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Until Valina Frejr.
We’ve had a fragile peace over the last few hundred years. Anderkanians grudgingly signed a treaty agreeing to witches’ rights, but I prefer to stay away from their prejudices. I have enough issues with Anderkanians at Five. I certainly don’t want to deal with them on their territory.
They detest my family. That I don’t use magiks is irrelevant. To fanatics, my last name is reason enough to fear me—and to hurt me, when they can get away with it.
After a long trek through the halls, we finally reach the grand chapel.
It’s truly stunning, though I hate what it represents: thousands of years of persecution. The domed ceiling was painted by an old master, depicting gorgeous figures in a fight against grotesque demons. The symbolism isn’t hard to decipher: these were supposed to be common mortals against the rest of us.
Fuck the Pillar.
The chapel is one of the only rooms large enough to hold all of the students of Five. It’s a real church of the Pillar, and the priory officiates every service for the practicing believers of Five—mostly Anderkanians.
I only come here when we’re summoned by the dean for lengthy speeches that put me to sleep.
Today, there’s complete silence, though almost every pew is occupied.
The altar is blanketed in flowers arranged around the framed picture of Blythe, who’s smiling at the camera. My gaze immediately slides to the man standing next to it. I can't help it. He is, after all, the most beautiful man alive.
Natheran Reiks. The future king of Anderkan. The dead girl’s fiancé.
CHAPTERTWO
THE KILLER
Natheran Reiks's hulking frame is all lean muscle, stretching at six foot six. He makes even me feel like a tiny little speck of dust, tall though I am. His cold silver-gray eyes shine with ethereal energy, betraying his roots. His ink-black hair is brushed back off his forehead, but one wayward curl falls to his eyes.
His beauty is ridiculous. His hypocrite of a father must have paid a witch to remove a wart or a stubbed toe when he was a babe. No one looks this perfect. Not even the demon of a king ruling over Ravelyn, though that boy is quite literally made for sin.
I hadn’t thought to feel sorry for him until now. Political alliances are often broken, ending in blood or treason. Hell, if someone had told me Reiks was behind Blythe’s early demise, I wouldn’t have blinked. Looking at him now, though? I’m not so sure.
Reiks and I have nothing in common, other than the fact that we both study in the main hall, away from the tower of magiks. I think he’s in his last year, working toward a second master, though I wouldn’t bet on it. I've never stopped to think about him. He's just another royal. In this place, they're like fungi, growing in the dark by the dozen—and just as rotten.
I’ve heard he likes to be called by his last name because his father’s name is also Natheran. If you ask me, he’s just throwing his family’s legacy into people’s faces by reminding everyone he’s a Reiks.TheReiks, who’ll soon rule one of the five mortal kingdoms.
On the rare occasions when I’ve seen him in the halls, his intense presence naturally commandeered my attention, the way only true leaders can. He holds himself with the confidence of a man who knows he could literally get away with murder. His word could raze or build cities.
Like anyone blessed with magiks, I can feel the mental strength of those around me. It’s an innateknowing, like that of any animal in a room full of predators. I can recognize those I should stay away from.
Reiks’s mind is potent. Its weight feels like the might of a dozen men. He doesn’t technically have magiks—the Reikses have long sought to purge it out of their bloodlines, only marrying common mortals for generations, to appease the Pillar—but he might as well. The echo of power radiates from him.
Because of their origins, the Reikses are much stronger than commons, physically. They also live as long as any witch—which means hundreds of years, or until someone shoves a spear through their hearts. The latter tends to happen much sooner than the former. But because somewhere along their line, they’ve lost their ability tousemagiks, the Pillar’s fine with them.
Until today, I haven’t spared him more than a vaguely appreciative passing glance. He may be attractive—painfully so—but I like to pretend myself above such superficial concerns. I certainly know better than to lose my mind over a pretty pair of gray eyes in this place. Five is a den of vipers. I only pay attention to threats around me.
He didn’t qualify before. His mind used to be irrelevant. Concerned with school papers, debates, and the pretty girls batting their long lashes at him.
The man up there? Heisa threat. He is dangerous. He is on the warpath. His fury rolls in waves, coloring his aura with a tinge of fire. Which suggests that he might have cared for his fiancée, after all.
A shame, too. I hate that I have to sympathize.
Mar leads the way to the front of the room, barely pausing to nod at the shrine before striding up to Reiks.
My cousin inclines her head briefly—no Frejr bows, even to royalty. “Our condolences, Your Highness.” Mar presses her palm to her heart.
I mirror her gesture, in sync with my three other cousins.
“If there’s any way the clan can assist you in your search for the culprit, we will,” Mar announces.
