CHAPTER 6

Calix watched the young Adians splash in the river below. There was something feline about his striking features, long and muscular body, and the way he moved, like a panther stalking his prey in the treetops. His jet-black hair was just long enough to ripple slightly in the breeze, and his black eyes were framed with almost-feminine, thick lashes.

“There is no way those blankets are from this valley,” Calix said to himself, stuffing the stolen one into the satchel slung around his chest. He had been watching her stroke them repeatedly throughout the last few weeks, and finally he had the chance to snoop inside that trunk. It was clear the blankets were far too elegant for the looms and thick home-made yarns of Adia. They were velvety and rich, much more like something you would find in the wealthy areas of the mountain. How did they end up here in Adia? He would take the blanket back to the mountain and see if he could investigate its origin.

He eyed the exuberance of the Adians playing in the water. There was very little he found as distasteful as wasting time. Didn’t they know they could be using these hours for something greater? Something worthwhile? Wealth and success and stability?

Unlike many of the young Masters on Mount Damien, Calix had not been born into prosperity. His father was a low-ranking soldier, and his mother worked as a nanny in the palace. When his father was killed in an accident during practice drills, his mother did not know what to do. She could no longer afford to pay someone to watch young Calix and his infant sister BiBi while she worked, yet she had to work in order for them to eat.

At the time, King Damien’s son, Ajax, was married to Princess Thomae. Despite her horrid husband, Thomae was kind and understanding. When Calix’s mother begged Princess Thomae to allow her children to come with her to work, Thomae was delighted. The nanny’s children were nearly the same age as the royal children. She prepared an apartment for Calix’s small family, and they moved to the palace. It was more than Calix’s mother could have ever dreamed.

Calix and his sister grew up in the palace learning to love elegant things. Their mother constantly pounded them with the belief that it all came from King Damien, and they owed everything to the monarch. They would be nothing and have nothing without him and his kind daughter-in-law who gave them work, money, a place to live, clothing, food, and much more.

When Calix was summoned to an audience with the king at ten years old, he visibly trembled.

“No need to be afraid, my boy,” the king said kindly, a pleased smile on his face.

“Oh, n-no, Your Majesty,” Calix said with reverence. “I am not afraid. I . . . I . . . I just hope I can please you.”

Clearly delighted, King Damien watched him. His eyes traveled to Calix’s hair and eyes—hair and eyes of the deepest black that matched the king’s. King Damien asked to see his hand, and he nodded in acknowledgement when he saw that there was no heart outline hidden beneath the glove.

“What is it you would like to do with your future?” he asked.

“Anything that would make you happy, Your Majesty. Anything to repay you.”

Damien nodded. “That is wise of you, my boy. Tell me about yourself. What are you best at?”

“Me, Your Majesty?”

“Yes, you. What are your skills? Your talents?”

Calix didn’t know how to answer.

Damien seemed interested in Calix’s hesitance. “Young man, you need confidence. You are handsome and have the potential to be very charming. If you just learned a little more about yourself and all you have to offer, I think you will make a fine Master of Adoration someday.”

“A M . . . Master?” Calix confirmed in awe.

“Yes,” Damien said with a warm smile and kind eyes. “A Master. You could be great. Not as great as me, but great all the same because you see the importance in revering me above all else. You are very wise beyond your years. You will begin with simple tasks. If you complete them as well as I suspect you will, you will be a Master before you turn twenty.”

Calix was a Master by the time he was eighteen. Through the intense tutoring of some slightly older Masters of Adoration and Perfection, Calix became a star pupil. He relished every task and assignment, deriving unspeakable joy from the many “well done” compliments he received from King Damien and other important officials.

He learned very quickly that he had much more command over women than men. Men weren’t so easily drawn under his influence. He would try and try to convince them that they should worship the crown, and eventually it might work. But one smile, one word in the direction of a woman, and he had her hooked.

Women tended to fall in love with him. There was no other way to say it. His dashing smile, his smooth words, and his talent for flattery were all weapons in his arsenal. When a woman fell under his spell, she tended to put her trust in the things he trusted. She would enjoy the things he enjoyed, seek out the things he sought. Or at least she would pretend to, becoming the image of the woman she believed he would want. Once she was sufficiently pathetic, it was time to abruptly cut off his attentions. She would wildly cling to anything that might win him back, including fully worshipping his idol, King Damien. Little did these women know that each move was calculated and how closely they always followed his script.

Ever since this discovery, he had spent a great deal of time honing his skills in both Control and Pleasure. He saw them as closely linked to his mastery of Adoration. Control them. Teach them to desire him. And soon they would be loyal to him, which was, in reality, one step away from adoration of the king.

