Page 48 of Summer’s Seduction (Sinful Seasons #2)

LARKSPUR

I raced after Morpheus, contemplating throwing a dagger his way just to pay him back for that goodbye. We weren’t dying here, and I wasn’t going to let him sacrifice himself. There was a time when I would’ve given anything to save my sister—and I still would—but that didn’t mean I was in this alone.

Morpheus and I had been through too much. His blood was coursing through my veins and mine through his. I felt him in my bones. I knew how strong and selfless he was, but also how brutal and merciless he was on a battlefield. With our memories returning and the bond we’d crafted through blood and trust, I saw every facet of my dark prince. And loved him all the more for it.

Blinking through the darkness, I relied on my hearing to search, only to find Morpheus moving slowly a few paces ahead.

What looked to be a grand hallway stretched out before us. Walls reached high into the blackness, adorned with arched windows inlaid with what was once colorful mosaics. Dim lanterns hung throughout the space, each constructed with small pieces of glass. That reflected what little moonlight emanated from the open doors at our backs.

A throne sat at the far end, the red cushion still placed upon the seat. I could just make out the two sets of halls on either side of it, each giving way to stairs. That must be how we reached the tower.

“We take the stairs on the left,” Morpheus said, scanning the vacant room with his sword held at the ready.

I followed his gaze, body tense, but found nothing. “Do you see something?” I whispered.

He shook his head once. “But I can feel him slithering beneath us.”

My stomach twisted as we picked up the pace. “Who’s he?”

Morpheus only shook his head and started up the opaque staircase. We bound down chilled corridors and pitch black rooms, relying on our hearing to measure the reverberation of our echoing footsteps against the walls.

All the while, a looming presence drew near. The floor seemed to groan, and the walls wail as we transversed the landing of the last staircase. Distant moonlight refracted along the ceilings and walls, the thick slabs of glass thinner here than in the lower levels.

“Finally,” I breathed, feeling familiarity bloom in Morpheus’s chest. We were nearly there. With my eyes set on the solo set of stairs leading up to an illuminated door at the end of this hall, I started forward.Only to discover that where the ground should have been, there was only open air.

A high-pitched shriek left my lips as I fell. An answering roar hissed from far below, chilling the blood rushing through my veins as it reverberated through the blackness.

I couldn’t have been falling for more than a second because Morpheus was there before I could scream for help. He caught me with one arm, the other still clutching his sword, as his great wings beat. We reversed directions cresting up until we were gliding across the upper floor.

From this vantage point, I could see the large pit I’d fallen through. It was wide enough to fit three horses, and the edges were smooth, looking as if something had melted right through the glass floors.

“Gods,” I breathed, swallowing down my panic.

“Not quite,” Morpheus said, wings snapping in close as we swooped onto the steps just before the door.

I reached for my sword, feeling safer with it in my grasp, only to find that I must have dropped it. With a curse, I withdrew a curved dagger from my boot and readied myself.

Morpheus glanced behind us as hissing started anew, this time much closer than it had been before. He raised his palm just as I caught the flicker of movement from the other side. It was nothing more than a shadow, but my chest heaved with the possibility that it might be Psyche.

A warmth spread through my body momentarily, a soft peace flooding my system for a brief second and then it was gone.

It was Psyche.

“Using my magic will draw him closer,” Morpheus said, his words taking on a frantic tone. “As soon as the door is unsealed, get to Psyche.”

I gave a quick nod, my pulse hammering in my chest as Morpheus called on his magic. The pressure in the air shifted, as it had done upon entering The Glass Palace, but this time it felt different. There was another magic swirling just beyond his, coaxing Morpheus onward as the pressure built. And then released.

The door clicked open, the full light of the moon overhead illuminating the pristine space. Where the rest of the palace had been dark and desolate, this room was filled with thriving plants. There were small trees ripe with fruit and vines climbing along wooden arches with pops of color among them. There was a basin of murky liquid that looked to be pressed and filtered into clear water through a makeshift distillation system and there in the center of the room donning a thin white gown was Psyche.

Her white curls had grown past her waist. She’d been thin and lanky as a girl, but she was nearly twenty now, and the past seven years had transformed her into a woman.

My sister turned, her icy blue gaze looking almost violet in the moonlight, and smiled.

“There you are, Larkspur. Right on time.”