Chapter Five

I can’t decide which is more gorgeous, the two males before me or the House of Twilight.

I sit at the dining table, hands clasped tightly in my lap, feeling utterly out of place amidst the opulent surroundings of the House of Twilight. Vienna had insisted I join her and two others for dinner, promising safety and care. But as I glance nervously at the two figures seated across from me, I can’t shake the unease twisting in the pit of my stomach.

The twins occupy the space between the silver candelabras of the dining room like legendary myths. They’re infamous for their manipulation of shadows, the Spymasters of the House of Twilight. Fiercely loyal to the Midnight King, they wear more weapons than clothing, their tattooed and muscular arms on full display. Both bear piercing eyes of violet, the only difference one of them has half his shoulder-length jet-black hair shaved.

The table before us is set with exquisite china and gleaming silverware, a testament to the wealth and power of the inhabitants. Beyond the windows, I catch glimpses of what could be a sprawling city, its twinkling lights like stars scattered across the night sky. Despite Vienna's efforts to make me feel welcome, I can’t help but feel like a lamb being led to slaughter.

Figuratively and literally.

Vienna glides over to my side, her smile warm and inviting. "This is Kallias," she says, indicating the one with the half-shaved head, "and Rhodes."

I force a small smile in return, though my heart continues to race with apprehension. I can’t find my voice. Not after Xaden and the screams.

“Welcome,” Kallias inclines his head in greeting, the violet eyes assessing me with a mixture of curiosity and something else, something darker that sends a shiver down my spine. Rhodes, on the other hand, remains silent, his expression inscrutable as he regards me with a penetrating gaze.

I offer the twins a hesitant nod in return, feeling like a mouse caught in the gaze of two hungry predators.

“What the hell happened to her?” Kallias asks Vienna when I don’t respond.

Vienna doesn’t even bother to hide her disgust. “Xaden.”

Rhodes snorts into his wine, Kallias offers me a warm smile. “Xaden is a fucking asshole,” the nicer twin assures me, then leans back, looks me up and down, and smirks. “Pretty little girls like you’d do better to keep me company.”

Vienna smacks the back of his head. Warmth runs through me–humor even. And for the first time since coming here, I feel something other than fear.

My voice is barely a whisper, but I find it nonetheless. “What Xaden did to me is nothing compared to your High Lord killing my sister.”

Kallias’s face drops ever so slightly. If any of these males have a heart, it’s him. “Keiran did what?”

Kieran.

I've never met a male brave enough to utter his true name.

Just as quickly as the spark of flirtation and life was there, it’s gone. And suddenly I’m back in my mother's throne room, Reiyna bleeding out before me. It takes a moment for me to still my heart.

“P-please,” tears prick at the corner of my eyes again, “I just want to go home.”

The King’s Inner Circle’s responses are measured, their expressions inscrutable as they exchange a glance laden with unspoken meaning. I can’t shake the feeling that they know more than they are letting on, that there are secrets lurking behind their guarded facades.

"Rest assured, you are safe here," Kallias reassures me, though the look on his brother's face does little to ease my fear.

He’s lying. They’re all lying.

But Not Rhodes. He speaks for the first time all evening to grant me a slice of truth.

“You’re not fucking safe," the twin's voice is lower than I expected. "If you run, I will hunt you, and if I catch you, I will kill you.”

“Try and eat something,” Vienna says slowly, eyeing me as if I might suddenly throw myself out the open-aired windows and down the mountain cliff. Rhodes is looking at me like he might throw me off himself. “The witches come in ten days time.”

Ten days. Is that all I have to live?

Kallias watches me with a dark intensity. He called for me earlier and asked to take me out and play. Perhaps if he and his twin won’t take mercy on me, the Spymasters will at least grant me information.

I hold his stare until he opens his mouth. His voice is measured and calm. “What do you know about witches?”

What do I know? Vienna had asked me the same question hours earlier. It’s as if they can’t speak of it on their own like I must guess what the witches want.

I scoop a generous portion of mashed potatoes onto my plate with a shaking hand. When I drop my fork, everyone takes notice. Especially Rhodes. “Only a nightmare of the Midnight King, that he stole magic from the lands and lives in a land barren and cold. Although,” a green bean salad coated in mint, “it does not feel very cold here.”

Vienna and Kallias exchange a look. Rhodes sharpens a blade.

Kallias raises a scarred brow. He’s interested in me, interested in getting to know me. I have to use his attention to my advantage.

