literature

Frost Chapter 6

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Fayiz stood alone in his chamber watching the sun break over the horizon. Rage coursed through his veins at the betrayal. It had been foolish to trust Anya of course, that he knew. But he had underestimated her greatly, for never did he imagine that she would use a sorceress to seek out Feriana's staff. He strummed his fingers along the window ledge and narrowed his eyes. He moved from his quarters down the hall and into the throne room. It was silent, the court and the servants still tucked away in the warmth and comfort of their beds unaware of exactly what was unfolding before their eyes. He moved to the throne and took a seat, flinging his right leg over the arm of the chair.

Things had changed far more than he had anticipated. Mortal man had risen up, rebelled against the sorceresses who had kept them safe over the years. He had anticipated a minor unruliness but the fact that from the history he had acquired spoke not of his master as a god of shadow but of a god usurped by the goddess, well, that had been wonderfully surprising and had made his influence over Kreios that much simpler. Not that he would reveal himself to be anything more than a man no that seemed like an ill idea on the whole. Kreios had a strong prejudice against anything not mortal and a Virtuoso certainly fell into that category. But, it was going to make Laros content to find that the battle that would have been awaiting him had he been freed from the shadow world a few centuries before had greatly waned. Feriana was half the goddess she had been during the first war and each day she seemed to be fading a bit further from the land and even further from the minds of mortals.

Fayiz exhaled, he would have to confront Anya before the day was out, let her know that he was onto her plan, perhaps rub her nose in the fact that her efforts were wasted, he knew the sorceress she was counting on, knew that even if she succeeded there was a slim chance she'd recall exactly why it was that she'd retrieved the staff in the first place. He had been concerned she was going to recognize him when they had met the morning before but not even a flicker of recognition crossed her features. The sorceress Frost was a shadow of her former self, and he found himself grateful that his master had been able to cast a curse strong enough to last the centuries. With the promise of his return from the shadow realm and her own goddess quickly losing ground, it was obvious the memory loss was becoming worse. He licked his lips and rose slowly. Syana would head them off regardless; perhaps dispose of that meddling knight who hung too close to Anya when Fayiz had been courting her, leaving Frost to wander across the country with the bind on her magic still in place. And if she failed, well, there were other obstacles he was counting on.

He climbed stone steps covered in plush red carpet the same hue as the carpet of the throne room. Anya would be up by now if she slept at all. He would have to dose her, calm her nerves to keep her from upsetting the precious gem growing in her womb. He had always wanted a son, it seemed a pity to sacrifice his brood to his master but duty came before blood, the return of Laros out ruled his paternal instinct tenfold. The sun was high in the sky but hidden behind thick clouds which spilled snow down across the land of Monteforden and now east. It had taken a great deal of his strength to conjure the spell, but Kreios and his army were bringing him witches by the dozens daily and the addition of their magic to his arsenal would sustain the snow until the return of his master easily. It wouldn't penetrate Feriana's land, he knew that, but the rest of the continent would become as white as the capital city in a matter of weeks.

He pulled the mask over his eyes and nodded to the guards standing watch at Anya's door. He hated the mask, hated cloaking his power from the mortal men who meddled about in court. It was in his nature to be flashy and flamboyant, to peacock about reminding everyone that he could have the entire city under his thumb with a flick of his wrist. He would endure, however, after all, when Laros returned Monteforden would seem miniscule to what his master would offer as a reward. He hadn't needed to cloak them from Anya, she had sensed him for what he was upon a first glance, and much to his surprise it had worked to his advantage. He had become a hero strangely enough, rescuing a damsel from the terrible evil of her husband. It made him laugh when he thought about it, but enraged him on a similar note when he thought of her betrayal. She should have been thankful that he chose her and not one of the witches who, though not immortal, at least possessed magical power. Instead he had chosen the Dame, the queen impotent save for her immortality. He bit his lip and pushed the thought aside, not trusting his anger not to get the better of him.

Anya's ladies bowed to him, while the queen sat at her vanity, the same place he had found her the evening before. "Leave us," she murmured her voice barely more than a whisper.

