Page 27

T he sun feels like an icepick to my skull as I peel my eyes open.

I’m in a room I haven’t been in before, and I jolt up in fear. It’s a mistake, because my headache intensifies, forcing me to squeeze my eyes shut. Sweat begins to encase my skin, heat siphoning my breath away from my lungs.

A soft crash of waves catches my attention, and the panic begins to retreat. I can hear the Tridonic Sea, smell the warm and salty breeze. When I’m finally able to open my eyes once more, I can see I’m clearly still in the estate. That familiar black marble running through this room. The narrow bed has a soft white comforter that smells like Ridge.

“You’re awake.”

I yelp at the sound of Ridge’s voice, in a chair near the corner, hair tousled. He pushes himself out of the angular chair, striding over to my side. “Are you feeling okay? Do you need water?”

My heart aches at the sight of seeing this man sleeping in a stiff wooden chair rather than leave my side. I take the glass of water he extends my way, gulping it down and handing it back over. I dig the heels of my palm into my eyes, sweet darkness greeting me. “What happened?”

I hear the door creak open as the edge of the bed dips with Ridge’s weight. “You fainted when Laz told you he’s your brother.”

A soft snort from the other side of the room, but I refuse to look up from the darkness to scowl at whoever it is.

“Is it so terrible to be my sister?” Laz taunts from what sounds like the doorway.

“I—I didn’t feel like I fainted. I have never fainted from shock before.” I finally dare to look up from my hands, my vision blurred. My mind still feels scattered as I recall all that happened.

I can tell even with blurred vision that Ridge grimaces at whatever he beholds in my face. “You threw out a pretty intense darkness as you went down.” Pride shines through his voice.

“Where am I?” I look around. This room is far smaller than the others I’ve seen.

“The infirmary, the healers have been tending to you. Although they were a bit stupefied at what happened as well. Using your power inadvertently like that would be unusual with fainting.” Worry lines etch Ridge’s forehead as he inspects me.

I eye the chair in the corner of the room, wooden with sharp edges. “Did you sleep in that?” I point toward it, looking at him incredulously.

He looks at the chair and winces. “Sleep is a relative term.” He rubs at his jaw, looking back at me. I can see how tired he is, his eyes dark and heavy. “I told you, I won’t have you sleeping away from me.”

“I can’t explain it, but I feel violated,” I whisper to Ridge, wrapping my arms around myself. “Something about this doesn’t feel right to me.”

Pure rage hardens Ridge’s face, his nostrils flaring. “Violated, how?”

Nothing in his voice is questioning, only the promise of death to whoever or whatever made me feel this way. “Not like that ,” I reassure him, moving the comforter so I can scoot closer to him.

“ Any kind of violation matters,” he says brusquely, my core heating at the dominance in his voice. “You are mine, and there will be repercussions if someone degraded you in any way.” His eyes seem to burn even bolder, the gold dazzling in the morning sun.

I reach inside for our loose thread and find instead a burning tether of ember linking me to Ridge. It’s thinner than the one I share with Artemis, but its presence is more prominent .

I am right here, no one is going to snatch me from this bed, I tell him soothingly down the tether, taking up his hand. Something doesn’t feel right about what happened; I get the sense that it was not just a bout of fainting.

My words seem to appease him slightly, the hard lines of his face soften. The promise of death still dances in his eyes, though; I memorize how terrifyingly radiant they are like this.

He glances down at our intertwined hands, squeezing my grip slightly. Make no mistake that I would enjoy ripping apart anything or anyone that is a threat to you.

Flipping his palm over, I draw idle lines. What happened to our tether? It’s different now.

He watches me carefully for a moment, pressing his lips together. I don’t know, he admits. When I awoke this morning, it was a burning ember and stronger than I’ve ever felt.

“If you two are having an indecent conversation, could you at least tell us so we can leave?” Nalin now stands in the doorway near Laz, shifting on his feet uncomfortably.

Laz’s face pales. “Ridge, that’s my sister —” He scrunches up his face in disgust. “I’m going to have to find somewhere else to live.”

“Please don’t make promises you won’t keep.” Nalin’s voice is exasperated; he sips from a mug. The smell of coffee floats through the air, meaning it must be morning. I was out for an entire day.

