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Chapter 10
Zeph
I've barely seen Himureal since he tasted my blood. I'm not sure what he saw in it, but whatever it was, he didn't kill me, so it couldn't have been too terrible. I'm tearing my office apart again, searching fruitlessly for the journal of the last high priest of winter. Viola says we need it if we're going to be successful and that Mace said it was here, so every spare moment I've had, I've been going through this place with a fine-toothed comb. But still, nothing is revealing itself to me.
My head is buried in one of the desk drawers when a cool breeze causes the hair on the back of my neck to stand up. I whip up to lock eyes with the Frostweaver. His clear blue eyes are narrowed on me. I clear my throat. "Frostweaver."
"High priest," he responds, floating into the chair opposite me. His long, white hair is pulled back in a single braid down his back, and he's wearing a pair of black wrapped trousers with a crimson sleeveless tunic covering his upper body—a brutally beautiful God of blood and shadows. "Looking for something?"
I nod, pulling open the smaller center drawer of my desk. I reach in, pretending to be searching for something. My hand hits the base of it, and it thunks, a hollow sound that nearly makes mesuck in a breath.
Is that what I think it is? Could that be a hollow bottom?
Quickly, I pull out an intricate pen that I immediately recognize as my father's. "Here it is. I knew Mace took this!" Himureal gives me a curious look, and I shrug. "My father was also head of the Patricians and he used this pen when he'd sign new laws into effect. I knew Mace had it, but I could never find it."
It's not a lie. I spent years after my father died looking for this pen. Mace swore up and down he didn't have it. I slip it into my pocket.
"How can I help you today, Frostweaver?" I ask, forcing sincerity into my voice.
He hums, steepling his fingers. "Today, I am going to bring Viola to Kon. He has been visiting her the past few days, and I think he has sufficiently riled her up enough. She seems eager to put him down and seek revenge for her parents."
My eyebrows raise. "She's going to be out of jail now?" I try to hide the eagerness in my voice. "She's finally on our side?"
"That I am not so sure. I am hoping this taste of freedom I will allow her will be the final push she needs. Once she is willing to dedicate herself to me and let me taste her blood, I think then we will let her out."
It's everything I can do not to laugh. The idea of Viola letting him taste her blood is impossible to believe. If that's what he's waiting on, he will be dust before it happens. "Brilliant plan, my God."
He preens under my praise, unable to discern how false it is. "Ithink so, too." He stretches his long legs out, sinking down a bit into the chair and making himself comfortable. "After all, tasting your blood was so illuminating."
My shoulders stiffen.
Fuck.
I knew this was coming. I knew he'd see that my loyalty was not with him but with her. Is this it? Is he going to strike me down here before I have the chance to make up with Mace?
"Your desire to protect and care for me as the God of Winter was so strong that I could almost believe you do have the draw," he hums, smiling softly at me. "I am very impressed by you, Zeph. You have grown into your title beautifully. I am glad we made our arrangement all those weeks ago. It has been very beneficial to both of us."
My stomach drops out. That's what he saw? A desire to protect the God of Winter?
The magic that created the draw within me protected me from his probing. That's the only explanation I can think of. A coil of snakes that had taken up residence in my stomach loosen at his words. "Thank you, Frostweaver. I appreciate all of the opportunity you have afforded me." I bow my head, making my voice as deferential as I can.
He rises to his feet, pushing back from the desk as he does so. "We will have a long history together, you and I. And with Viola between us, we will be unstoppable."
The moment he is out of eyesight, I rip the center drawer of the desk open and dig my fingers into the sides. Eventually,after my nails crack and break, I gain purchase on the slim edge and am able to yank up. Underneath the false bottom is a small leather notebook, its pages yellowed with age. On the front, a snowflake is branded directly into the cover. I gingerly pick it up, my hands shaking.
Opening the cover gently, I flip through the pages to confirm what I already knew: This is the journal of the last high priest of winter, and this is what I have been looking for.
I shove it into my pocket and rocket out the door in search of Cirrha.
"Zeph!" Cirrha shrieks as I tumble into her office and slam the door behind her. She's got paperwork strewn all around her desk, the back end of a pen shoved between her lips as she chews on it.
"It's time," I say, hand on my side to catch my breath. "Himureal is going to get Viola and bring her to Kon. If we're going to send the message and get her out, it's now."
She pushes to her feet, "Well, fuck, we better hurry."
The Tempest pushes past me, the silk of her pink jumpsuit brushing my arm and pebbling my skin with the sensation. The winner's village is roughly a four-hour walk from Ytopie, and its location was always kept secret. The story pushed was that it protected the humans from the fae, but really, it protected the fae from knowing the truth.
There have not and never will be, humans living within the village.