Fayiz waited for the door to close behind him before approaching slowly, his walk growing more predatory with each step. The mask slipped from his features once more as he met her gaze in the mirror and smiled. "My dear darling Anya, you have me at a terrible disadvantage. I find myself quite confused as to why it is you've let that sorceress wander away with the help of that pet of yours." He reached out and stroked her long blonde hair. He loved the way her hair was, the softness, the way it curled around his fingers. "Don't get me wrong, I so adore your spirit I do, and I'm certain those waiting for them just outside the walls will enjoy the sport, but you've made a grave mistake my love."

He watched as Anya's fists clenched in the folds of her dress, "You've lied to me. At every turn and I stupidly trusted you." Her voice cracked like she was fighting tears. For a moment Fayiz felt something he could only describe as sympathy for the pain he had caused the land's queen. It was true, her life had been comprised of nothing more than heartache and for the first time since her mother's death she had trusted someone and he had taken her trust and used it against her. But he recalled the importance of the task at hand and brushed away the sympathy.

"If only I could make you understand the gravity of this situation my love."

Anya chuckled lightly as tears began to fall down her cheek, "And if only I could make you understand who much I love my people, mortal or magic born. I cannot stand by and allow for their destruction and enslavement." She turned and faced him, her eyes red with fury and lingering tears. "How I loved you too, how I thought perhaps things would be all right, Kreios would die and we would be wed and the land would return to how it is supposed to be, no more persecutions."

Fayiz fought the desire that surged through him to silence her. Her words sent ripples of confusion through his mind and his core cried treason. If he failed in bringing back his master from the shadow realm and was extinguished from the earth his soul would return to Laros and his essence would not be destroyed no, instead he would face thousands of fates far worse than death. He shook his head brushing away the confliction. "I cannot allow this to happen. You must understand, I am bound to the shadow god as you well know and so, it is my duty to see that he returns to this world.

He turned to face her as her nails raked across his eye. He hissed in pain and held his face momentarily before glancing at his reflection. Bright streaks of red were beginning to form on his cheek. He snarled and reached for Anya snatching her by her throat, "And I promise you darling that any more acts of betrayal on your part will bring suffering to the mortals and magic born of your city unlike any you have ever seen. Mind your place Anya and mind our child."

She laughed bitterly. "Our child? What child, this creature, this thing that grows inside me. We both know that it is no child, just a vessel for your master. Had I known then what I know now…"

He led her back to her bed and tucked her in between the quilts tightly. "Your efforts would have been fruitless any way. No potion, nothing you could muster will undo it now. What's more you were so desperate for the attention, your legs practically sprang open when I set my gaze upon you. As for your darling sorceress well, Frost can hardly remember what her name is, never mind your task." He turned slightly to glance at the wound in the mirror. Already his skin was stitching itself back together. "You have my master to thank for that not me."

Anya's brows drew together in confusion, "What do you mean?"

"Frost cannot recall anything save for the things Feriana protects. She will forget her mission once she reaches Alluria, of that I'm nearly certain." He approached her slowly, cupping her cheeks in his hands before lightly brushing her lips with his own, "I know you dread greatly for the fate of your kingdom my love but have no fear, for when Laros returns we shall rule it together, I won't let harm come to you no matter what."

"A small lottery for what you've already done. If you wish me so well, then find a way to undo my immortality so that I may pass when this war has begun." Anya's tone was icy and sent a chill down Fayiz' spine. He released her and exited the chambers the mutters of monster echoing in his wake. He returned his mask to his face but didn't dare allow himself to make eye contact with one of the ladies in waiting; too certain he would kill them on impulse alone. Anya was stubborn, too stubborn, his master wouldn't let her live, no, not someone whose history stank of magic as strongly as hers did. She would get her wish and her body would extinguish, and most certainly her soul along with it. He chewed his lips as he returned to his quarters debating whether his love for the queen or his love for his master would win out in the end and his mind recalled the altar, being locked away in a stone prison for countless centuries and he exhaled disgusted with himself.

"Kill them Syana", he muttered, "Kill them so that I don't have to do it." The sun shone through his window into his eyes, the wound though freshly healed stinging slightly. He prayed in that moment, something he had no recollection of ever doing, he prayed to whatever old god that was listening that the sorceress and the knight fail in their task and that in only a matter of moons he would be freed, allowed a paradise for his sacrafice.
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