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Book 2: Chapter 24: When Hate Becomes Useful
🕑 Added 2025-09-02 11:44:29 +0000 UTCChapter 24:
When Hate Becomes Useful
Grace shut the door behind her with more force than she intended. The echo lingered in her private chamber, bouncing off the carved walls like it wanted to scold her. Her mood was sour, though she tried to deny it at first. A mess of worry, fascination, and irritation churned in her chest, refusing to settle.
She sat down heavily on the couch by the window. A flick of her wrist made the pearl on her bracelet glow faintly, and in the next breath the black wyvern egg was in her hand, smooth and cool, heavier than it looked. Her fingers traced the ridges along its shell as if it could answer for the questions in her head. Without thinking, she let her mana bleed into it, a steady flow, a habit by now. The egg drank greedily.
But her own thoughts refused to quiet.
Clara.
The memory returned too vividly. Clara’s voice shifting, her body not her own, Elyne stiffening as if she too felt it. Something had been in that room, something that did not belong. Grace had felt it before—once, twice, too many times to write off as coincidence.
The last time was when she had met her older self, that smug and broken Grace Blair in the mirror of the world. Before that, when her light core first awoke. Earlier still, when her divine spark flared for the first time and reality bent in ways she could not explain.
It was that same pressure again. The same wrongness. The feeling of being noticed by something vast and ancient. The feeling that the world itself shifted around her like she was standing at the bottom of a sea and a leviathan just swam past.
She frowned, feeding another pulse of mana into the egg. Could it be? Was Clara also chosen?
Chosen by a god. The little bubbly Clara, chosen. Grace almost laughed, but the sound came out as a dry scoff. Of course, it made sense in its own twisted way. Clara always stumbled into things far beyond her. Grace knew that all too well.
But even if it were true, what of it? Gods had plans. So what? Grace had already decided she wouldn’t follow any plan but her own. They could plot, scheme, and push their little pawns around the board. She would smash the board itself if she had to.
That thought made her lips curl into a grin, though her head throbbed at the same time. Grace pressed her fingers to her temple and groaned. Of course. The headaches again.
Why in all hells were there no painkillers in this world? No ibuprofen, no simple pill to swallow whenever she wanted. Sure, there were potions, charms, drugs that dull pain for a while, but none of them had the simple, mindless convenience of a white tablet in a blister pack. Grace Blair had lived in a world where you could fix your pain with a sip of water and a swallow, not with arcane rituals or begging an apothecary.
Grace Blair.
The name slipped into her mind too easily these days. She felt her mood tilt toward it again, the sharpness, the arrogance, the sneering laughter that didn’t care who heard. Maybe she needed to see the bigger picture again. Not just the threads she could grab, but the whole weave.
What was Clara in this equation? That question would not leave her alone.
Her first near-death-experience in Nyras had been because of Clara. She hadn’t forgotten. She almost died because some assassin wanted Clara dead, and Grace had jumped between them. A knife in her body, and the next moment she had met herself. Grace Blair staring at Grace Ashford across the veil of death.
Funny, wasn’t it? Blair lived because of Clara in a way. And Grace herself had died because of Clara. It was the first real influence on her own character. Her whole story had spun in that direction since the bakery, since the knife, since that moment she chose to act on impulse.
And now, Clara was hers. She liked how things had played out this time, how Clara had followed her, how she had wormed into her life, into her soul, as a friend. But… was Clara really a friend? Did Grace even have real friends?
What did it matter? Labels were boring. Clara was hers, and that was enough.
The egg pulsed in her hand, a soft heat blooming from within. She fed it more mana without thinking. The rhythm soothed her, a steady exchange, like petting some dangerous animal and daring it to bite.
But she couldn’t ignore the other detail. The light mana. So much of it, flooding that room earlier. It was rare enough on its own, but it hadn’t been just light. She had felt and seen space too, woven through it, mostly unseen to her but unmistakable. Space mana was rarer still, more elusive than anything. Grace couldn’t see it directly, only in high concentrations, not aligned as she was, but Elyne had reacted. And Elyne had seen something else there...
Grace narrowed her eyes. What had Corax once told her? The divine spark wasn’t just a gift. It was a brand. Bearers were avatars in the last ‘Great War’, vessels for the gods. Weapons.
So, what now? Did that mean the gods were preparing again? Readying for another war?
She smirked and leaned back, egg balanced in her palm like a secret. Let them prepare. If they didn’t, she would bring the war to them herself when the time came.
