Page 34

Chapter

Thirty-Four

H ours after Thorne leaves, I find myself doing something both reckless and stupid. I clutch the handle of my oil lamp, praying the flame won’t extinguish. Maybe it’s because I’m down here in the middle of the night, but the tunnels are far creepier than before. At least I haven’t seen any bats.

Yet.

You’d think it wouldn’t matter what time it is since we’re underground, but there’s a sinister edge to the air tonight. Or perhaps it’s simply the fact that I’m down here alone. I exhale a sigh. If I hadn’t pushed Thorne away, I could have asked him to come with me.

Perhaps this is something I’m meant to do alone. A few weeks ago, when all of this started, I questioned whether the Fates were intervening in my life. Now I’m almost positive they are. Far too many coincidences have piled up. Meeting Thorne when I did and somehow being the only person who can touch him without harm? And then it turns out the missing weapon I was tasked to find just so happens to be the only thing that can remove my collar and free me from Baylor?

But if I’m right and they are interfering, why? What makes me worthy of their interest? And worst of all, I can’t help but wonder if perhaps it’s not a good thing to attract the attention of the Fates.

These were the worries that plagued me as I tried to fall asleep after Thorne left. Eventually, I gave up trying, deciding instead that I would put my theory to the test. If I return to the spot where I had the odd feeling and find nothing, then I can rest easy knowing it was all in my head. But on the other hand, if I do find something…

I stop those thoughts in their tracks, not ready to face them yet.

My impulsive plan was almost ruined before it even began when I remembered the way Kaldar had cut his hand open to unlock the door. Knowing I needed the blood of someone who’d been authorized to come and go from the tunnels, I dug through my closet searching for the ruined tunic I’d been wearing the day I got soaked In Kipps’s blood. Thankfully, when I smeared it over the stones in the dungeon, the door swung open.

A startled yelp escapes me as something scampers over my foot. Before I can unleash one of my blades upon the crawling menace, it darts into a tiny hole in the cave wall and disappears. My heart gallops as I jump back, scanning the area to make sure none of its little friends are waiting to ambush me. Fucking rodents. If this entire thing is one big joke the Fates are having at my expense, I’m going to find a way to kill those three sisters.

My palms dampen as I continue down the path, making it difficult to keep hold of my lamp. Not that it’s doing me much good since the damn thing only gives off enough light to cover a few feet ahead of me. The journey feels endless, but eventually, I come upon the fork in the tunnel where the lonely staircase waits for me.

The moment of truth passes swiftly.

Just like before, the collar’s reaction is immediate. The rubies warm against my skin, the heat pulsing in waves. Steeling my spine, I don’t give myself time to reconsider my reckless plan as I force my feet up the stairs. With each step I climb, the collar burns hotter. By the time I reach the top, my upper lip is damp with sweat and my breathing turns heavy.

Holding the lamp higher, I realize I’m standing in a small alcove. My forehead creases as I take in the cushioned chair that sits in the corner. Next to it is a small table stocked with a leather bound book, a bottle of spirits, and a single empty glass. While I find these items odd, it’s what’s across from them that turns my blood to ice. Even the heat coming off the collar is no match for the cold spreading through my veins at the sight of iron bars separating the other side of the room, blocking off whatever lies beyond it. Revulsion rises in my throat as my stomach threatens to expel the wine I drank at dinner. The truth of what this place is reverberates through my bones.

A prison.

Based on the angle of the chair and the lack of dust on the items left behind, it’s clear Baylor visits frequently. At least, I assume he’s the one who placed these things here. None of the guards would be that bold.

A flash of movement within the cell startles me, sending my lamp crashing to my feet. The flame flickers wildly, but thankfully, it doesn’t extinguish.

“Careful with that,” a feminine voice calls from within the darkness. “You don’t want to start a fire down here.”

Grabbing the handle of my lamp, I lift it toward the cell and try to make out anything about the space.

“I wondered if you’d come back,” the woman speaks again, her melodic voice closer this time.

My brow furrows at her words. “Back?”

The outline of a woman materializes through the darkness. It’s hard to know for sure, but she appears to be around my height, though her build is much slimmer. Almost frail.

“I sensed you a few weeks ago,” she says, her tone becoming unsure as she sighs. “Or maybe it’s been longer than that? Time has little meaning to me now.”

Her silhouette disappears, followed by the sound of shuffling as she rummages around for something. A few seconds later, another lamp flares to life, illuminating the cell. It’s much larger than I anticipated, and well furnished. Every inch of the floor is covered in rugs and a four-poster bed stands in the corner, covered in thick fur blankets. There’s also a seating area complete with comfortable looking couches and artwork hanging along the walls. I even spy a few bookshelves. Everything about the space feels lived in, as if someone has made this their home for quite some time. But that makes sense given how long she’s been down here.

