Page 54 of This Dark Descent
There was something more to the story than he was telling her. Something that made his eyes glaze over as if he’d receded into some dark, depthless place. But she didn’t press him, even as the curiosity burned.
“She was a scholar of the old Kinnish magic. It’s from her that I got my interest.” He ran his fingers along the Arkala nestled in one of the stacks of books. “There is a tenet in Kinnism about making the world a better place. The Arkala will tell you that’s why the Harbingers shared their magic with us, why Skylis walked among the people in human form and Lyzairin established the first Kinnish academies. I’ve never been the religious sort, but that aspect has always called to me. My mother always talked about it, and it’s what I’m trying to accomplish.”
He met her gaze. “My business with the Kelbras is personal, but it’s not my only focus. I intend to see that this city changes. That it becomes more than the shadow that has consumed it.”
“And then?” Ari asked, though she nearly didn’t. There’d been something almost reverent about the way he spoke. Something that left her not only believing him but believinginhim. That he could truly fix this place and stop what had happened to his family from happening to any others.
Damien was resolute as he said, “Then I change everything.”
PART 3
In time, humanity began to clamor for the divine.
They sought power beyond their station
and would not rest when they were denied.
Sensing darkness in their hearts, the Harbingers left,
and took their secrets with them.
CHAPTER 19
MIKIRA
MIKIRA STARED ATher reflection in the mirror and saw another person.
The dress Damien had sent her for the ball belonged to a different girl. Someone who was always looking down at the world instead of reaching up. The bodice clung to her chest in a waterfall of sapphire silk and silver gossamer, emanating from a single strap on her left shoulder, wrapping down around her waist, and rushing toward the ground in a seamless flow.
It was only Ailene’s face over her shoulder that grounded the image, her thin fingers drawing the last of Mikira’s red hair into the braided crown she’d been working on for the last few minutes.
“You look like a princess!” she exclaimed when she stepped back. Nelda nodded her agreement from where she was curled up on her bed with Wolf, the golem dog, and a small book she’d had in hand the last few days.
Mikira certainly didn’t feel like a princess, but she smiled for her sisters’ benefit. They didn’t need to know that she felt like a sheep walking into a lion’s den. Her job tonight was to be bold, confident, intimidating, and to do it all with a smile for Veradell’s elite, bolstering their plan to make her untouchable.
But she wasn’t a princess; she was a girl playing dress-up in a gown worth more than everything her family had left.
Someone knocked downstairs, likely the driver of the enchanted coach Damien had sent. He’d been doing that more often, so that she needn’t ride Iri across town. She missed being around the stallion, though, her time almost entirely absorbed by Atara now.
“I’ll get it!” Ailene darted from the room.
In the resulting silence, Mikira’s nerves bundled into her chest. She caught Nelda watching her in the mirror, her dark eyes full of a very simple message:Don’t do anything stupid.Sometimes Mikira wondered which one of them was actually the oldest. Her sister had taken one look at her injured arm the night of the race and become her personal medic in the days since, though Reid had removed the stitches yesterday.
Ailene burst back into the room. “He looks gorgeous, Kira!” she whispered excitedly.
Mikira frowned. She didn’t know Damien’s household staff very well, but she didn’t know who among them Ailene would refer to as gorgeous.
Ailene ushered her to the door. “He’s waiting!”
Sighing, Mikira slipped past her sister into the hallway, one hand holding up the folds of her skirt. As she descended the second flight, the wall curved away to reveal a man standing just inside the door.
She froze. “Reid?”
He turned, frost-blue eyes bright against the set of his dark lashes. Gone was his normal casual attire, replaced instead by a black silk waistcoat over a crisp black shirt, his jacket tight through the shoulders and tapering to his waist. Someone—likely Ari—had even gotten ahold of his hair, slicking back the strands that usually hung over his forehead. A few had still escaped and curled slightly against his pale skin.
He looked completely different. Not just because of the suit and the hair, but because for once, he wasn’t scowling. She might even say he was staring.
A giggle reminded her that Ailene was lurking, and she quickly regained her composure, descending the steps. “Did Damien send you to keep an eye on me?”