The throb in her skull pulsed again, stabbing sharp behind her eyes. She hissed and rubbed her forehead, muttering curses under her breath.
And then a knock came at her door.
Her body tensed instantly. With a swift motion of her hand, the egg dissolved back into the pearl on her bracelet, vanishing as if it had never been there. She brushed her fingers through her hair, straightened her posture, and turned her head toward the sound.
Her lips curved in a thin smile, more reflex than anything. “Come in.”
The latch turned. Grace did not rise. She only shifted the pearl at her wrist, its warmth still lingering from the egg, and let the low firelight cast long shadows across her chamber. The window stood open behind her, night air cool against her skin.
Ser Calen entered first, helm tucked beneath his arm, his frame rigid as a spear. Behind him came two more. A girl, small, with sharp eyes that never stopped moving, and a Wolfkin, silent, ears flicking once as if the chamber itself had whispered.
Calen bowed low. “As ordered, Your Grace—the package. The apprentice. The Wolfkin. The boy waits outside under guard. Your word?”
Grace tilted her head, studying them. The fire popped once, snapping the silence.
“Delivered intact,” Calen added carefully. “Minimal resistance.”
Grace almost facepalmed herself. Was this guy for real? Did he think they were running an underground organization here? Did he imagine she was the head of some conspiracy circle, whispering in shadows, passing coded phrases like “minimal resistance” and “delivered intact”? She cringed inside, but outwardly she smiled like it was exactly the answer she had wanted.
“Thank you, cousin.” Her voice was calm, practiced. “You said the boy waits outside. What do you mean by this?”
Calen straightened, jaw firm. “The boy, Leon. I brought him from the dungeon of the Ashford Estate. You said you wanted everything here in Gatewick, my lady.”
Grace blinked once. Did she? No. Definitely not in those words. She had no memory of asking him to cart the proof of her darker side across Ashford. But—well. It was not bad, not bad at all, to have Leon close by. She had to do experiments with the divine spark anyway.
“Then bring Leon into my dungeon,” Grace said lightly. “There should be a cell free.”
Her smile widened for a moment. Wow. Her dungeon was really crowded now. She had filled it in less than a week. At this rate, she would need to schedule a clear out like some people did with their closets.
At her words, Rin shifted sharply. The girl’s lips pressed tight, but she said nothing.
Grace turned her head, studying her. Rin’s body was taut as a drawn bow, but shadow mana swirled slowly inside her, tiny specks gathering in the rhythm of a core in formation. It was slow, imperfect, and human. Grace almost felt a pang of sympathy. Almost.
Yes, Rin had reacted to Leon’s fate, but Grace had not forgotten their deal. Neither had Rin.
“You two look good,” Grace said, her voice light with false sweetness. “No wounds, no limp, no scars. You look vital.”
Neither answered. Rin kept her face still, her eyes a little too sharp. Rhel only stared at the floor, ears flicking.
Grace leaned back against the armrest. So, what to do with them? It was late. Her head still throbbed, her mood was sour, and she had no desire for small talk. They were not her friends, and Rin in particular would probably cut her throat the first chance she got.
Fine. Grace had another idea.
“Ah, and Ser Calen,” she said suddenly, turning her gaze on her cousin. “We are in Gatewick. I imagine no one will raise a fuss if you take Rhel here and give him some sword training.”
Calen’s brows rose. “But… he is a Beastkin…”
Grace did not sigh, but she wanted to. Racism. Always a thing. Always so tedious.
“It is not uncommon to see Beastkin as retainers. Even merchants employ them as mercenaries. So, there should be no problem.”
She knew she was technically right. There was always a difference, though, between a mercenary swinging a sword for coin and a Beastkin wearing the livery of a noble house. And Grace of Ashford was not just any noble.
Still, Calen did not argue further. Grace could not tell if he accepted her reasoning or simply chose not to test her temper.
“So, you can leave with Rhel,” she continued smoothly. “Integrate him somewhat into your knight order, cousin. He will serve as my bodyguard later, so it is best if he is trained properly.”
Calen’s mouth twisted. “A Beastkin… your bodyguard?”
Grace rolled her eyes inwardly. Racism beats devotion, apparently. But she knew better. Rhel was bound to her by the soul contract. He was the only one in this room who could not betray her.
“Yes. My bodyguard,” Grace said firmly. “Beastkin have better senses than humans. And he is not my only one, cousin. You, too, are one of my knights. Are you not?”
That appeased him, a little. He nodded stiffly.