The moment my eyes settle on the woman before me, I know exactly who she is. After all, I’ve seen her portrait many times.

Maebyn, the Goddess of Illusion.

Hair the color of moonlight hangs past her waist, the shade blending with her nearly translucent skin. Her lips are pale and chapped, and the cheekbones that were once her best feature have become gaunt and jarring, protruding too far from her hollow cheeks. The nightgown she wears is cleaner than I would expect, but it hangs awkwardly from her sunken frame.

Despite all of this, she’s still heartbreakingly beautiful.

Yet the most shocking thing about her appearance isn’t any of that. Instead I’m struck speechless by the sight of the ruby collar that hangs around her throat, an exact replica of my own.

Her indigo eyes watch me process this information, hungrily cataloging every expression that flashes across my face as she studies me the way I have her. Her lips part as emotion ripples across her face, but I’m too lost in my own racing thoughts to translate it.

How is this possible? The Goddess who’s been missing for twenty-five years is right here, caged beneath the palace that was once her home. Despite the questions racing through my brain, there’s one I don’t bother seeking an answer to. The moment I saw the ruby collar around her neck, it was obvious who’s responsible for all of it.

Baylor.

Just thinking his name is enough to send a wave of fury racing through my veins, burning away the shock and fear that had left me frozen. I bend one knee as I start to kneel, a show of respect for the Goddess before me.

“There’s no need for that, little one.” She waves her hand. “No one has bowed to me in years. Stand up, please.”

I rise, not wanting to offend her.

She watches me closely, almost warily. “When you came before, you were searching for the almanova, correct?”

My head snaps back, eyes widening at the mention of the sword. “How do you know about that?”

The barest hint of a smirk pulls at her cracked lips.

“I know many things,” she says vaguely. “I could always hear it talking to the guards, egging them on. It’s grown louder these past few months. More insistent… You’ve heard it too, haven’t you? It spoke to you a few nights ago?”

“How do you know that?”

Her gaze drops to my collar. “Call it intuition. Was that the only time you’ve heard the whispers?”

I nod.

“That will change.” Her voice takes on a sad quality as her eyes glass over, turning distant. “It won’t let either of us go. What was shattered into pieces longs to be whole once more.”

I open my mouth to ask what she means, but she changes the subject before I get the chance.

“He asked me about you, you know,” she announces.

My head jerks back. “Who?”

She ignores my question, rambling on in that strange way of hers. “He wanted to know who you came from.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask.

Was Maebyn always this way or have her years of isolation addled her mind?

“You see, he was afraid he’d have to kill you,” she continues. “At the time, I didn’t have the answers he was seeking.” She moves closer as her hands grip the bars in front of me, her fevered gaze boring into mine. “But now that I’ve seen you, it’s obvious. Those amber eyes could never be a mystery to me, not when they still haunt me every night in my dreams.” Her forehead creases as confusion splashes across her face. “But lately, when I see them, they’re full of anger.” She tilts her head, eyeing me warily. “Will yours turn on me too, I wonder?”

“Who are you talking about? Whose eyes do I have?”

She blinks. “Your father’s, of course. Who else?”

I stand there frozen, absolutely speechless. She knew my father? Since Nigel’s eyes were nothing like mine, I can only assume she’s speaking of my true father, the one whose identity has always been a mystery to me.

“If the other one asks me again, I’ll tell him I don’t know where you came from,” she promises earnestly, shifting the conversation once more. “But if he were smart, he’d have killed you the moment he laid eyes on you.”

A shiver coils down my spine. I glance over my shoulder at the path that brought me here, wondering if I should be running for my life.

Glancing back at the chair that faces her cell, I register that she’s talking about Baylor. He’s the one who asked about me, who wanted to know where I came from. My fists clench at my sides as I realize she’s right. He should have killed me.

“Do you want to know a secret, little one?” she whispers.

I turn to find her clutching the bars, pressing the center of her face between them.

“We Gods are so secretive.” She rolls her eyes. “Always hating for anyone to know our weaknesses. But I remember when the Gods were new, when we believed we were immune to weakness. That all changed the day Claudius was murdered.”

My eyes widen. “You were there?”

