Page 52

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

X enia’s heart thundered in her chest as she stood outside Elodie’s room clutching the small tin key.

Cael had already informed Xenia that Elodie would be down in Diachre all day for her final dress fitting. And Xenia had seen Elodie leaving the lodge this morning after she’d laid into Mistress Ostere in the foyer, yelling about the thieving household staff and a missing key that had magically turned up at dinner two nights ago. Demanding that no one go into her room until after the wedding.

Xenia had watched from around the corner, smirking. Mistress Ostere assured Elodie that the staff would never dare steal any of her belongings. That perhaps Elodie herself had left the key in her dinner dress and not realized it? And was she sure she didn’t want her room cleaned?

From the clipped tone, Xenia knew Mistress Ostere was hinting at Elodie’s perpetual messiness.

Elodie had been about to strike the woman before Erik strode in. He’d warned that Elodie would miss her appointment if she didn’t leave soon, then swept her through the front door. Xenia could’ve sworn he’d winked at Mistress Ostere over his shoulder on the way out. The head of the household staff, believing herself alone, had shuffled up the stairs muttering Slovenly, cold-hearted bitch .

Xenia had to clap a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. She’d untucked herself from her hiding place and slipped up to Elodie’s room, excitement and fear warring in her chest.

Excitement, because she was about to find out what was in that box. And fear, because she was about to find out what was in that box.

She opened the door to find the room just as filthy as the first time she’d been here. Maybe more so.

Dresses and slippers and undergarments were strewn across every surface, as if the closet had spit out its contents. The bedsheets were crumpled, the pillows scattered, and every single drawer hung open and askew.

Xenia snickered, imagining an Elodie whirlwind tearing through this room two days ago, searching for the key her very own fiancé had stolen.

Worry cinched Xenia’s gut as she padded to the closet. What if the box wasn’t there? What if Elodie had gotten spooked and hidden it somewhere else?

She knelt down, loosing a relieved sigh when she found the box tucked into the back corner. She pulled it into her lap, then fitted the key into the lock.

The latch gave with a satisfying click, and the lid popped open.

Confusion wrinkled Xenia’s brow.

The box was filled with small vials, maybe twenty in total. Two-thirds were empty while the rest were filled with clear liquid.

Xenia placed the box on the floor, then plucked up a full vial. The liquid was crystal clear, no flakes or particles suspended within. It looked like water. But when she angled the vial, it coated the sides of the glass. Water wasn’t that viscous.

She pulled off the cork and sniffed. It was nearly odorless with a hint of bitter green at the finish.

She knew better than to taste it. The High Gods only knew what kinds of potions the Fae brewed with the enchanted flora here on the continent. For all Xenia knew, she might knock back this vial and turn into a frog.

All the adrenaline she’d felt since she’d walked into the room fled her body in a tingling rush. So disappointing. She was hoping to find something scandalous. Something unspeakable. Evidence that Elodie had a secret lover or a hidden child or was already married. Not these tiny vials of mystery liquid.

Did she dare take one? If she did, surely Elodie would notice it missing. And Xenia didn’t want to be responsible for the wrath Elodie would unleash upon the innocent staff if she did.

Perhaps she could take an empty one. There were enough in the box. Surely, Elodie wouldn’t be keeping a close count on those? She wasn’t nearly that organized.

Xenia picked up an empty vial, removed the cork, and sniffed. That same leafy bitterness lingered within. Maybe Cael would know what it was? The scent seemed distantly familiar, but Xenia couldn’t place it.

She slid the empty vial into her pocket, then relocked the wooden box and slipped it back into its hiding place.

As she stood, her gaze snagged on the gilded clock on the wall.

Shit. Her shift in the library had started eight minutes ago.

She rushed out of Elodie’s room, then down the stairs, through the foyer, and out into the crisp brightness of an uncharacteristically sunny day in Diachre.

She bit her lip, lost in speculation as she hurried down the path to the library.

What in Ethyrios was in those vials?

Was Elodie sick? Were they some kind of healing treatment?

High Gods, were they poison ? Was she planning to off Cael on their wedding night? Though that didn’t seem likely, since so many vials were already empty.

She slammed into a hard, male chest.

Cael caught her shoulders before she could fall back on her ass. He was wearing the biggest, most joyful smile she’d ever seen grace his gorgeous mouth. Rays of sunshine backlit his wing, illuminating the pink within the gray. He reached into his pocket and pull out a small, dark container.

“What’s that?” she asked.

She didn’t know how it was possible, but Cael’s smile widened.

“Our ticket out of here.”

“It’s going to hurt,” Xenia said, more a statement than a question, as she paced in Cael’s bedroom, wringing her hands in her apron.

Cael’s concerned eyes tracked her. “Yes.”

“A lot. ”

The small graphite crucible perched menacingly on the low table before the fireplace.

“Yes.” Cael stepped in to grip her shoulders. “But you will heal. As soon as it’s out, I’ll give you my blood and you will heal. I promise.”

She pressed her cheek against the top of his hand, spearing him with a fearful, hopeful gaze as she sucked in a shaky breath.

“Okay?” he said, his face soft.

