Vanquished Gods (Hallowed Games #2)

Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

W ith the ivory silk brushing over my body, I stalked through the hall, following Rowena. In so many parts of the castle, the imposing windows overlooked the sea, and it sparkled like dark, diamond-flecked silk under the sky.

“How long has Sion lived here?” I asked.

“Centuries ago, the Mormaer granted him this island for his services as a loyal vampire soldier. Then Sion made himself a king. In the old days, before the Tyrenians, it had always been its own kingdom, you know. Even if it is a small island.”

Rowena led me up to a soaring archway of dark stone and gestured for me to enter while she slipped into the shadows outside.

I crossed into a room with a round, open-air ceiling. Candelabras on the table cast off a warm light that danced over the faces of three men sitting at a round table—Sion, Maelor, and Percival. Beyond them, more arched windows overlooked the sea. With no glass in them, a briny breeze rushed in and kissed my skin, then wrapped around the towering stone columns that surrounded the room and stretched up to the sky.

Sion’s amber gaze locked on to the poppies in my hair. “I was hoping you’d like the flowers.”

Percival lifted his glass. “Elowen. I’m so glad you finally joined us.”

Standing in the shadows were three male thralls with cloths folded over their arms, waiting to serve us. As I approached the table, one of them hurried over and pulled my chair out for me, nervously muttering something about an Underworld Queen.

I sat in the high-backed, velvet-upholstered chair. “Just the four of us for dinner?”

“I like to keep my social engagements exclusive,” said Sion.

Maelor stroked his finger around the rim of his wineglass. Or, more likely, his blood-glass. “Sion wants you to start working with him tomorrow on honing your magic. He’s already been teaching Percival and some of the fire witches to use theirs.”

I lifted the wine glass to sniff it before I took a sip.

A smile ghosted over Sion’s lips. “That’s from one of the oldest vineyards in Aquitaine, in the Solair region. I wouldn’t waste any human blood on someone who didn’t appreciate it. And it was apparent to me the moment I saw you in the Thornwood Forest that you needed real food.”

I took a sip of my wine, letting the fruity flavor roll over my tongue, As I did, two servants bustled over to the table and slid plates of food before Percival and me: roasted pheasant, carrots, and buttery potatoes. My mouth watered, and I started cutting into the pheasant breast almost as soon as they’d set it down. The meat looked to have been cooked to absolute perfection, and the rosemary-flavored pheasant seemed to melt on my tongue.

Holy gods , I’d never tasted anything that good.

If they were feeding their thralls like this, then maybe it wasn’t one of the worst places to live as a human in Merthyn. There was no Order here, no Ravens, no holy terror. No pyres or witch-findings. Instead, the thralls had delicious food and running water, and all they had to do was give up their throats to the vampires every now and then. Truthfully, there were worse things in the kingdom.

I wanted to gorge on the food in front of me, but I had questions, too. I swallowed a mouthful of pheasant and potatoes, then washed it down with wine. “You’re not a witch, Sion. What makes you an expert at instructing witches in magic?”

Sion slouched in his chair and shrugged. “Most of the witches here have been hiding their magic. I have been wielding shadow magic like artists wield paint since the last Tyrenian emperor ruled this land. I am good at what I do, even if I’ve never used a wand.”

Maelor eyed me over the rim of his cup. “But mostly, it’s just his shocking level of self-confidence.”

I frowned. “So, why can’t Maelor teach me? He’s been using magic as long as you have.”

Sion cocked his head. “Because he’s a good example of what not to do with magic.”

Shadows slid through Maelor’s eyes, and I wondered if he was unleashing for a moment, until his expression softened again. He returned a wry smile. “Of course, Sion. I’m sure what the witches need is the guidance of a man who keeps twenty-six thralls in his own personal harem and yet is somehow still never satisfied. You and Bran say that you love to revel in pleasure, and perhaps he does. But you? I’m not sure you feel much of anything at all anymore. All the fucking and killing is just a desperate attempt to feel something after centuries of numbness, isn’t it?”

Tension crackled in the air.

I took a sip of my wine. “That many in your harem? How do you have time for your vampire king work?”

Sion shrugged, his eyes locked on Maelor. “That was an entire century ago. And in any case, at least I’m not lying to myself about what I am. While you drink your sad pigeon blood and refuse to fuck anyone and pray to the nonexistent Archon for forgiveness, I am doing what a vampire was created to do. I will make the most of eternal life. And that is why it wasn’t me or Bran who murdered thirty-two thralls in the winter garden. It was you, Maelor. And what, my sanctimonious friend, do you think will happen to our Underworld Queen and her death powers if she refuses to accept her magic the way you’ve tried to reject your gifts? All the wallowing in guilt hasn’t exactly worked out well for you, has it? The only difference between a man and a monster is the mind’s own reckoning. And that’s what makes you a monster, my friend.”

Shadows darkened the air around Maelor, and the air cooled. “But that is exactly why you are lying to yourself, Sion. We’ve been real monsters since the day the Mormaer brought us back from death, where we belonged. We belonged with death. I think the world would be better off if we all walked into the sun.”

