Page 48

Chapter 47

Cyrus

"I expected someone... not so dirty,” Nuri said.

Cyrus sti?ed his sigh at her complete lack of caring about anything.

The Sorceress moved forward one step, violet eyes brightening. “Child of the Night.”

“Contessa,” Nuri corrected with a saccharine smile.

The Sorceress sniffed the air, her brow furrowing. “You smell of other worlds.”

“I get that a lot.”

“By the gods, Nuri,” Cyrus muttered. He’d drag a hand down his face, but the shirastone shackles on his wrists didn’t provide for much movement and burned with the smallest shift of his hands.

But the Sorceress’s face had been ?lled with an eerie smile that Cyrus did not like one bit.

“You have a lover, Contessa.” Nuri scoffed. “I have many.”

“At one time. But now you have only one.”

Nuri’s mouth snapped shut, her features darkening.

The Sorceress’s eyes moved over Cyrus and Neve with disinterest before landing on Ashtine who was standing between him and Nuri. The princess was studying the Sorceress as much as the Sorceress was studying her.

The Sorceress stepped closer to the bars again, hunger glimmering in her eyes. “You carry power in your belly, Princess of Wind.” Then she let out a shrill laugh. “You broke the rules. Water and Wind. Wind and Water. What will they do about this, hmm?”

Ashtine’s head tilted. “Perhaps one should worry about what they will do to you, yes?”

The Sorceress’s laughter abruptly stopped, her gaze snapping back to Ashtine’s. She sniffed again. “You walk among the winds.”

“Not any longer.”

“The one in your belly will.”

“The other will sing to the water and see among the waves,” Ashtine agreed.

The Sorceress’s eyes dropped to Ashtine’s swollen belly again. “So much power,” she murmured. Then her head whipped to the stairwell. “You lurk in the shadows. Enter.”

Alaric stepped into the room that housed the Sorceress’s cell, an arrogant curve on his lips.

He had taken them from the Southern Islands straight to the Black Halls where shirastone had immediately been slapped onto all three of them. Cyrus had been escorted to the cells below the Halls, but Neve told him she had been allowed to attend to Ashtine in a guest suite. The Assassin Lord had even summoned a Healer to check Ashtine over. Neve had seemed surprised, but Cyrus wasn’t. This was how he operated. Scarlett had told him countless tales of how he had punished her and then taken care of her. Hurt her then soothed her. Broke her and then made her dependent upon him.

He had just ?nished a meager breakfast of cold porridge and a hard-boiled egg when guards had come for him. He’d been brought to the prison with Neve and Ashtine, Alaric apparently not planning to wait for Briar. The Maraan Prince wouldn’t be able to free the Sorceress, but he could talk to her. Why Cyrus had been dragged down here though, he hadn’t quite yet ?gured out.

The Sorceress’s eyes roved slowly up Alaric, and when they landed on his face, she said, “You are older than when I saw you last.”

“So are you,” he answered, hands slipping into his pockets as he sauntered slowly to the center of the room. “The last time I saw you, you were with child.”

The Sorceress hissed at him, a look Cyrus couldn’t decipher crossing her face.

“You do not look well, Gehenna.”

The Sorceress’s lip curled up into a snarl. “Do not call me that here.”

“You do not appear to be in a position to make demands.”

“If you wish me to aid you, you will rethink that position.”

“You will aid me because Achaz demands it of you,” Alaric replied sharply.

The Sorceress gripped the bars, a wince crossing her features at the bite of the shirastone. “He is here?”

“Not yet.”

She shoved off the bars in disgust. “Then you waste my time. I can do nothing from in here.” She whirled back, fury lighting her features. “You have left me in here for centuries, Alaric.” She was back at the bars again, face pressing to the shirastone, bare feet scraping against the base of the bars. “I am starving. That girl tricked me,” she spat.

“Shh,” Alaric soothed, stepping closer. “I know what she did, Gehenna, and we will make her pay for all of it. I will free you soon.”

“If you are not here to do so now, then leave. The price of my aid is my freedom from this cell. No more deals. No more bargains,” the Sorceress said, wrenching herself off the bars once again.

Cyrus watched as she paced the cell, hands pulling at her limp black hair. He had never seen the female before. Never been this deep in the Water Prison. She had clearly lost her mind down here in the centuries of solitude with rarely a visitor.

“Now, now,” Alaric chided. “You do not need to be like that. I am not here to make a deal or a bargain. I came to bring you a gift until I can free you.”

“A gift?” she asked, head cocking eerily. Her eyes darted to Ashtine’s belly. “The babes?”

Ashtine lurched back, hands splaying over her stomach, and she shifted to hide it from the Sorceress.