“Okay.” She steeled her spine, glancing toward Cael’s packed bag on the bed.

As soon as he’d stolen her from outside the library, he’d whisked her to his room. Inside, he’d been a flurry of activity. Packing, cleaning, talking. More words than she’d ever heard leave his mouth at once.

She suspected he was trying to keep her distracted from what he was about to do—burn the tracking device out of her neck using dragon-fire.

He’d explained the process while slinging clothes and weapons—two Typhon steel daggers and a stun pistol—into the bag along with a pouch of drachas . Not much, he’d explained, but enough for them to get by while they awaited a message from Tristan. Who Cael had informed her was heading to Tartarus, High Gods fucking spare him, to seek the name from Aedelmar Burkhardt. And to find Cass, no doubt.

Cael hadn’t told her where they would be waiting, but she honestly didn’t care. They could be staying in a lean-to in the woods, and it still wouldn’t dampen her effervescent excitement.

They would be away from Stoneridge. Away from Elodie and Tomas. Away from Arran.

Away together.

She’d shown him the vial she’d found in Elodie’s room, and he’d distractedly slipped it into his bag, muttering something about looking at it later. It didn’t even matter anymore, but Xenia’s hamster wheel mind insisted she solve the mystery eventually.

“You should probably sit.” Cael guided her to the armchair, then gathered up her curls and began re-pinning them atop her head. “Wouldn’t want to burn all your hair off, Blondie.”

She shot him an annoyed look.

“Come on. You’d look so fucking hot bald.” He kissed the back of her neck, and she let out a ragged chuckle.

He came around the chair, then knelt at her feet, plucking the crucible from the table.

“We’ll do it as quickly as possible,” he said, as if he could hear her heart slamming against her ribs. “Scream if you need to. I’ve put a windshield around the room.” He bit into his wrist, breaking the skin, then lifted it to her face. Tiny rivulets of blood trickled down the corded muscles of his forearm. “Grab hold. As soon as the fire touches your skin, I want you to suck and suck hard . Don’t worry about me. Take as much as you need until the pain subsides.”

She was beyond words, her emotions a confusing mix of terror and exhilaration. This was really happening. She and Cael were about to be free. She tried to focus on that rather than the impending pain.

She positioned his wrist at her mouth and licked up a drop of his blood. The taste—pure Cael, all rain-drenched mountains and greenery—calmed her.

“Ready?” Cael’s thumb was poised on the lid of the crucible by her neck. Heat wafted through the thick material.

She sucked in a deep breath. “Do it.”

Cael didn’t hesitate. Flicked the lid off and pressed the opening against her scar.

The pain was unlike anything Xenia had ever felt. Like an angry god had driven a hot spike through her neck.

She dug her nails into Cael’s forearm, holding on for dear life as a gut-wrenching scream tore past her teeth. Cael held her in place, his thighs bracketing her knees as she thrashed. Her instincts were roaring at her to flee, to buck him off, to make it stop.

Her skin was melting . She could smell it—a charred-flesh scent that was almost worse than the pain itself.

This was no ordinary fire. It was so white-hot it was cold. She shivered as a feverish sweat burst across her body, beads running into her eyes.

“Hurts.” Her words were garbled screams. “Fucking hurts !”

Cael whispered something soothing, but she couldn’t hear him over the blood pounding through her ears. He pressed his wrist to her mouth again, encouraging her to drink. She could barely concentrate enough to seal her mouth over the cut.

Small zaps prickled her neck—the device sputtering out its final gasps.

She pushed through, sucking down a mouthful of Cael’s blood. No instant relief, but the pain’s sharper edges dulled.

“Almost there,” Cael whispered. “Just a few more seconds.”

A pop sounded and she was certain her jugular had ruptured. She nearly passed out from a fresh wave of agony.

“Got it!” Cael’s victorious shout cut through her haze, and she heard a soft ping. “Keep drinking.”

She did as he commanded, though it was hard to swallow. She pushed his wrist away, then cracked her eyes open. Cael picked up the tracking device from the table, hissing as it burned his fingers. He dropped it at his feet, then stomped on it once, twice, three times for good measure.

He stared down at the charred remains, chest heaving, then looked to Xenia. Wonder flared through his storm-cloud eyes as he crashed to his knees and peered at her wound. “You may be the first human in the history of Ethyrios to survive being burned by dragon-fire.”

She huffed out a weak laugh. “How does it look?”

He grimaced. “Bad.”

“Great bedside manner, pterodactyl.”

He gripped her hand and interlaced their fingers. “But it could be worse. You’re alive . You did it.” He peppered gentle kisses across her knuckles. “You’re so fucking strong.”

He strode to the bed, then fastened the cuff to his wrist and slung his bag over his shoulder.

He gingerly scooped her from the chair. She whimpered as a fresh bolt of pain shot through her neck. “It’s okay,” he whispered into her hair, cradling her against his chest. “You’ll be okay.”

And despite the hurt, despite the exhaustion, despite everything , she believed him.

They would be okay. Both of them.

It was the last thought in her head before Cael tapped the cuff and they portaled out of Stoneridge.

Together.