Page 97

“You want my leftovers, Eldrion?” Endreth’s voice was considerably louder now. “Have her then. I am done with this one anyway.”

Laughter. And then hands lifted her, and she was suddenly looking at the dark gray fabric of Eldrion’s jacket. Nausea threatened to overpower her as she dangled over his shoulder. Eldrion gripped her ass as he moved through the elven nobles. A display for others—he had claimed his prize for the night.

Once they reached the safety of the Nephrite court’s appointed quarters, Eldrion’s grip loosened, and he put her down.

The moment her feet touched the ground, she stumbled forward, collapsing onto her hands and knees, and retched.

A comforting hand touched her back.

With trembling arms, Anthea pushed herself onto her knees, wiping her mouth and looking down at the mess she had created. “I . . . I should clean this up. I’m sorry,” she muttered, voice wavering. She reached out, intending to scoop up the mess, but strong hands pulled her away from it.

“Leave it.” He lifted her up, turning her around to face him, eyes darting over her ghostly pale face.

“I-I’ve never seen anything like that before. I’m so sorry,” she stammered. “I didn’t mean to?—”

“Anthea, stop,” he whispered, the command in his voice softly wrapped in genuine concern. He guided her over to a basin in the corner of the room. Dipping a cloth into the cool water, he wrung it out before gently wiping away the remnants of vomit from her cheek. The cool touch momentarily broke the haze she seemed to be in. Anthea met his gray eyes, looking for reassurance she hadn’t completely ruined their cover.

His face was unreadable. If he was annoyed—Anthea couldn’t see it.

“Did I . . . did I screw everything up?”

“No. Endreth will fix this. Don’t worry.” He led her to the back room of the quarters, guided her into the soft bed there. Without uttering another word, he fetched a plush blanket from a nearby chest and draped it around her. She felt a sudden lightness as he unclasped her collar, placing it on the wooden table beside the bed.

“Rest,” he murmured, his fingers brushing her cheek. “We will talk about this tomorrow. For now, try to get some sleep.”

Anthea nodded slowly, settling into the bed, and watched as he left the room.

Curled up on the bed, Anthea’s thoughts consumed her, the haunting images and sounds refusing to fade. She shifted her eyes to the twin moons outside her window, their glow illuminating the darkness.

Stupid rocks, she thought bitterly.

“No one could’ve predicted she would react that way,” she heard Aegonar’s voice, coming from the other room.

Another voice, unmistakably Vaelor’s, cut through the muffled conversation. “It could be a problem. If she sees something in that cave she cannot take, then what?”

No, she needed to go in there; she needed to find the next part of the prophecy; she needed to save the next ones.

“Anthea is weak,” Vaelor continued. “She is not ready.”

Her fists clenched the blanket, the soft material crumpling in her grasp.

Endreth’s voice came through more distinctly, concern evident in his tone. “We cannot risk it. There must be another way.”

Each word fed the fire growing inside her, dropping the blanket she was wrapped in and flinging the door open, Anthea snapped.

“Why don’t you ask what she thinks about all this?”

Five pairs of eyes were on her.

Galodir’s eyes bore into her, scrutinizing, before he spoke up. “By all means, tell us, Anthea. What do you think about this?”

She squared her shoulders, crossed her arms over her chest. “This changes nothing.”

Endreth stepped forward. “We don’t know what you will see in that cave. What if it’s something you cannot handle?—”

“Like what? Like the monstrous spectacle earlier? I’m sorry if my reaction to witnessing actual, horrific torture was unsavory. I apologize for being repulsed by the torture and murder of innocent people while everyone else just . . . cheered it on. Watched it as if it was normal.” She swept her eyes over the five elves. “You’ve kept telling me what the Obsidian court is capable of. Well, now I have seen it, so thank you for the valuable lesson.” Her eyes darted around the room again, challenging each and every one of them to argue. “This. Changes. Nothing. Tomorrow, we’ll follow the plan, and I will handle whatever I’ll face in that cave.” Anthea pivoted, fully intending to leave, then paused, glancing over her shoulder. “And for the record,” she began, “I can hear everything from that room. If you wish to discuss me when I’m not here, choose a different place.”

Without waiting for a response, she closed the door behind her with a firm click.