Page 85

Evander

T here needs to be more time. More time for me to explain what I know of the high priestess, to tell Bria who she is before we see her. I’ve been avoiding it and now it’s coming back to bite me in the ass. I’ve had the time, but I’d just found every reason within me, every excuse not to tell her.

And when she finds out, she’s going to kill me. Or leave me. I’m honestly not sure which is worse.

I kept telling myself I couldn’t bear to see the flames in her eyes flicker with hatred toward me. Couldn’t stomach the thought. Not again. But now, I’m determined. I’ll tell her on the ride to the temple, away from the prying ears and eyes of the castle.

At least that’s what I think until Bria and I descend the stairs hand in hand and see my father waiting for us.

And he doesn’t offer us horses. Instead, he motions for us to follow him.

He leads us back, far back, into the deepest corner of Castle Eccleston.

Past the kitchens, the servants’ rooms, and the guards’ quarters. To a small room.

A room I know like the back of my fucking hand.

It’s all dark gray stone, no windows, no furniture, just a large tapestry with the symbol of Vaohr emblazoned on it.

This isn’t a room you relax in or entertain people in.

It’s not even a room that’s used at all by the servants or the guards.

This room is merely a distraction—a bleak, miserable little corner of the castle that draws no attention.

Because behind that gaudy tapestry lies the entrance to the dungeons.

And he is leading Bria and I right for it.

“What the fuck is going on?” I ask, trying to keep fear from clamping my vocal cords tight.

There is no good fucking reason Aamon would lead us down into the depths of the castle.

We are supposed to be heading to the temple.

My jaw clenches as I look at the wall holding the large tapestry and my mind begins to race.

Had he figured it out? Does he know we aren’t here to help him at all, but to rescue Nimai and betray him again?

Fuck. Me.

“Watch your tongue, Son. The high priestess is a very busy woman. She does not have time today to travel to the temple. She still has much work to do this evening after she meets with you,” he remarks, not bothering to look at me.

I shake my head. “I understand she’s busy, but does she really want Lady Bria to go down there?” I gesture toward the ominous wall.

My father turns to look at me then, anger turning his eyes nearly black. It’s foolish to question him, and more so to question her . But my stomach is twisting into knots, telling me that we might not return if we follow him down those stairs right now.

“Evander,” he warns, snarling my name. “You know better than anyone to question the high priestess and her methods.” He spins on his heel and strides toward the tapestry, pulling it aside to reveal the door.

“And besides, do you think your betrothed should go into this blind? This new role of hers? Or should she know exactly what she’s getting into? ”

His words strike me. They want her to know what’s happening? They have no intention of making this easy on her, making her comfortable or pulling the wool over her eyes. Not anymore. They are looking for her to suffer. I’m not sure what changed for that to happen.

Bria’s body stalls, staring ahead at the door like her feet have grown roots and embedded themselves into the stone floor beneath her.

The iron door is imposing, a heavy latch keeping it in place with a large lock.

I have to yank her arm to get her to move forward because Aamon is pushing through the doorway ahead of us and I know hesitating will just be worse than facing who waits for us in the dungeons.

The stairs are made of ancient uneven stone, steep and shallow, making for a slow descent into darkness.

Aamon grabs a lantern hanging at the doorway and begins to make his way down the steps ahead of us.

I move to throw the drawbar in place behind Bria and her eyes lock on me as I barricade us in. Fear possesses her features.

“Just in case anyone gets too curious,” I explain, aware Aamon can hear me from where he stands a few steps below.

Aamon grunts from below, “Vaohr help them if they do.”

Bria grabs ahold of the long, navy-blue skirts in her hand as she picks her way down the steps.

I take her other hand in my own, staying ahead of her to keep her steady on the stairs.

The air starts to become thick and damp, sticking in my nose as we creep our way down.

I know we are nearing the long hall of cells when the stench hits me.

I hear Bria suck in a breath behind me as I switch to breathing from my mouth, bile threatening to surge outward.

“Breathe through your mouth, not your nose,” I whisper to her, Aamon now quite ahead of us, not slowed by the rippling skirts of a gown.