She nods. “I’d never seen my father that furious. Of course, this was back before we began sending our children away to be raised in secret. Before we knew that would become necessary. We hadn’t learned yet just how vulnerable an Heir was before they were fully ascended.” Her knowing eyes cut to me conspiratorially. “But that’s a different secret for a different day.” She shakes her head. “When Philo killed Claudius, everything changed. My father had warned him not to touch the almanova . But Philo was always optimistic in those early days, never believing anything truly bad would happen. He was wrong.”

“You mean when Philo used the sword to kill Claudius?” I ask. “The book was right…”

Her eyes brighten, a genuine smile warming her face. “Oh, you found my history book? Was it still hidden in the library after all this time?”

My eyebrows pull together. “ Your history book?”

“Of course.” She shrugs. “Who else could have written it? I left it so there might be some small record of the truth hidden among all the lies.”

I want to ask her what other lies she’s referring to, but she moves on too quickly.

“Back to my secret, little one,” she continues. “The almanova is dangerous in the hands of both mortals and fae. It whispers to them, warps their minds and bends their will. But did you know that in the hands of God, it becomes divinely lethal?”

Chills race over my skin. “What are you saying?”

“In the hands of God, the almanova becomes a God Slayer.”

Her words echo what was written in the book.

“That’s why Baylor wants Thorne to use the sword for him,” I whisper to myself. “He plans to kill you.”

She nods.

“But why?” I ask. “What would he gain from that if you’re already trapped down here?”

Sadness creeps into her eyes. “Once I’m gone, my Heir will ascend.”

“And he plans to kill them next?”

Her gaze falls. “You’d have to ask him about his plans. They stopped making sense to me a long time ago.”

“Did you know Baylor?” I ask. “Before all of this?”

She shakes her head, her eyes turning distant. “I knew of him, but I hadn’t seen him since he was a boy. His mother once served in my court, a very long time ago.”

Baylor has never mentioned his parents. I tried to ask once, but he shut me down. “What happened to her?”

“I expect he ended her life shortly after taking the throne.”

“Why?” I gasp. I knew Baylor was capable of anything, but killing his own mother is a new level of evil.

“Because in this world, those who love us the most are usually the ones who destroy us. I pray he at least gave her a swift end,” she says. “Not the slow death he’s giving me.”

“You aren’t going to die,” I promise. “I’ll find a way to get you out of here.”

“You should worry about getting yourself out.” Her eyes harden. “I’m far too wise to lie to myself. I will die here in this cell. It’s only a matter of when.”

I yank at the bars, but they won’t budge. I pull again and again until my arms are shaking and sweat is dripping from my brow.

“It won’t work. I’ve tried many times. Only the almanova can cut through these bars.. Ironic that the weapon that brings my freedom also brings my death.”

“No,” I argue. “I can’t leave you here.”

“There’s strength in acceptance, little one.” A wistful smile pulls at her lips. “I welcome the next world. May it bring me the peace I never found in this one.”

Her words echo something the Goddess of Divination said to me at the ball. The truth cannot be fought, child. Only accepted.

I shake my head. “No. I won’t accept this.” Memories flood my mind, haunting images of Leona’s pale face, frozen in death. “He doesn’t get to do this. Not again.”

Her gaze falls to the collar around my throat. “How long have you been chained?”

“Fifteen years,” I admit. “Since I was a child.”

“Terrible things happen to those who meddle with fate.” She reaches her frail arm through the bars. The sight of her bony wrist makes my eyes burn. Her fingers are cold as they brush across my cheek, wiping away an escaped tear. “But remember, fate can only be delayed, never changed.”

Her eyes are sharper now than they were before. For a moment, I catch a glimpse of the cunning Illusionist she once was.

“Some Heirs were fated to rise, others to fall. But your destiny, is yours to claim, Iverson.”

I open my mouth to ask her what that means, but she pulls her hand back.

“It’s time for you to go now. It’s dangerous to linger.” Worry creeps into her eyes as she glances at the darkness behind me. “Find the sword and break the chains that bind you. Go now. And don’t come back, lest you find yourself trapped down here too.”

I meet her gaze, finding a hint of shame hiding there.

“Go,” she says again.

Picking up her light, she prepares to extinguish it but pauses, taking one last look at me.

“You truly are very beautiful.” Dampness coats her eyes as they rake over my face, scanning each small feature. “So like your father.”

The flame flickers out, and her cell is cast in darkness once more. I try to think of a way to set her free. It feels important, as if that’s why I was led here. But it’s useless. The bars are enchanted, just like my collar. The only way to free her is to find the sword.

It’s not only about my own freedom anymore.

With one last look, I turn and walk back through the cave, promising myself that I will find the almanova and free us both.