Casimir blinked, gathering his thoughts. He cleared his throat and replied, “Ethervale is the Isle of Daemons.”
“Where is it?”
He shot me an exasperated look. “I can’t justtellyou,” he said.
“Why not?”
“Because its location is strictly secret. I can tell you it’s an island off the coast of Maine, not far from here.”
“What’s it like?”
“It’s…” The words caught in his throat. “Home. It’s beautiful, but brutal. Ethervale is no place for mortals.”
A magical isle, only a few miles from the Isle of Lorn. Hearing Casimir confirm the existence of such a place rattled me more than I cared to admit. How could the myths my father told me about the island when I was a girl be true?
“How exactly do you know Devereaux? Or do all Daemons know each other?” I quipped.
“Ha, ha,” Casimir retorted, lowering himself into an armchair and fixing me with an inscrutable look. Behind his dark curls, the gold earring glinted.
I only realized I’d been staring at it when he cleared his throat.
“I’ve known Devereaux for many years. We were both raised in Ethervale, yes, but more importantly, our families moved in the same circles. My mother made it her business to rub-elbows with all the powerful families at court—at least, until Devereaux’s uncle ruined everything. Devereaux was raised to inherit power. He’s far more talented than Evren, as you may have guessed, and certainly more cunning.”
“As a Siphoner, Devereaux’s abilities allow him to force others to bow to his will. His talents are, in a word, singular. In addition to his mental compulsion, or what you called mentalism, his glamour causes victims to feel nauseous or lethargic. It’s why you felt drained that night after meeting him in the Tusk.”
“A Siphoner?”
He nodded. “A Siphoner is a type of Daemon whose glamours manifest as compulsion. In addition to seizing control over their victim’s physical bodies, Siphoners also possess the ability to bypass mental barriers and ‘speak’ into their victim’s minds. Usually in the form of commands,” he added with a grimace. “You experienced this firsthand, I believe. However, it’s rare you would ever come across another Siphoner.”
“Why is that?”
“In Ethervale, Daemons are divided into different castes based on bloodlines and magical ability. The rarer and more potent the magic, the higher the rank. Family bloodlines, nobility, and magic all contribute to the ranking of any individual in the caste. Names are important. Devereaux’s family, the Graves, were in power for many years,” he explained.
“What happened to them?” I asked.
“Devereaux’s father, Evander Graves, was King in Ethervale. As his eldest son, Devereaux was supposed to inherit the throne, but Evander died of a strange illness while he was still young. Until Devereaux came of age, his uncle Caladryn wasnamed King Protector. It was apparent to everyone that Caladryn reveled in his position. Predictably, he was reluctant to relinquish his power so easily.” Casimir smirked as he recalled the details of this betrayal. “So, when Devereaux came of age, Caladryn claimed that Devereaux’s mother had conducted affairs, making her and Evander’s children illegitimate.”
My mouth fell open, but Casimir continued. “Caladryn became the False King of the Drekavac, as some folk called him. His reign was cut short when he made the fatal mistake of marrying Nymara Pax.” Casimir’s smile grew vicious. “Caladryn wasn’t stupid, but he was greedy. He wanted an alliance with Pax due to her reputation for dabbling in bloodmagic. He wanted access to her power. Before their first anniversary, Pax had Caladryn killed by an assassin and seized the throne for herself. Can’t say I blame her, he was an absolute twat.”
“And Nymara Pax,” I said. “What’s she like?”
Casimir laughed. “A more bloodthirsty and malevolent ruler has never befallen Ethervale. But that’s to be expected of someone like her. A serpent among snakes. The council oversees her rule, ostensibly to keep her in check.” He shrugged. “However, they have little means to keep a true autocrat like Pax in line.”
“How does Devereaux fit into all of this?” I asked.
“Given the politically charged and perilous environment of court under his uncle Caladryn and later under Nymara, Devereaux spent much of his younger years hiding out in the mortal realm, which is probably why he felt inclined to establish a home here on the Isle of Lorn.”
“Let me get this straight,” I began, trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle together, “You’re telling me that Devereaux Graves,Princeof fuckingDaemons, spent years hiding out on the isle, masquerading as an American aristocrat?” I couldn’t stop my incredulity from leaching into my voice. “And now you believehe’s here to perform some sort of ritual to… what? Regain his stolen throne?”
Casimir didn’t answer. Again, he watched me carefully, and from his silence, I gathered I must be pretty close to the truth.
“But why come to Ouverham to perform a magic ritual in the first place?”
The answer came to me with cold, sharpened clarity. A ritual most mortals didn’t survive. He was here for bodies.
“Oh gods… !” I felt sick.
Casimir shot me a quelling look. “Keep your voice down,” he scolded, his gaze darting around the library. “Look, what Devereaux does is not your problem. Don’t make me regret telling you about this.”