“Unfortunately, no,” Alaric said sympathetically. “They have been promised to another.”

The Sorceress made a sound of disgust. “I want nothing else.”

“Then I shall take my leave and take my gift with me,” Alaric said with a shrug, turning to the stairwell.

“Wait!” the Sorceress cried, ?inging herself back onto the bars and causing all the Fae to take a few steps back. The reverberating clang made Cyrus wince. That had to hurt the way she threw herself at shirastone like that.

“Tell me what the gift is.”

“Too late,” Alaric called over his shoulder, not breaking his stride.

“Come back!” she wailed. “I will barter with you.”

That made Alaric pause. He turned back slowly. “I could be persuaded.”

“What is my gift?”

“Blood.”

Her eyes widened. “How much?”

But Alaric shook his head, that arrogant smirk tilting again. “First, what I get from you.”

“What do you want?”

“A location Mark. To ?nd something,” he replied.

“What is it?”

“Not your concern.”

“Then I do not want your gift.” The Sorceress pushed off the bars again, moving to the wall and dragging her nails along it as she went. The high-pitched sound had Cyrus grimacing.

Alaric growled, cursing under his breath. “The lock, Gehenna. I wish to locate the lock.”

“The lock?” the Sorceress repeated, looking back over her shoulder. Her head tilted again. “I gave that to your mother before I was put in here.”

“And she hid it within her cliffs. I cannot ?nd it.”

The Sorceress eyed him thoughtfully, before she stooped down and began drawing in the dirt of her cell with her ?nger. “How much blood do I get for this?”

“Enough to play with,” Alaric replied. “Along with company.”

The Sorceress’s head cocked again, indicating she was listening as she continued to draw the Marks. Alaric ambled closer to the bars, watching her intently. “I thought you may want to... practice some before you are released.”

“I do not need practice. I just need my spell book,” she muttered, wiping away at the dirt before drawing again. Cyrus couldn’t help but think of how Scarlett often did the same thing when she would work with the Marks.

“I bet he knows where she hides it,” Alaric said nonchalantly.

The Sorceress’s head snapped up. “Who?” she snarled.

Alaric nodded at Cyrus. “This one is particularly close with Queen Scarlett. I bet he has knowledge of where she keeps your spell book hidden.”

“Is this true?” she hissed, furious eyes landing on Cyrus.

“What? No,” Cyrus said, stepping back again from the crazy female behind the bars.

“You are lying, Fae of Fire,” she sang. “I can taste it in your words.”

“My locating Mark, Gehenna,” Alaric encouraged, nodding to the dirt at her feet. “Then I give him to you.”

Cyrus looked at Ashtine and Neve, who both looked as shocked as he felt. He turned to Nuri. “Did you know?” he hissed at her.

Nuri’s lips were pressed tightly together. “I was not told of this, Cyrus.”

“No,” Alaric sneered, glancing back at them. “My daughter is not told all of my plans.”

“Your hand,” the Sorceress demanded.

Alaric pulled a small knife from his side, sliding the blade along his palm, before slipping his arm between the bars and letting his blood drip onto the Marks she had made.

“It will call to you within the cliffs,” the Sorceress said, standing upright once more. She licked her lips, eyes moving to Cyrus. “My gift.”

“Of course, Gehenna. I am, after all, a man of his word,” Alaric said smoothly. He nodded at Nuri. “Take the females up. I will be along shortly. I have a meeting with a Water Prince tomorrow morning that I need to prepare for.”

Nuri began ushering Ashtine and Neve towards the stairs. The look in her eyes was full of regret as she glanced back at Cyrus, but he did not need her pity. She had made her choice to swear loyalty to Alaric. There was nothing she could do for him.

A slice of pain at his forearm had him lurching back, but Alaric had a ?rm grip on his elbow. His blood was dripping into a small vial, and when it was full, he corked it. The Sorceress was at the bars, watching eagerly, that hunger back in her crazed violet eyes. Alaric reached through the bars, extending the vial of blood to her, and she snatched it up, clutching it close to her chest.

Alaric slipped his hand into his pocket producing a small key and ?tting it into the shackles on Cyrus’s wrists.

“These are rather pointless down here, don’t you think?” Alaric asked conversationally.

He wasn’t wrong. Once you passed a certain point in the prison, magic was locked down. No one could access their gifts, including the royalty.

“You are going to leave me down here?” Cyrus asked, trying to ?gure out what exactly was going on.

“You are a prisoner, are you not?” Alaric asked, unlocking the other manacle.

“You cannot open her cell,” Cyrus said.

“I am well aware of that,” he said harshly. “Are you taking me to another?”

“That will not be necessary.”

“You are going to leave me down here?’ Cyrus asked again in confusion.

