Winter Gods & Serpents (The Auran Chronicles Book 1)

Blood & ShadowKilianShe’d come to the library, floating like a spirit around the dark, lifeless corridors filled with rotting pages and the musky scent of ink and cellulose. I had not the slightest idea why she chose to wander at night and why particularly here. Murder did not need much research.

Her slender fingers gently traced the dark, wooden shelves as she went past them, the white shift she wore floated around her, luminant in the darkness lit only by odd candles. And her hair—her hair was ever black and long, unbound and alluring like silk made of night skies.

I followed only a few steps behind, unable to think straight. What she had told me at the funeral, the patrol in Casmere—they had stayed on my mind longer than I usually liked to keep thoughts inside there. Overthinking created hesitation, doubts, and fear. None of which were qualities of a good soldier. But I could not stop wondering what her life had been like.

She turned to pull out a wine-coloured leather-bound book from one of the shelves. Her eyes travelled along the harsh ink and faded words. She had such a strange, concentrated expression. She always bit the side of her lower lip and her dark brows pulled tightly together, wiggling just slightly when she found something she was looking for. Unsatisfied, she abruptly slammed the book shut and placed it back on the shelf, turning to face me.

“I would suggest you stop with all the staring. It would be disastrous if you ended up falling in love with me,” she said, flicking a bunch of her satiny, dark locks over her shoulder. “I’m bewitching, you see. It’s all the Ybris charms.”

Moonlight peeking from the small, iced windows outlined her in a white halo, and she looked divine more than anything. And for a moment, I would have believed her.

“I could,” I said, getting close enough to her that she leaned back, almost folding backwards in half. “If this realm turns upside down and sideways to hells.” Reaching a hand to her hair, I removed the soft feather that had rested there since she’d left her room. “Revolting really, all the murderous wiles.”

She glanced sideways at the feather resting in my hand, and backed away, straightening herself. A winsome smile stretched innocently on her lips, looking to devour me. “They make the most of my appeal, darling.” After throwing me a wink, she continued strutting graciously through the library corridors, humming that same eerie melody she sang at nights before bed.

She knew how to play with my patience. A little too well. Mal would be jealous.

“Does she ever sleep?” I asked Nia who had sat by a reading table, eyes glued on a book.

“Mostly not, but something must be bothering her if she wanted to get out of her bedroom. Usually, she just lays in bed.”

So, this was a common thing? “There is Medi Healers that—”

“Tried.”

“And Crafters?”

“Tried.”

“Doesn’t it worry you that she never rests or sleeps?”

She lowered her book down and finally looked up at me. “Doesn’t it ever worry you that you might be the cause of why she can’t sleep?” she asked, raising her brows, and then shaking her head at my silence.

“It doesn’t, does it?” she continued. “After all, she is the Ybris, her father’s vile creature, and now a pawn who your king will most likely have mysteriously killed not hours after that agreement sets in place. I know your kind, Kilian, very, very well. It never surprises me how soulless you spirituals are, how the divine rules over every human aspect, how the living depends on the Gods’ graces and the fates set by them. The restlessness and the fatigue will not kill her. You will.” She then turned to her Kemeri written toxicology book, flipping through the pages silently as she said, “What is belief but tales and threats of Gods who fear and cannot control human nature, binding it with fictitious shackles of obedience in exchange for access to their heavens. Are they not the ones that say life cannot be all sweetness and purity, and then offer the very same to entice us into believing? Hypocrisy or just spiritual salvation by means of deceit? And you Adriatians fell for it—that fear that allows submission.”

Now I knew why the two of them were friends. They’d bonded over their heathen ways. “You speak too sourly for something you don’t understand.”

“And your kind acts too rashly on the very same basis of understanding.”

I almost scoffed. “Is it Adriatians, or the Gods that have hurt you?”