t sleep.”

Cyph nodded, gratitude and sadness deepening his blue eyes.

Malakai clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll write to Barrett now,” he said and disappeared up the stairs with Mila.

“I guess we better open those and find out what Valyrie left behind,” Erista said, gesturing to the scrolls still sitting untouched in the center of the table, like everyone could feel the Angel’s echoing presence radiating from them.

“They look very old,” Santorina muttered, approaching as I carefully worked my finger under the first seal. Everyone cleared the plates and trays, breakfast forgotten, much to Jezebel’s dismay.

The aged scrolls radiated power, tugging at the strands of my Angellight. Searching almost, for one I did not have yet.

“They feel it as well,” I said.

“What do they feel like?” Tolek asked.

I weighed the first scroll again, biting my lip as I considered. “It’s not quite like an emblem,” I explained, selecting my words carefully. “Those call to me and beat, like a heart. These, though…” A wisp of a breeze danced along the back of my neck. “They whisper.”

I unrolled the scroll fully, being reverent with its weathered state. “I can tell from being near this that it’s tied to Angel magic, though not as potent as the emblems. It’s more like sprinkles of who once was.” I scanned the first paragraph, sighing.

“What is it?” Jezebel asked.

But I looked at Tolek. “You’ll only brag.”

He perked up, already scanning the parchment over my shoulder. “Excellent.”

“What?” Cypherion asked.

Tolek grinned smugly as he snatched the scroll. “It appears the Starsearcher Angel kept her records in her language.”

“It’s all written in Endasi,” I elaborated. “Which gives Tol the perfect opportunity to flaunt.”

“Believe me, I don’t need the excuse,” Tolek muttered. I rolled my eyes, carefully opening the next two scrolls and laying each lengthwise on the table, mystlight illuminating them. “I can’t translate it perfectly yet, so this will take me some time, but I’ve been working on it.”

“That’s amazing,” Lyria said, flashing her brother an impressed smile.

Tolek returned her grin with utter confidence. “Thank you. I know.”

I took the scroll he held and laid it beside the other two. “Can you translate the titles for us?”

Tolek laid a gentle, reverent finger on the first. His face sobered as he read. “This is an account of a reading Valyrie gave. One of her final ones, I’m guessing. The phrase doesn’t translate directly but mortos cus roughly means death is near.”

I shifted closer, scanning the unfamiliar words. “The Angels didn’t die, though.”

“Perhaps it’s means the end instead of death,” Mora chimed in, rising off the couch and joining the rest of us at the table.

“You can speak it?” I asked.

She shook her head, and I tried not to be surprised the fae was assisting us. “But I’ve learned ancient fae languages among others, and sometimes the interpretations of the oldest phrases are less accurate.”

“What’s the next say?” Lyria asked, watching her brother with an expression I couldn’t quite place.

“That one says something about a game or a race. Perhaps referencing training of her warriors?” Tolek drummed his fingers on the table as if unsatisfied with that answer and shifted his attention to the final scroll. After a moment, his eyes widened. “This one is about the Ascension.”

Tol leaned forward, and I followed. “Did Valyrie read the Ascension? Is that why they did it?”

“It’s written very carefully,” Tolek said. “As if in code.”

Across the table, pulling out a chair and dropping into it with his arms crossed, Cypherion grumbled impatiently. “The Angels can never make this easy, can they?”

“Where would the fun be in that?” Lyria quipped.

“We’ve got a long couple weeks of travel ahead of us,” I said, making eye contact with Cyph. “Plenty of time to work on translating these while we get Vale back.”

He nodded, desperation and determination burning in his stare. “We get her back.”