Page 18 of Cursed By the Dawn

Erebus’s shadows raged, darting toward the ceiling. They wanted to strike, to hurt, to kill. I could feel it in my bones. My shadows wanted what he wanted. They craved vengeance; they craved vengeancenow. It took everything within me to shove the scornful impulse back down.

“Mithras is unforgivable for what he did,” I said, shaking my head. “But we cannot harm him until I know Elliot is safe. And after I have my brother back, we will do what needs to be done. You can have your revenge.”

Erebus’s shadows faltered. The fight in his eyes still fumed, but he was stifling the worst of it.

Ceveon slumped, some of his own rage dissipating. “I know we’re in charge of something far greater than ourselves now,” he said. “Our individual needs—including putting that golden bastard’s head on one of these fine chandeliers—must come second to what’s better for the whole of our kingdom.”

Sorren gave a wry smile into his drink. “Good boy. You’re learning.”

“And just for that—” Ceveon yanked Sorren by the elbow so forcefully he dropped his cup. “We may be dead in Noctis, but Sorren and I are still here. And so long as the Maker grants us that gift, we will fight by your sides,” he continued seriously, wrapping the three of us in a crushing hug. “We’ll get back Elliot, save the world, and then take our revenge as the ultimate reward.”

“I havegreatlyunderestimated the spectacle we must put on to convince Mithras and the Seven we don’t intend to sever their heads from their pretty necks,” Sorren said with a bemused sigh.

We all melted into laughter, conjuring more spiced wine as we finished our plans.

According to Sorren, my hair style was lacking.

Too loose.

Tooforgettable.

He sat me down in front of an imposing mirror winged by a dozen candelabras, his ice-blue stare analyzing my hair as if it was the strangest specimen he’d ever encountered. First, he arranged it in a ponytail, coaxing the dark brown tendrils into a glossy sweep down my spine. Then he added a few curled pieces that framed my face in perfect symmetry.

“It’s beautiful,” I said in awe, wondering what Erebus might think. Would his eyes darken when he saw my bare neck? Would he wind his fingers around the curls that framed my face? Maybe he’d even lean down and kiss my throat as he’d done at the Revel of Rebirth. I’d been aching for him to kiss me—for any show of heated affection—for weeks. My chest tightened as I envisioned his lips on my skin. As well as what it might mean if hedidn’tkiss me.

“It’s not,” Sorren quipped, snapping me out of my fantasy. “It could be better.”

If I had been drinking something, I would have spit it out.

Well, then.

Sorren skimmed his hands over my head, adding ribbons of star-flecked shadow that swept through my hair in glittering, elegant loops. Where my hair moved, so did the shadows; they acted like tendrils of hair, too. For the final touch, Sorren wove shadows through my onyx crown, affixing it seamlessly to the top of my head. I looked regal, even commanding.

Sorren made a smug, approving sound. “There.Nowit’s beautiful.”

“I’m glad you approve,” I said, chuckling. “I’d hate to not meet your expectations.”

He gave a noncommittal shrug. “When I was a scholar at Evernight, I was expected to attire visiting dreamers during Revels. My talents were highly requested before Erebus arranged for me to join him in his demon-hunting adventures.”

“I can see why.”

“Well, Iwasthe best,” he said, preening a little. “Something to keep in mind, Esmer, is that most dreamers are afraid of imagining all that can be. They become too easily satisfied with the most basic creations, failing to see greater possibilities.”

Sorren added another shadow, this time fashioning it as a ribbon with ends that trailed all the way from my crown to the floor. Then he shaded my eyelids in a gray shimmer, darkened my lashes, and painted my lips to evoke wet apples freshly plucked. He assured me that the color would not transfer from my lips unless I willed it otherwise. It would last through dinner and anything else the evening tossed my way.

Whateverthatmeant.

“Isn’t this a little too—”

“Extravagant?” Sorren said in a huff, clearly perturbed. “You should look extravagant. If jaws don’t drop when the Seven behold you, I’ve failed. I have a reputation to uphold. Andyouhave a reputation to create.”

“Easy for you to say. You were clearly well regarded by the Seven,” I grumbled. I remembered Ceveon and Sorren at Lelantos’s Revel, flanking Erebus as he strode into the coliseum.

“That was only because of Erebus. Before he was betrayed, Ceveon and I would follow him and Mithras into every strange hidden pocket of the Dream Realm, just to hunt for demons.” Sorren stained my cheeks with a hint of rosy blush, curving the color toward my temples. “We four were good friends in those early years at Evernight. We took lessons together. Attended demonstrations like dutiful schoolboys. Ceveon was skilled in battle, and I was skilled in creation. A Weaver never chose us, but we didn’t care.”

“And Erebus? Mithras? What were their talents?”

“They were good at everything,” Sorren said with a shrug. “Eventually, when Erebus and Mithras became some of the most renowned demon hunters in Evernight history, they were given certain allowances that other scholars were not. Such as Erebus taking Ceveon and me—previously disgraced because Weavers did not choose us—as his direct attendants. Erebus wasn’t revered to the same degree as the Weavers, but he could largely do as he wished. Even the king adored him. But that was a long time ago.”