That isn’t what catches my attention, though. “Why are you only now sharing that you’re my brother?” I aim my question at Laz, who still stands near the doorway.

Laz has the good sense to look bashful, fidgeting with one of his daggers. “It didn’t feel right to dump more information on you when you’d only just arrived.” He spins the blade in his hand, looking out the window. “I wanted to tell you the night I escorted you into town, but you were so upset…” He softens his voice. “There was always a reason to delay telling you, I’m sorry for that. ”

I nod, my mouth still feeling so dry, my head throbbing in an agonizing manner. “I’d love to hear about our family. Another time, when my head doesn’t feel like it’s mush.”

Laz chuckles as he slides the knife back into its sheath at his thigh. “Of course, but those headaches might be a common occurrence with Ridge around.”

I ignore him, looking only at Ridge. “I think I need Ingrid.” Realizing what state I must be in after a full day of lying in this bed, I look down and wince. “After I bathe.”

Nalin and Laz take the cue to leave, closing the door behind them. I push myself forward to slide off the bed, my temples throbbing in protest. Ridge stands, scooping me from the side of the bed. I lay my head on his chest, too disoriented to protest. “Thank you,” I offer weakly, closing my eyes at the movement.

He softly kisses my sweaty forehead, and I try not to think of what I smell and look like.

As if sensing my line of thinking, he murmurs against my skin, “It doesn’t matter in the slightest what you look like.” His power floats through the air, and my nightgown vanishes. He places me into a warm bathing tub smelling of lavender.

“Ah ha, I knew you had more secrets,” I joke as I lay my head back on the edge of the tub, closing my eyes. “I’ll forgive you only if you continue to heat my baths from now on.” I hear movement behind me before Ridge is there rubbing my shoulders and neck with an oil. I can’t help the deep moan that escapes me as I fully relax.

He chuckles. “Have you tried using your fire to heat baths?”

Looking up at him, I bring my hands in front of me, willing flames to engulf them. Red fire flickers to life, undeterred by the water. “Yes, I did in the Ravels. It can be quite cumbersome, depending on how large the tub is.”

I let myself melt fully as he washes off the oil, then helps me wash my hair. All the while, I press him about the Ravels, and where the others are. When the water finally runs cold, he helps me up, handing over a fluffy towel. I stand, holding him as my hair drips to the black marble tile below. Feeling our tether flicker with ember, I bury my face into his muscled chest.

“I take it Lamond is back,” I mumble, biting my lip. He and Nalin had gone off scouting the Wall I’d learned while Ridge had helped me bathe. I break our embrace to retrieve my clothes. “Does he know about us?”

“I’m unsure,” Ridge admits as I pull on a flowy brown top, tying the V-neck cut. Tucking my hair into a braid, I turn to face him. “I’ve been in here since you blacked out. The only reason I know about the others is because Laz has given me reports.”

My entire chest and arms pulse with warmth. He was here when I needed him the most.

“Is there anything we can do today?”

Ridge moves to the door, and I follow him into the long hallway stretching toward the office. “I have meetings with the others, and a few of the leaders from neighboring courts. Fradell and Aledon will arrive this morning for a brief meeting, since they can provide immediate aid.”

He watches me from the corner of his eye as we walk. “You mentioned finding Ingrid. I think you should start there. We will reconvene at lunch with our plan.”

I follow Ridge’s line of sight through the kitchen, Ingrid’s dark, cropped hair shining in the light at the dining table.

Leaving Ridge to his meetings, I float into the kitchen, waving a quick good morning to the chef. He’s been the only one here, bent over the stove with a knackered plastered on his weathered face. Offering a sympathetic smile, I take a mug from the counter and join Ingrid at the table.

My stomach still roils with discomfort at what’s happened—a proper breakfast will have to wait.

“There’s the spell-master I’ve been looking for,” I say, sliding into a chair across from her. “I could use your help.”

Ingrid’s eyes flare, taking me in. “You’re awake.” Her eyes flit over her shoulder, then back to me. “What happened? ”

“That’s what I’m hoping you can help me with. I’m not sure the extent of your power, but I wonder if you can try to sort out what came over me yesterday.” I shake my head, focusing on my stoup. “I know I didn’t faint. Something else happened.”