“The House is protected in charms, just the same as your room,” he explains, leaning forward and pulling the silver serving fork from my hand with an expressionless gaze. His skin brushes against mine, I don’t shy away. “The windows are wide and open, but only what we choose to bring is let in.”

I take a deep breath of that soft breeze. Jasmine. It smells of him. Neither the spymasters nor the Pirate miss how a blush creeps onto my cheeks at the memory. Of the Midnight King, of how his fingers brushed against my lips.

When I return to the present moment, Kallias is grinning.

Yes, Kallias is interested.

“P-please,” I lean forward in my seat, “tell me what he wants from me.”

The six-foot-seven, violet-eyed spymaster leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. I’ve hit a wall with him, for whatever reason, I do not know.

Vienna shoots me a look, offering an explanation. “The stories your people tell are wrong,” she spears arugula salad onto her fork. “It’s not our King who wants something from you, it’s the witches. The Offering is something we must complete for them.”

I furrow my brows. “The King must complete this for the witches? I thought he was the most powerful High Lord.”

Another look between Kallias and Vienna. Rhodes seems to be wildly interested in the veins of my neck.

Kallias leans forward, propping his tanned elbows on the black marble table. “The witches are the only ones who can transfer the magic from blood to sustenance. Our King is just as reliant on him as they are you.”

Ten days to live. Ten days to escape.

I lean in, growing more impatient. “But why do you need me? I stole nothing from your people or lands.”

The moonstone pillars surrounding us echo as Rhodes sharpens his knife once more. I jump from my seat at the noise.

Vienna seems tasked with being the one to break the news. “The fairy tales you know of our king are wrong,” gods above, she’s regarding me like a wounded bird, “The childhood story tells of your ancestor coming to our lands and picking a flower, correct?”

I nod. I know the tale.

“Well, your ancestor did more than pick the flower,” Vienna looks more uncomfortable than ever, “to ensure it couldn’t be stolen by our enemies, they…ingested it.”

Panic at this point is a familiar companion. It hits the back of my neck and stiffens my shoulders. Ingested it. That would mean my connection to my ancestor…I look down to my bare wrists, the blue veins are more prominent from lack of sleep and stress. The magic is passed down in generations. The magic is in my blood.

What the Midnight King seeks, what the most powerful High Lord of centuries needs to restore his glory, is fucking inside me.

I feel faint.

There’s a part of me that switches to logic. Think Remi, what would Reiyna do? How would they fight? How would they negotiate? Barter?

But the more real part of me is gone with the jasmine-infused wind. My vision is all white. All black. And before I can I think, before I can strategize, calm, and collect like a low tide river, I lift my steak knife and stab it into Rhode's hand.

The whole world goes silent. The birds, the mountain, even the wind, too.

“Rhodes,” a familiar voice warns. I’m too far gone among the clouds to even register whose it is. What I just did. “The Offering is in shock.”

If Rhodes looks like he was going to kill me before…this level of hatred…it’s something new. I’ve heard the legends of these twins. Of Rhodes, the infamous Bounty Hunter who once won against ten thousand men with just his bare hands. How he has a proclivity for ripping out his victims beating raw hearts.

The Bounty Hunter’s voice is all edges. “Vienna, get her away from me.”

My eyes go straight to the redhead who I can tell is struggling to keep composed. Vienna opens her mouth, but another speaks.

“You’ll have to excuse my brother,” Kallias winks in my direction. For all the darkness gathering in the room around his twin, Kallias doesn’t seem in the slightest bit bothered. In fact, he seems relatively amused that I stabbed his brother's hand–grateful even. The kinder twin swirls his goblet of wine and downs a deep sip. “He doesn’t like to play with his food.”

Rhode's knuckles whiten. “She’s the Offering, not our pet.”

The Offering.

Not an offering.

From a distant moonstone pillar, I feel the presence of death and terror. Xaden doesn’t have to come any nearer. I know he and his half-steel mask are here.

He watches me, the blood pooling around Rhode's hand, with an indiscernible expression. Then inclines his head slightly, turns to the open-aired balcony overlooking the city, and jumps into nothing but mountain air.

Perhaps the Midnight King is correct in his assumption of my shock because the Demon Slayer leaping from the side of his home doesn’t phase me.

“I’m changing my vote,” Rhodes rises from his chair with the heat of anger. He doesn’t seem to be talking to anyone in particular. “I agree with Xaden that we should kill her.”