He watched the Adians playing in the water and thought about Tovi. She was undeniably beautiful. He smirked as he thought about his task. Not only would it be easy to ensnare her with a few of his smiles, but it could also be enjoyable. It had been a long time since he had been attracted to a woman. The girls on the mountain were just his playthings. Since discovering Tovi, he couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to kiss her and see the look of adoration swell in her eyes.

The bough on which he stood suddenly dipped. Calix tensed like a startled animal, and his eyes locked on Eryx coming toward him. The sounds from the water below had masked his competition’s approach. Calix bolted, making his way to the forest floor as quickly as possible. He could run much faster on solid ground. Eryx chased him through the woods, his thundering footfalls booming ever closer behind him. They tromped on ferns and whipped through tall grasses for what seemed like ages before finally coming out near the ridge. Eryx threw himself forward and tackled Calix to the ground. They grappled for a few seconds before Eryx’s fist connected with Calix’s nose. Black blood poured out, and Calix’s concern over his appearance distracted him from his fight and flight.

As he pinched his nose and checked for broken places, his adversary stood and crossed his arms over his chest. “Leave her alone. She’s mine.”

“And why would I do that?” Calix responded nonchalantly, not bothering to look up.

“Like I already said: She’s mine.”

“I serve His Majesty, King Damien,” Calix said with reverence. “I obey his orders, not yours.”

“Find someone else to serve your purposes. She’s mine. She’s my target. She has been the whole time.”

“Oh really?” Calix finally glanced up. He had stopped the flow of blood, but there were dark stains down the front of his shirt and the places on his sleeve that he had used to mop his face. “So why haven’t you spoken to her yet? I’ve watched you, Eryx. You’ve never once attempted to attract her attention. You’ve never even shown yourself to her. How do you plan on marking the girl if you just sit in the trees all day? Don’t forget that I’m a Master of Adoration. I can see it in your eyes, Eryx. I recognized it weeks ago, as soon as you shaved your head. You are perfectly content pretending to scout her, while in reality you are trying to protect her.”

Eryx’s chest heaved, and his hands clenched into fists.

Calix looked at them and laughed. “Are you going to hit me again?”

Eryx glared at him for a moment. Whatever thoughts were swirling in his mind remained masked. Without warning, Eryx slammed his fist into Calix’s stomach. Calix fell to his knees and retched. Black sludge spewed from his mouth and pooled on the ground between his hands. By the time he was done vomiting, Eryx was gone.

Calix rolled onto his back, the warm grass soothing and fragrant. All of this will be worth it one day, he thought while looking at the blue sky. When he won the challenge and pleased His Majesty, all of this would be worth it.

He gritted his teeth and rose to his feet. Looking at the position of the sun, he knew there was still plenty of day left. No need to head back toward the mountain yet. He moved swiftly through the woods, back the way he had been chased. Nearing the river, he climbed into the trees, mindful of his sore stomach and throbbing nose. He made a mental note that Eryx deserved retribution.

He crept from tree to tree until he was close enough to see the antics still going strong in the water. He spotted Silas, still enjoying the afternoon with the others. Good. His way was clear to collect a bit more information.

Still splattered with black sludge from his run-in with Eryx, he climbed higher and travelled deeper into the canopy. He skulked outside of Silas’ cottage, and when he was sure no one was near, he sneaked inside.

The house was a mess. Brushes, palettes, and jars of paint covered the counters, chairs, and floor. But what really caught his attention was the floor-to-ceiling mural that covered every inch of the walls—fascinating. It reminded him of another mural—the mural in the palace.

Calix began searching through the images, careful not to disturb anything as he walked along the edge of the room. All he wanted was information on what this man was up to. In all his time scouting the Adians, Silas had proven the most interesting. No family and no stories of where he had come from. He was always out visiting other Adians or holed up in this house, working on his painting. Calix was particularly curious about him because he spent so much time with Tovi. What, exactly, was the nature of their relationship?

He stopped in front of one scene in the mural. It looked finished, and he peered closely at the details. It was a painting of an enormously fat tree almost entirely covered in vines and large yellow flowers. There were little orange, purple, and pink dots surrounding it, and he couldn’t quite decipher what they were meant to be.

He had seen a tree just like this in the forest that morning. He ticked through some facts he knew about the village and its inhabitants. His eyes darted from the tree scene to others along the wall. He thought about the mural in the palace.

Some pieces began to click in his mind, forming a picture he hadn’t expected.