“Something felt very off yesterday. As soon as we learned that you had fainted, I started poking around the house.” Ingrid leans in, dropping her voice an octave. “Something isn’t right in this kitchen, Aledrya. That’s why I’ve been waiting here.”

I halt at her words, fusing my lips together at the movement in the kitchen. The chef comes lumbering over with my morning tonic, his gait unsteady.

“Your drink, miss,” he says curtly before heading back to his post at the stove. The sweat rolling off his neck is concerning. I make a mental note to tell Ridge to ensure the kitchen is a more comfortable temperature for the workers.

I swirl the drink in my hand, looking at Ingrid. “Off how?”

“Being a spell-master allows me to sense when things are righted, when the universe is as it should be. When evils are at work, it feels like my brain burns . That’s what it feels like in this room.” Ingrid presses on her temples with her slender index fingers. “Right now, it’s at an all-time high. I keep trying to sort through spells that might pinpoint it, but my brain is too scattered from whatever this is.”

Looking out the window, I squint against the harsh sun reflecting off the water. “Perhaps we can go back to the Ravels today, investigate their library. It may have access to more spell-master history than we do in the house.”

“More than Ridge’s personal library here? The male has everything,” she snorts. “Especially now. He’s the epitome of arrogance since you two got together.”

Offering a coy smile, I bring the tonic up to my lips…and freeze. Pulling it from my mouth, I try to subtly sniff at the rim.

The odor makes bile rise in my throat.

I set it on the table, widening my eyes at Ingrid to avoid the watchful gaze of the chef as he hunkers over the stove .

I slide my eyes toward the formal living room through the doorway behind me, jerking my head to signal Ingrid to follow. I stand, tonic in hand, and silently creep toward the closed door.

“Going somewhere?”

The chef steps from behind the counter, a large chef’s knife casually hanging in his hand. He uses the blade to point at the glass in my hand. “You haven’t finished your tonic.”

“I’m having it in the other room.” I motion to the still closed door behind me. “I need to go retrieve something from the formal living—”

“Drinks do not leave the kitchen.”

His black beady eyes are narrowing in on me; I hadn’t noticed how lifeless they were. He’s coated in a sweat that seems unhealthy, dripping down his forehead from under his white chef’s hat. Dark, damp hair lining the edges of it. His large body sways back and forth as if he struggles with stability. Ingrid is frozen between us, her green eyes flitting between the chef and his oversized knife.

Before I can blink, Ingrid launches a stoup I didn’t realize she was still holding. “Run!” she screams, shoving me through the door into the living area. I scramble to regain my balance and hold the drink steady. Realizing we only have seconds before he comes through the door behind us, I dash across the room, hiding the glass behind a potted plant. The door swings open as I whip around, and the man trudges through, breath labored. Black blood trickles down his forehead from the mug Ingrid threw.

He says nothing as he breaks into a run toward me, knife angled up. I grab the fire poker from the mantle, swinging it toward him as soon as he gets within reach. It meets flesh, and blood splatters from the contact on his arm. He switches the knife to his other hand, flashing crooked, yellowing teeth at me.

“I’ll make you pay for that, you bitch,” he hisses, spraying spit with his harsh words .

What is happening in that house? Artemis chirps down the tether, but I can’t conjure up the ability to reply. I need my concentration to get the Beneath away from this brute.

Ingrid unsheathes her dagger and flings it at him. He dodges it, and instead it lodges into the wall with a thud. The chef changes course, running at her, slicing at her thigh and drawing blood. Ingrid cries out as the wound opens, but it doesn’t slow her as she unsheathes a second dagger.

“Now you’ve done it,” she growls at him, flinging the knife.

This one impales itself into his shoulder, the chef momentarily pausing. He grins at her, pulling out the dagger and spinning it back on her. I catch him off guard as he sets his sight on Ingrid, coming from the side and landing a direct blow to his kneecaps with the fire poker. He stumbles back, crashing into a table at the edge of the room, glass shattering. He’s back up as quickly as he went down, that horrifying black blood raining off him, then disappearing on the black marble at our feet.