I catch a glimpse of her face in the dim light and can see she’s ready to heave if she continues to breathe in the potent smell. She nods and parts her lips, twisting her fingers tighter with mine.

“What is that?” she asks as we near the end of the stairs and the opening that leads to the source.

I don’t risk glancing back at her as I answer, not needing to see her reaction.

She doesn’t recognize this smell because she has never needed to know it, to have it haunt her.

I desperately wish that I could tell her I don’t know, that I have no idea the horrors that could be behind a stench like that.

But this is a smell I became far too accustomed to in my time here.

“It’s the smell of rotting,” I say, letting loose a long sigh, thinking I never had to speak of this place or return to it again. But here I am, stomach turning with the knowledge of what we are about to come face to face with.

“But rotting what? I’ve smelled this before, in my visions.” She still doesn’t get it. Doesn’t understand what she is about to see. Though to be fair, I’ve had no chance to fully prepare her for all of this.

The stairs end and my boots hit the old dirt floor, kicking up a swirl of dust around my knees. I look up, holding her hand tightly as I meet her wide gaze.

“Flesh,” I manage through gritted teeth, and watch as her eyes flare and disgust grips her features, making her mouth go slack.

Leaving Bria with that horrid reality, I turn back around, pulling her along with me. We breach the low archway and Bria tucks in beside me, her fingers pressing into the back of my hand, squeezing the fine bones hard enough that it feels she may break them.

She’s terrified, and rightly so, but relief hits me like a fucking brick when Aamon opens the door to the first cell with a loud scraping noise and slips inside.

It means we aren’t trekking through the maze of barred rooms that runs the length of the castle.

There are far more dank cells under the palace than the wing we are currently in.

So many more than she probably knows. And I’m aware some hold the living, some the dead, and some who waver halfway in between—in another realm where their magic has been drained and they long for death, but the high priestess has yet to give it.

Not until they fulfill their destiny. Not until they have given everything back to Vaohr.

The urgency increases as we round the corner to the cell.

I have to tell her. There’s no more time left.

She is seconds from finding out anyway and now it probably won’t matter, but I stop in the entryway, blocking her view of the dirty, barred room.

I drag a hand through my hair, tugging at it, and Bria’s face blossoms with concern when she observes my distraught reaction.

“Bria, there’s something I need to tell you,” I quickly begin, the words tumbling out.

But it’s too late, I know it before I turn. All the blood drains from Bria’s already pale face as she stares over my shoulder, making her a ghostly white. She looks as if she might faint, and I wouldn’t blame her at all if she did.

“Hello, Bria.” The voice drifts out from behind me. It’s a soft whisper, gentle across your skin. Not at all what you would expect from the high priestess, the woman known to tear people apart through their minds.

“Bria, I’m so sorry,” I choke out.

My heart feels like it’s being cleaved in two when she tears her gaze away and lets it land on me.

Her eyes flicker with flames, magical cobalt and sapphire rippling through them.

I struck the match that started that fire.

I brought her down here and let her come face to face with my worst nightmare. My secret, my shame.

Bria says nothing. She just glowers at me like I’ve locked her in this dungeon and hurt her, like I did those unspeakable things to her sister. She stares at me like I’m the villain. And I suppose, right now, I am.

I turn away from Bria, even though it pains me to do so.

And there she is. The long, royal blue robes she dons flow over her ethereal body.

Her hair falls in light chestnut waves around her face and shoulders, pouring out from beneath the hood she wears.

She still looks as I remember from when I was a child, her aging halted by magic.

Her eyes lock onto me, flames of gold and brown dancing within, and a beautiful smile breaks out across her face.

No matter the circumstances, I cannot help the responding smile that explodes across my own.

“Hello, Mother,” I say softly as she extends her arms.

Her embrace is tight and full of warmth.

She is so strong now, surprisingly so after all that has happened to her.

After all he did to her. My father stands off to the side, watching the two of us, examining the interaction and likely making notes in his head regarding what to do with us.

The soft fabric of her robes ghosts over my skin as I pull back.