Page 76 of Lucifer's Mirror
“In mourning for me?” I ask.
“Who else? I thought I lost you forever, and yet here you are. You’ve given me hope, which is a powerful but dangerous thing. Now we just have to find a way to retrieve your memories. I have a few ideas, but first, breakfast. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Sit.”
I sit. “Where are the others?”
“Thanouq has taken Therion to visit some old friends—Therion leaves later today to go and help the slaves you freed. The prince has gone exploring—he has a lot to think about. I believe Zayne is still in bed.”
Sounds like Zayne. “And Winter?”
“Winter has taken herself off for a few days.”
“Will she be safe?”
“If she stays within the wards. And she needs some time alone to come to terms with the changes in her life. She’ll be back.”
I study Hecate as she talks. I’m fascinated by the change from last night. She busies herself around the kitchen, putting a kettle on the range and then various pots. She fetches crusty bread from the larder and butter from some sort of cooler. She cooks onions and mushrooms, adds eggs, and scrambles them. The smell is divine. Finally, she puts a mug of tea and a plate of eggs in front of me, and I help myself to bread and butter. I don’t talk as I eat, just savoring every mouthful. For some reason, food seems to taste better since all this began.
I’ve decided, sometime between waking and now, that I’m going to be optimistic about what’s going on. Things could be much worse. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to know stuff. Not directly about me, but about everyone else, too. As usual, I’m overflowing with questions. Finally, when I’ve cleared my plate, I pick up my tea and start. “I know you won’t tell me who I am, but can you tell me other things?”
“Such as?”
“Who everyone else is. I know some things—like Thanouq is heir to a throne here, but why do you call Khaosti a prince? Where is he prince of? How do you know his father, and why do you hate him? Does Lucifer actually exist? Was Khendril a prince as well—”
She laughs and holds up her hand. “Enough. You want to know everything?”
“Yes.”
“Unfortunately, we don’t have time for everything, but I can tell you some of the things you want to know. Khaosti is the youngest Prince of Astrali—the Astral Plane. Actually, he’s the only surviving prince, and hence, he’s also heir to the throne. You must have visited there briefly if you came through the mirrors.”
“The in-between place?”
“Yes. His father is Khronus. He’s been king of the Astrali for longer than anyone can remember.” Her expression hardens. “And I hate him because he’s a fucking arrogant murdering asshole.” The language takes me back a little, and she smiles. “It’s true.”
“Well, I suppose Khaosti has to get it from somewhere.”
She laughs at that, and then her expression turns serious. “Prince Khaosti is also Commander of the Wolfpack.”
“And that is?”
“The most bloodthirsty military unit ever to grace the Astral Plane. They suppress insurrection by doing whatever is necessary.”
“Khaosti seems young to be in command.”
“He joined the military when he was twelve and clearly showed a certain aptitude.” I’m guessing she means he was good at killing people. But twelve? He was a child. “He formed the Wolfpack when he was eighteen and became Commander of the whole army when he was twenty-one,” she adds, then studies me with a frown. “I sense an interest in the young prince.”
Interest? Does she mean as ininterest? “Hah. Never going to happen.” But I am curious. “And just how young is he?” I’d always thought he was maybe in his mid-twenties, a few years older than me, but not an undoable age difference. And I can’t believe I just thought that. I do not want todoKhaosti.
She considers her answer. “I believe Prince Khaosti was eleven when Khendril left, which would make him around twenty-seven now. A positive babe in Astrali terms, though I suspect he grew up fast and hard in that household. He’s been commanding the army for six years.”
“That’s probably how he got to be so bossy.”
She smiles. “No doubt. I gather he was close to his half-brother. I bet Khronus wasn’t pleased about that. He believes guardians should keep to their place, and that’s a lot lower down the food chain than princes. Khendril was much older, of course, more a father figure than a brother—I think he was around a hundred when he came to me. Khaosti was the one reason he baulked at helping me. He must have known he could never go back and that he would lose Khaosti forever. I didn’t realize that the feelings went both ways—I hadn’t thought a son of Khronus capable of the softer emotions.” She really does not like this Khronus guy. “He came here looking for Khendril; at least it shows the prince has some level of loyalty. Maybe there’s hope for him yet.”
“So who is he leading the army against?” I ask. “Is he fighting in this war you spoke of?”
“No, the Astrali don’t dirty themselves with our wars—even if they are responsible for them. There has been a civil war raging on Astrali for a thousand years. Not everyone agrees with the way Khronus does things. But he’s been in power so long that most of them know no different.”
“How old is Khronus?”
