Page 53 of Devoured

My pulse spikes. “You don’t understand what living with Sybil was like.”

“She was a Wolf Queen—of course I understand!” She leans back in her chair, still holding on to that cane as if for dear life. “Sybil was firm because our laws are firm. She was vicious and strong because she was a werewolf.”

No.

“She murdered too quickly. She dealt judgments without seeking nuance. The power went to her head, Balam. She didn’t want anyone usurping her throne. She—she abandoned her son.” I implore her to see reason. Although I loathe feeling this way, as if I have to convince others of my pain—that it was real, that my own hurt existed—I need her to understand. Because it’s not just about my own hurt. It’s never been about that. “Calix was tortured because of her. Sybil was a monster.”

Evie snorts but otherwise remains quiet.

Balam points her cane at me. “You may prance around with that air of princely arrogance in your own castle, but do not pretend around me. Cora is not more peaceful. She is not more merciful. If anything, she’s more savage.”

“She is working to change this government.”

Balam barks a sharp laugh. “Government? Bah! The Wolf Courts are not mortal human systems to be governed. They are divine. Once upon a time, we lived among gods. Do you understand that? Did your mother teach you that before you and Cora massacred her?”

My blood runs cold, even as fury ignites in my veins. “Sybil was not my mother.”

“Do not be stupid in my country,” Balam hisses. Her courtiers sit upright now, one by one, as if to fight. I glare at them. I glare at Balam too. I can’t help the way my chest rises and falls. Fast. Too fast to be anything but angry, flustered. “I am entertaining your presence here because I liked you as a boy, Sinclair, and I hope a tendril of that sweet, curious child remains. Have you noticed the stars have disappeared? Have you noticed the constellations have fallen? Are you not worried about what this means for our world? I have heard from the South American Oracle that the gods are aggrieved. Castle Severi is not long for this world.”

My blood runs cold. “That can’t be true. Cora has a plan—”

“Fuck Cora’s plans. She is a wild woman, untethered to her humanity. You are a fool to trust her.”

“She is my mother—”

“She did not care for you as a mother, raise you, teach you to transform—”

“At least Cora didn’t lie to me!” I slam my hands on the table. My claws unleash. My fangs drop. I can’t get a handle on my rage. “She didn’t torture me. Sybil lied to me about everything, Balam. About who I am. About who Calix is. She lied for our entire lives, and if I hadn’t stumbled upon Cora on that beach—”

“You think you stumbled upon Cora?” Balam laughs, though it’s quieter this time. More reserved. Her courtiers start prowling forward. “She wouldn’t have been found if she hadn’t planned it to happen that way. Just because Sybil lied to you doesn’t mean Cora is honest. You have turned your back on a shark only to befriend a python.”

I force a deep, calming breath and ignore the heavy weight of her courtiers’ stares. They stand in an informal circle around the table now, close enough I’d break the toes of the one behind me if I scooted my chair back an inch. “Cora sent me here to be sure your alliance is untested,” I say slowly, deliberately. “You will remain loyal to the North American throne.”

“And if I don’t?”

Her face remains impassive as our gazes lock, hold, but mine—I can’t help leaning forward, my eyes burning. Beseeching. “Just agree, Balam. We can move past this. Stay loyal to us, and we will stay loyal to you. We need your resources now more than ever.”

“For this perfect utopia that Cora claims to want?” Balam makes a low noise in her throat, tilting her head and considering. She doesn’t wave off her courtiers. I can practically feel their breath on my neck. Folding her hands across her stomach, she says, “I’m reminded of a story—a European fable. At the dawn of our creation, there were many sects of superior beings. Vampires, sirens, shifters of every kind, and—leading us all—the fae. For centuries, we existed in harmony. There was peace. Unity.” Her gaze turns inward then, and she purses her withered lips. “Until there came a vampire who did not agree with their place in our world. This vampire thought her kind were the strongest, the fastest, the most divine beings in all existence. Why should they submit to the fae? Why should they submit to anything?” She lifts a shoulder. “And so, that vampire attempted to conquer every single faction. For the first time in the Realm of Superiority, there was war. Bloodshed. Destruction. The utopia crumbled because of ego and greed. This disappointed the fae so much, they closed their realm to us. They banished all their creations to the mortal world. The different sects took their war to the humans. They fought among ruins and temples. They bled their powers into the earth. And do you know what came of this?”

I swallow hard, refusing to look away. “The Age of Werewolves.”

“No. The Death of Vampires. The Death of Sirens. The Death of Shifters. The death, Sinclair Severi, of everyone. A conqueror is never the answer—and you shouldn’t need a children’s fable to teach you that. The only possible ending Cora has wrought is death.”

I shake my head in blatant refusal. “You just said there was unity once. We can get back there. We can fight for that.” She’s wrong. She has to be wrong. Everything is bad now, yes, but it will be better. Eventually, we will all be happy, and the ending will justify the means. “We can fight together.”

Balam smiles. A mournful smile of one who has lived too long and seen too much. “If you must slaughter for unity, then unity has already been lost. I cannot align with you, Sinclair. Central America will join South America in the coming months. I will not worship a regent who seeks to conquer a world that does not belong to her.”

“Please, Balam.”

“I’m sorry. My decision is final.” Gesturing around us, she adds, “Please stay. You are welcome for as long as you’d like. If you ever need to escape Castle Severi—”

Unable to help it, I push to my feet, heedless of the sharp hand that seizes my shoulder from behind. This is not how I wanted this to happen. “Balam, you don’t understand what you’re doing—”

“I do, Sinclair.” Her golden eyes are fathomless upon mine. “I promise you, I do.”

“No,” Evie murmurs softly, her own gaze watering with unshed tears. Though she doesn’t plead or argue as I’m inclined to do, she looks down at Balam with more emotion than I’ve seen in her since the solstice. It looks like sorrow. And I’m glad I told her this much. I’m glad I told her what I could. “You don’t understand anything.”

Before any of us can respond, a crash sounds below, followed by heavy footsteps on the stairs.