We reach the bottom of the hill in time. To my relief, Samel stops, concealed behind a tree rather than racing forward and forcing us to attack before I recover.
Silent as shadow, I join him, and drop on the floor, spent. I breathe in and out, forcing myself to slow it down in order to control the rhythm of my heart.
Without a word, the commander hands me a flask. I frown at him; I have water with me. I'm waiting before drinking so I don't puke it up. He takes it back, pressing it against his lips and taking a long swallow to show me it's safe. Reluctant to offend my new allies by declining some custom I don't know about, I do take it, and drink.
The moment the clear liquid crosses my lips, I feel all pain, all exhaustion, all heaviness lift and dissipate. I've never been more awake, more vibrant.
I blink. "What's that?" I murmur.
Samel tosses the flask to his knights. "A dangerous tool. Highly addictive, and harmful in greater doses. It's ambrosia. A recipe that belonged to the ancient gods. We only use it when in dire need. It tricks your mind into believing you're well. You aren't. It'll only work for a time."
I nod, understanding the peril in such a tool. But today, I don't care about the repercussions. All I ask is for that sip to fool me for the next hour.
Samel peeks behind the trunk of our tree. "I sense the presence of several. And considerable power."
I nod. It’s hard to miss.
I've only been in Violet's company once, and she was flanked by two gods back then. I don't know what her presence feels like. Yet, the aura I sense is somewhat familiar. And as Samel said, powerful.
"There'll be guards," I say. "I'll try to slip by them to get to her." The sooner I kill her, the sooner this will all be over. "Can you handle them?"
"I suppose that remains to be seen." The commander is matter-of-fact. He may die and he doesn't seem to care. Seelie might as well be another species, after all.
"Let's see, then."
To my relief, we don't race up the hill. We saunter, to draw the guards to us. And they come at us. A dozen humans rushing out of the immense tent. Lords, I'd guess, from their rich clothes and great swords. The three seelie knights raise their swords, ready for the onslaught. Leaving my sword at my side, I raise both arms instead. All men stop, then scream, then drop at my feet.
Samel lowers his arms. "Why, exactly, aren't you in the battlefield at the moment?"
I shrug. "A few of them, right in front of me, is easy. I can't engulf an entire army at once."
Humans are too weak to feed the Void, but sucking on them didn't cost me any energy either. And a good thing too: I know this is just the aperitif. The amount of power I sense radiating from the tent hasn't changed.
The next person coming out of the tent is a looming shadow that has haunted my nightmares these few years. A dark-haired immortal with a cruel beauty. In my dreams, I taste him again, and I can't let go. In my dreams, I kill him and lose myself in the process.
Samel steps forward, but I hold his sleeve. He's not ready to face him. None of us are.
I don't know why I didn't expect the gods to be here. I thought they would have taken Tenebris and returned to their empire. Why are they still at Violet's side? It doesn't make sense.
"Didn't I kill you once, little Vikus?" I ask.
He bares his white teeth. "You failed in this, as in all things, child."
I take one step forward. "Oh? The way I see it, I got my people out when you meant to kill or control them. For ten years, I kept them safe, and you failed to make Tenebris yours. I can't imagine your daddy took that well. Is that why you were banished, forced to babysit our little kingdom?"
I'm baiting him, because right now, I feel layers of shields around him. He needs to attack me; to do so, he'll have to lower his defenses.
"I'm exactly where I want to be," he replies, unbothered.
I tilt my head.
This continent was meant to be ours. When our kind grew tired of the old world and moved here, we were supposed to claim all of it, hence why it was called Alfheimr, home of the elven folk—the fae. But the immortals accompanying us took one look when we landed and decided they liked it. Their empire is built in their image, with all the entertainment, all the pleasures they require. I'm not surprised they want our land, if only because our magic makes it beautiful, abundant, rich. But immortals cannot be satisfied here in Tenebris. We don't worship them, we don't sacrifice in their name, we don't line up to participate in their orgies. Humans consider them gods—we know that the immortal descendants of the old gods aren't very different from us. More powerful, perhaps, but they can bleed and die just like the rest of us.
"Oh? Color me surprised. Tonight will be a full moon. Aren't you missing a hell of a party?"
His eyes narrow. He doesn't like that I know of their custom. And I'm right. He wants to be there, in his capital, gorging on wine, lust, and blood.
"Let me guess. Daddy dearest told you to remain here until you've gotten rid of me. He's too frightened to face me himself after last time and, well, you're expendable. You must have a sister or brother better suited to the throne."