Sion sighed. “The only monstrous thing here is you ruining every dinner party with your ‘we might as well all die’ bollocks. Life is chaos, and it always has been. Vampires like Bran and me plan to fucking thrive in the anarchy.”

My stomach tightened. Oh, gods . Why did they keep talking about Bran?

I needed a change of topic, and I glanced at Percival. My gaze snagged at the jagged scar on his forehead—the entire reason he was there. He’d nearly died in a jousting match and then realized it was better for his life and death to have meaning than to bleed out in a tiltyard for others’ amusement. It reminded me of what Sion had said. Maybe a soul was just our reason for living, and not everyone had one of those.

If Sion was to be believed, now Percival had a soul.

And me? I had Leo.

“So, what have you learned, then, from this great magic master, Percival?” I asked.

“He’s teaching me to modulate my fire power so I don’t lose control like I did in that tunnel. Remember when I nearly killed everyone?” The candlelight danced in his dark eyes.

I smiled at him. “Can you give us a demonstration?”

He nodded and inhaled deep. “Okay. Here we go.” He cast a nervous glance at Sion, then stared into the flames of a candelabra. The firelight glowed over his skin, and he seemed entranced by the flickering light.

As he stared, the candle flames grew taller, their fiery tongues rising and intertwining like lovers kissing. Percival raised a hand, his fingers tracing intricate patterns in the air. I watched, spellbound, as the flames coalesced, lifting from the candelabras into a blazing sphere of light. The fire took the shape of a majestic, plumed bird, its wings unfurling as it soared around the room. My mouth fell open in awe. I’d rarely seen open displays of magic before, and never one as beautiful as this.

“A phoenix,” I whispered.

In the air above us, the blazing creature soared, casting a haunting golden glow over the room.

The dancing light sparked off Sion’s honey-gold eyes. “Do you need me to consume it with my shadows? Or will you be able to put that out before it lights my castle on fire?”

Percival smiled as he stared up at his creation. “I can do it,” he whispered.

With a flick of his fingers, the blazing phoenix exploded into a shower of sparks, and the embers fluttered down, snuffing out into ash before they reached us.

Sion arched an eyebrow. “Good. We can use this to light the Order on fire.”

Percival nodded. “The problem is, my magic always runs out after a little while. I become depleted, shaky. Nauseated.”

Maelor nodded. “That’s how it works for everyone. Even vampires.”

Percival stared up at the luminous moon. “I believe these magical powers are a gift from the gods, not a curse from the Serpent.”

“If the gods exist,” said Sion.

“Some people say,” Percival went on, seeming to completely ignore the vampire king, “that the Archon was merely a sun god centuries ago, until the Tyrenians invaded. They only wanted one god, so they chose the one they thought the strongest. And the Serpent? He was the god of the underworld.” He met my gaze. “Sion showed me the place beneath this castle where, in the ancient days, they carved temples to the old gods. The vanquished gods. The goddess of night, the sun god, the war goddess, even the death god. The Serpent.”

At his words, a shudder rippled over my skin.

The moonlight shone off Sion’s rings as he lifted his chalice. “If the gods are real, they don’t seem to do much, do they? They’re not the ones down here making decisions. We’re the ones who will take down the Order, and we don’t exactly have much time to figure that out. And unfortunately for us, we’ve lost one of our best resources.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

Darkness bloomed around him. “Bran is our master of intelligence. The Order doesn’t yet know where we are, but it seems some among us are tempted by the allure of the riches the Order could grant. The Pater is hunting for us, sending out offers of money, land, and titles to anyone who will give them information. And when they learn we are here, they will try to slaughter us all in the daylight.”

I took a deep breath. “And you really believe I’m important? Percival’s magic seems more useful than mine. He could boil the sea and light their ships on fire before they get here. I can’t kill anyone unless I touch them.”

Percival grimaced. “I can’t boil the sea yet, but I did light that door on fire. I can ignite a blaze for almost a minute. And a witch I know named Cecily made a marvelous statue out of rock using her magic. It really is an incredible sculpture. She actually shaped the rocks out of thin air.”

Sion’s eyebrow quirked. “Great, maybe Cecily can convince the Order to lay down their weapons through the medium of stone sculpture, or if that fails, we could try interpretive dance.”

Percival shrugged. “In any case, I’m not the one the Keeper of Relics identified.”

Sion’s golden eyes pierced me. “It’s you we need, Elowen. And we start practicing tonight. In order to take down the Pater’s army, you will need to release your power from your body. A wave of death.”

“Do you really think I can do that without losing my mind?”

Sion cocked his head. “Losing your mind? How would anyone be able to tell?”

Twat.

Percival touched my arm. “Yes, I think you can learn. Magic is like anything else. It takes mastery.”

Sion stood. “Let’s go practice.”

My fingers tightened on my wineglass. “What do you want me to do, murder a bunch of thralls?”

His eyes danced. “No, we have Maelor for that. For you, I have something different in mind.”

Did I even want to know?