“Then take him with you now. Think about Leon and the dungeon,” she added. After a second thought she glanced at Rin. “But do not chain him. Give him some essentials. And shut the door behind you. Leave Rin here with me.”
Calen hesitated, eyes flicking toward Rin, weighing the danger. The girl was sharp, yes, but she was no match for Grace. He nodded once more. With a shove, he guided Rhel out into the corridor, helm tucked tight under his arm.
The door shut behind them. The chamber fell into quiet. Only the fire cracked, only the wind breathed through the window.
Grace let her smile return, slow, deliberate. “So, Rin,” she said softly. “Our last talk in the dungeon was not so pleasant, was it? Come. Sit beside me. We have something to discuss.”
The girl did not move at first. Her eyes narrowed, dark with calculation. Then, step by step, she crossed the chamber and lowered herself onto the edge of the couch.
“I guess you didn’t forget our deal,” Grace began, her tone smooth but edged with amusement. “You work for me for a few years, and you get Leon back.”
Rin nodded stiffly.
“In the dungeon,” Grace said, tilting her head, “I saw something in you. Not just the crying or the sadness. Anger. Conviction. You really thought you could free Leon, rescue Callaire, flip everything on its head. It was way too early, and waaay too messy, but you still went for it. That’s the kind of energy that actually matters. You’ll do whatever it takes.”
Her words stung, the twitch in Rin’s jaw gave her away, but the girl said nothing. Just listened.
“And you’re about to awaken a mana core,” Grace added lightly.
That made Rin’s eyes widen. “What? How would you know?”
Grace held up her hand. “Shh. Don’t bother. You’re just lucky. A commoner who hit the jackpot.” She leaned back, eyes catching the firelight until they almost looked lit from inside. “That’s also why I wanted to talk. To make sure we’re actually on the same page.”
She tilted her head, smile pulling wider. “Because if we’re not, Rin… this whole thing’s gonna get real messy, real fast.”
Her golden bangs caught the lamplight, and she smiled. Blue eyes bright, eerie, like she’d stolen them from a doll. For a second, she wondered if she was fooling Rin or herself. Pretending to be gentle, pretending she cared. Who even knew anymore.
“I’m not cruel,” she continues, voice sugar-sweet. “I honor the deals I make. And honestly, I’d rather we had something better between us than just a hostage and blackmail situation. Because I see your potential.”
Rin did not look relieved. She didn’t look anything. Confused, maybe. Suspicious.
“Yeah, I know you hate me,” Grace said. “But I also know how strong you are inside. And when that shadow core finally forms, I’ll help you shape it. That’s your chance to stop being some street rat and actually be someone.”
Rin’s voice came cracked, rough. “I… I was someone. Lady Callaire helped us. She was kind. We had a future, if not—” She stopped herself, biting the words down.
Grace rolled her eyes inside her skull but kept smiling outside. “Sure. But the situation spiraled. You attacked me first. She was just… a victim of circumstance. It happens.” She waved her hand as if brushing lint from her dress. “I know you hate me for that. And for Leon. But give it time.”
The silence stretched, heavy. Finally, Rin whispered, “So what do you want me to do?”
Grace’s lips curved into a smirk. “Would you kill? I mean, come on, I know you’d try me.”
Rin stared. She was twice Grace’s age but in that moment looked just as young, just as lost. Her eyes burned with something unreadable. Then, steady as stone, she said: “Yes. I would do everything, if you keep your promise. Give me Leon back. The real Leon.”
Grace chuckled inwardly. The real Leon? Girl, even I don’t know if that’s possible. But sure, keep dreaming. Hope’s a great leash.
Out loud, she nodded. “I will. And shadow mages make the best assassins, you know. So, let’s make this precise. No vague ‘a few years.’ Ten assassinations. You do that, our deal is done. I’ll give you everything you need, and after that some gold to start fresh. As my word as a princess.”
Rin didn’t answer at first. She froze, thinking. Grace could almost see the thought written on her face: And after that, I’ll kill you for everything you’ve done.
Grace’s lips twitched. Well, let’s see if you even get the chance.
Finally Rin gave a single nod.
“All right then,” Grace said brightly, clapping her hands together once. “Deal’s a deal. Now let’s start with forming your core.”
The fire popped in the hearth, shadows bending across the chamber walls.
Her smile widened. This is going to be fun.
Comments
Snow2Reaper
“I guess you don’t forget our deal,” Should use "didn't".
Snow2Reaper
By the end I'm sure Rin will wish it was just a few years lol.