“I promised Gehenna some company in exchange for her services,” Alaric said, stepping back, the shirastone shackles in his hand. He turned and headed for the stairwell.

“What is to stop me from simply taking the stairs?” Cyrus asked, tailing him.

A look of amusement ?lled Alaric’s face when he turned back, already on the ?rst step. It made him a little taller than Cyrus, and he leaned down to say softly, “Your demons.”

Cyrus lurched back from him. What the fuck did that mean?

“Do you know why she is so dangerous?” Alaric asked.

“Because she is fucking crazy?” Cyrus guessed.

Alaric gave him a tight smile. “She knows how to ?nd your demons, Fire Second. She knows how to ?nd them and likes to play with them.”

“What does that mean?”

“You will soon learn,” he replied.

“And if Scarlett comes for me in three days as you agreed?”

His features darkened. “If she deigns to respond to my summons, I suppose I can easily come and collect you.” His head tilted, eyes scanning over Cyrus. “Of course, I never stated what condition you would be returned in, now did I?”

Cyrus felt himself pale at his words.

A cruel smirk curled on his mouth. “Oh yes, Fire Second. My wraith is about to learn what warfare truly is. She has pushed me to this. We could have all had everything we wanted, could have lived peacefully with each other, if she would have just done what she was trained to do. Now it has come to this,” he seethed. “Now she will watch as I hunt down everyone she loves and destroy them.”

“She will kill you before you kill all of us,” Cyrus retorted.

He tsked in mock sympathy. “Now, Cyrus, you of all people know there are things so much worse than death.” He looked over Cyrus’s shoulder. “See you soon, Gehenna.”

Cyrus watched him go up the stairs until his footsteps no longer echoed off the walls, then he slowly turned to face the Sorceress. She stood in the center of her cell, watching him intently. Her eyes were bright with excitement, and Cyrus moved to the wall across from her cell, leaning against it. His hands were loose at his sides. There were braziers along the wall, spaced between the windows that showed him an endless expanse of water. The occasional merguard swam by or a small school of ?sh, but that was it.

Several seconds ticked by as the two watched each other before she said, “Would you like to hear a story?”

“What will it cost me?” Cyrus countered.

She smiled, a terrifying, wicked thing. “You have already paid the price,” she said, lifting the vial of his blood in her hand.

He shrugged. “Then sure.”

The Sorceress began moving back and forth in her cell. “In all things there must be balance. Beginnings and endings. Light and dark. Fire and shadows. The worlds are no different. Beings emerged from the Chaos to create such a thing.”

“I already know this one,” Cyrus said, crossing his arms.

“Why must everyone always interrupt my stories?” the Sorceress snapped viciously.

Cyrus raised a brow. “My apologies.” He waved a hand dramatically. “Please continue.”

“Thank you,” she replied, resuming her prowling around the cell. “They went to various parts of the stars, setting up their own kingdoms, maintaining balance. The Firsts created the Lessers, and from them the various worlds grew and prospered. Some grew faster than others. Some worlds were favored more than others. But the scales began to tip as some grew more powerful than others, so two sisters were created to help keep the balance. Without them, new beings could not be created. And so new beings were brought into existence. Some were scattered among the worlds, and some were kept close.”

Cyrus’s arms dropped to his side once more. Maybe he hadn’t heard this one before.

“Do you speak of Taika and Zinta? The Sister Goddesses?”

The Sorceress’s face fell. “You do already know this story.”

“No,” he said quickly. “No. I do not. Keep going.”

The Sorceress immediately began moving again, dragging her ?ngers along the wall. “The ability to give new beings life was granted to the Sister Goddesses, but their gifts had to be combined with another’s. They worked closely with the other gods, eventually becoming loyal to Beginning or Ending.

“Beginning and Ending began to compete in what type of beings they could create, but when their Legacy needed something to feed their power, they came together to create a being speci?cally for them.”

“The Fae,” Cyrus breathed in fascination, taking a step closer to the cell.

“Yes,” she said with excitement. “Taika worked with Anala and Silas, Anahita and Sefarina. They created and brought to life the Elemental Fae. But Zinta?” The Sorceress paused, looking back at Cyrus over her shoulder, that manic delight back in her eyes. “Zinta was much more creative. She worked with others to create Fae that do more than control elements. These Fae could see into people’s minds, move things with a thought. They could amplify emotions or heal with a touch.”

The Sorceress stared at Cyrus expectantly. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“What did you think of my story?”

That was it? “It was very... interesting. Thank you for sharing it with me,” he replied. Then she straightened, pulling the cork from the vial. She dipped a long ?nger inside and began to draw a Mark on the wall of her cell with his blood. “What are you doing?”