“Why won’t you die!” Ingrid screams as she begins flinging pieces of glass from the table at him. He ignores her completely, eyes transfixed on me. He closes the gap between us, and I take up my fighting stance.

Whirling around, I smash him across the face with the fire poker, the blow so violent that it makes my arm quake. When I turn back to him, his unnerving smile broadens, peering at my arm. I let my gaze drop, seeing the red gathering there. He’d somehow managed to slice me when I’d taken a swing at him. The deep, angry gash is already dripping steadily onto the marble.

He pounces immediately, taking advantage of my shock. He knocks the fire poker from my hand using Ingrid’s dagger, slicing at me again and again with that knife. I dance around him, but run out of space as my back meets the wall. Ingrid scrambles across the room for the fire poker, but he senses her and throws the dagger in her direction.

It lands true, lodging into her abdomen, and sending her to the floor in a heap.

“ Ingrid ,” I cry out, slammed into the wall by the male.

His horrible, hot breath is on my neck as he runs the kitchen knife slowly down my chest. He grips one of the strings I’d used to tie up my shirt this morning and yanks.

“I think I’ll see what is under here before I carve you up.” His smile makes me want to retch.

A deep, primal growl comes from behind the chef. He freezes, turning toward it. Ridge stands in the doorway, his power rippling through the room.

“Absolutely fucking not.”

I blink, and Ridge is mere inches from the chef. Without touching him, he slams the man into the opposing wall with such force that windows shatter on either side of the impact. Ridge’s smile is cruel as he waves a hand, and the chef lifts his own hand holding the knife.

The man’s eyes go wide, and he begins to tremble. “I’ll bet you think you can win this,” he seethes, thrashing against Ridge’s invisible power.

Ridge cocks his head slowly, waiting.

“Abacae and the king are too far ahead of you—” the chef is panting, eyeing the knife centimeters from his skin. “This plan has been in motion for years .”

“The king has no natural power.”

The chef snaps his eyes to Ridge. “The Unborn Vase does.”

Ridge clicks his tongue, bringing the knife closer to the man’s throat. “This has been great, but it seems like you know nothing of true value. I think I’d rather watch you bleed.” With that, he jerks his hand to the side, and the man slices through his own throat.

Collapsing to the floor in a pool of that disgusting black blood, the man hunches over himself.

“Ridge. Help Ingrid,” I pant, barely able to stand on my own. Ridge’s eyes widen, turning toward Ingrid, who is still lying prone on the floor.

“Nalin, we need healers,” Ridge yells, dropping to his knees and rolling Ingrid to her side to prevent her from choking on her own blood .

I let myself stumble forward, more than a day without food finally crashing over my body. My fingers shake as I kneel next to Ridge, taking Ingrid’s delicate hand into mine.

“You’re not allowed to die,” I croak, stroking her hand. “You’re one of maybe three people who like me.” I sob, her breathing shallow as she smiles at me.

“You’re…the…only one…who likes…me,” she pants, her voice trembling. Her once intimidating sharp features wane, sweat beading on her forehead. The wound on her abdomen snags my attention, and I swear, low and filthy, at what I see.

“Nalin—the healers!” I scream over my shoulder, desperate for aid. Ridge is moving me out of the way, ripping off a piece of his shirt to hold to her bleeding stomach.

“They are coming,” he promises, pressing a second piece to her leg. “Where is your family from?” he asks her, making my head snap in his direction.

“My home…” Her eyes soften, her bloodied lips crack a smile. “It was…a flourishing city before…the king destroyed it.”

Ridge’s brows knit together. “We are going to kill him for what he has done to you, to your family, and many other innocent people. But you have to live to help us, Ingrid.”

“I’ll try,” she says, squeezing her eyes shut. “I am so tired.”

“Fight it,” I beg, taking up her hand again. “Please, Ingrid.”

Healers rush into the living room, swarming Ingrid and shoving us out of the way.

“She is going to be all right.” Ridge wraps me in his arms. I can’t help the sob that finally breaks free. “They’re going to help her.”

I can’t breathe through the pain that builds in my chest and my arm from healing itself. Everything from the last few months has finally pushed and elbowed its way to the surface, and I can no longer fight it. It’s a slow burning crack through my heart as they take Ingrid from the room.