That was the night she’d admitted to trying to end her life in the desert, and the night he admitted his love for a mother who could never love him back and a kingdom that would never be his.
How very wrong they had both been.
“Consider this my final warning,” Archeron murmured. “You need to understand what will happen to your friends if you don’t surrender. What will happen to Surai, Haven. Their suffering, their torment and death—I need you to really see it, to understand the consequences of the foolish game you play.”
“Game?” A bitter sound formed in her throat. “Surai swore an oath to the Goddess to protect her daughter. They all did. Even if I willingly surrendered, they would die trying to save me. Surely you still remember what honor is?”
He chuckled darkly, his breath reaching through the Nether and caressing her neck. “You’re not Goddess-Born, Haven; you’re mortal, from the corrupted race despised equally by Noctis and Solis. Even Freya knew that too much power would be misused by your kind, which is why there are laws against abominations like you. Tell me, why would she do that if you were her daughter?”
She didn’t have an answer.
“Stolas is using you as a pawn. Even he knows the kingdoms of Solissia will never bow to a mortal, no matter how much magick you possess. It’s cruel, the way he lets you hope. At least I offer the truth.”
Doubt crept over her. The Asgardian had said as much.
“Stolas is parading you around like his own personal pet. Just like the wolves after the war ended, you’re a novelty, kept in a little cage as entertainment. Perhaps you don’t see the cage yet because he lets you out on occasion, because he throws you just enough scraps of power to stay fed, but it’s still there. One of these days you’ll realize better a cage you can see than one you can’t.”
A calm rage took over, her body going hot and cold. There was still so much about Stolas that he guarded from her, but she knew one thing with absolute surety: he would never try to cage her.
Archeron drew back enough that he could see her face. Perhaps he was expecting her to appear conflicted. Instead, whatever he saw chipped away at that arrogant grin until it died a glorious death.
“Did you forget what happened to the poor caged wolves, Sun Sovereign?” She practically spat his title; he didn’t deserve it. “One day, bored of their howls and expensive appetites, the Sun Sovereign decided he would impress visiting royals by hunting the wolves. The Sovereign still had his whistle, after all. He thought he was in control.”
The flex of Archeron’s jaw said he knew how this story ended.
“But the wolves were bored too,” she continued, “and when the hunt began, the sovereign quickly realized his mistake. One hundred Solis died before the Gold Shadows killed the wolves. Aramos himself lost part of his arm to the attack.” She held his stare, remembering Stolas’s wicked delight as he told the tale of the foolish Sun Sovereign. “You see, the wolves had only been following the Sovereign’s orders in battle because his interests aligned with theirs: killing. In his arrogance, Aramos thought he could control them. He imagined himself as a predator and the wolves as prey—but it had always been the other way around.”
His eyes tightened at the corners as her meaning took hold. Was that a twinge of . . . fear? Then he grinned and whispered a promise into her ear. “I have a beautiful cage waiting for you, Little Mortal. You have two weeks to decide if you want to come willingly, or at the cost of everyone you care about.”
She tried to close her eyes against what came next, but she couldn’t stop the onslaught of visions that barreled through her skull. Each one so vibrant, so real that she immediately forgot where she had been. She forgot about Archeron. Forgot that the visions were just that—visions—forgot that there would be an end to all of this.
Each hallucination was experienced as if it were happening.
Each one died horribly, the torment stretched out for what felt like weeks. Months. Lifetimes. She was unable to look away for even a moment. Unable to cry or scream or do anything but watch as they called for her, as they begged and pleaded, to watch and