Page 19 of Vanquished Gods
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.
Holygods,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 andrunning 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 whatnotto 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 tomyself 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 whyyou arelying 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 fuckingthrivein 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.