“They created more than the Fae, you know,” she said, ?nger moving rapidly now.

“I know.” Inching closer to the cell, he repeated, “What are you doing?”

“They created so many beings, but none as powerful as their own children. We can do so much with blood and the right combination of lines on a wall. Did you know we can create new Marks and spells?”

Her speech was coming faster, growing more hysterical.

“It takes years, sometimes decades, to get it right,” she continued, fury lacing her words now. “We keep them all in our spell books.”

Well fuck.

The Sorceress’s arm slowly lowered to her side, the Mark she had drawn on the wall ?aring brightly for a second before she turned to face him. “Where does she keep my spell book?”

“I do not know.”

“No!” she cried, gripping the bars once more. “Tell me, Fae of Fire. Tell me where she hides it.”

“Even if I knew, what difference would it make?” Cyrus countered. “You are stuck in there. We are both stuck in here.”

The Sorceress went eerily still. “Have you ever been stuck in a nightmare?”

“I am fairly certain I am in one right now.”

Her lips curved up. “You are amusing. I think I enjoy your company.”

“You haven’t had any in decades, so I guess it’s not much to compare to, but thank you?”

She pressed her face to the bars. “I like you,” she whispered. “But I like your demons more.”

“Wh—”

But the word never ?nished crossing his lips because he found himself staring at a young kid, no more than eighteen. He was tall and lean, not muscled like Cyrus had been. His light brown hair fell forward over his brow and hung into his green eyes. He had high cheekbones and a square jaw, and when his mouth curved in a half-smile, a dimple appeared in his right cheek.

Merrik.

Cyrus stumbled back a step, the cry of a gull causing him to look up into the sky, the bright sun making him squint. He inhaled sharply, the smell of the sea assaulting his senses.

No.

No, no, no.

“No,” he gritted out.

When he turned back to look at Merrick again, he was gone. He was staring into violet eyes behind bars.

“What the fuck was that?” he demanded.

“Where is my spell book, Fae of Fire?”

“I don’t know.”

The scent of blood hit him, and he whirled, falling to his knees at the body that was at his feet. Blood pooled around the female. Red hair the color of ?ames was ?ecked with mud and gore. There were puncture wounds at her throat, on her arms, on her stomach. Puncture wounds from fangs. Lifeless hazel eyes stared unseeingly at the roof of the cave they were in.

“Thia!” he cried, tears already wetting his face as he reached for her limp body. Blood coated his hands when he slipped them beneath her shoulders, pulling her into his lap. He buried his face in her hair, saying her name over and over again.

“Where is my spell book?” came a whispered voice.

Cyrus opened his eyes to ?nd himself kneeling on the ?oor of the prison. He growled, swiping the wetness from his face as he turned to face the Sorceress. “Stop that,” he growled

“Where is my spell book?”

“I do not know.”

He found himself standing in a room with a male glaring at him, eyes glowing an amber-red with vertical pupils, and he turned away. His hands went into his hair, tugging at the strands.

This is not real .

He told it to himself over and over, beginning to pace. She would pull him out of this eventually. He just needed to wait her out, wait for her to take him back out of this nightmare.

A moment later he was back in the prison.

“You can alter reality,” he gritted out. “Like Lord Tyndell.”

“The Maraan stole that power,” she spat. “But not me. No, no, no, Fae of Fire. He can only use his power in short bursts. But me? I can climb inside that pretty little Fae mind. I can dig around and bring you with me. I can keep you where I like you to stay for as long as I want you to stay there. Where the nightmares lurk and the demons linger. I coax them out with promises of life.”

Then he was in a small room overlooking the docks. There was an unmade bed in one corner, a few blankets with holes thrown haphazardly across it. A table and two mismatched chairs were against another wall next to a small icebox. An open ?re pit was in the center of the room, a trunk of clothing items along another wall.

Cyrus turned at the sound of footsteps on the stone stairs that led to their loft, and Merrik came through the doorway.

“You’re dead,” Cyrus whispered, stepping back and bumping into one of the chairs. It was the one with the crack down the back that made it uncomfortable to sit in.

“Thanks to you,” Merrik sneered, moving to the trunk of clothes and bending down to dig through them.

“You didn’t say anything,” Cyrus rasped. “You didn’t tell me what you were doing.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I’m dead while you live,” Merrik replied, straightening with the ratty tunic he always insisted on wearing. Cyrus hated that thing.

Merrik moved back to the doorway, pulling the wooden door open. “Then again, looks like I got the better deal in the end anyway. I get to rest in the After, while you?” He huffed a laugh. “You got what you deserved. You get to be alone.”

The door banged shut, and Cyrus found himself standing in the empty loft again. Exactly as Merrik had said. Alone.

Exactly as he deserved to be.