CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ROZLYN
Light sprinkles fell from the sky, and Haven cursed at them. As though the marquis’ sorcery had won in his favor against the gods, the rain ceased. It wouldn’t have mattered much if the rain had poured down harder, at least for Rozlyn since she was soaked to the bone after being dragged out of the boat and below the lake’s surface by a spirit. She could still feel the rail-thin fingers clamped around her shoulders, could still see the other unblinking bodies below the surface, reaching to take her for their own. To where? It could’ve only been to her death. And would they have trapped her soul down there too? She shuddered at the thought.
It had only taken Haven’s shadows brief moments to free her from the spirit’s clutches, and as soon as those comforting inky hands had grasped her, she’d felt safe. Her and Haven’s cuffs were still linked with one another, but they had faded a little, which meant, eventually, they would both be free.
Rozlyn’s dress clung to her skin, the weight of it nagging at her, and the fabric itchy. Haven’s shadows continued to row the boat farther south, but with no land yet in sight, she couldn’t keep this dress on for the unknown length of time. She unfastened the buttons at the front of her dress and wiggled the wet fabric from her body.
“There!” She sighed in satisfaction and wrung the water from the garment before sprawling it out near her feet.
“What are you doing?” Haven hissed, snatching the fabric from the boat floor. “Put this back on. Everyone will see you.”
Rozlyn took the fabric from him and rested it back where it was. “I can’t very well catch a cold now, can I? And who is going to see me anyway? The dead? Besides, I don’t care who looks. We all are born bare, are we not?”
Haven’s lips tightened into the thinnest of lines. He then closed his eyes, chanting low words as his thumb ring changed from black to a glowing red. When he opened his lids, he knelt before the fabric and separated the dress into two. They matched in every way except one was wet and the other wasn’t.
“The fabric wouldn’t have dried any time soon. You can wear this one instead.” He held the garment out to her, and she clasped it with a smile.
She brought the fabric to her nose and inhaled. “It smells clean too.”
“You can thank my sorcery.” He shrugged.
“Isn’t that handy.” Before she put the new dress on, she unbound her tangled hair, and squeezed the water from it. Rozlyn twisted it, then pinned her hair back around her head and slipped on the dress. “Thank you. You’re kind when you choose to be.” She grinned.
Haven frowned.
“It doesn’t hurt to say you’re welcome, does it? We’re friends after all.” Rozlyn winked and lifted her satchel beside her. She dug through its contents until she found a square piece of cloth, royal purple in color, and a needle and thread. Unraveling the thread, she snipped a good length off, then slipped it through the needle. As she pierced the fabric, she felt Haven’s eyes on her. “Yes?”
Haven didn’t utter a word as he watched her stitch a heart-shaped petal of what would eventually be a flower, when he finally asked, “What do you do with those squares? Is there even a purpose to them?”
“I usually make a quilt when I have enough of them.” She smiled, recalling the one she’d last made for Cordelia. Her friend had lit up like starlight when she’d received the blue and white quilt decorated in her favorite desserts. When Haven didn’t respond, she drawled, “Would you like me to make you a quilt? I can fashion it in all black squares if you wish.”
He studied her for a long moment, then grunted, “I can make my own blankets.”
She nudged her shoulder into his. “Is it with the same care?”
“A blanket is a blanket.”
“You wound me so.” Rozlyn laughed. “But you don’t have to ask, I’ll make you a black one when we return to the tower.”
His silence meant that he most certainly would want one. It was obvious the Marquis of Shadows didn’t like asking for things and found it difficult to accept gifts. Rozlyn would size his bed and make the quilt out of different black materials and textures. Perhaps stitch in parts to make it look as though shadows were in some of the squares. He would then see that a blanket was most certainly not just a blanket.
After his shadows had rescued her from the spirits in the lake, Haven had mentioned he’d only saved her because his life was dependent on hers. Even if it were true, if a spirit had taken him, regardless of the curse or coin, she would’ve found a way to save him. Death was nothing to him, and that wasn’t something for her to judge. Only for the gods.
As Rozlyn wove the needle in and out of the fabric, Haven remained close beside her, his arm so very near to brushing hers. Her heart fluttered as he bumped into her when he hunched forward—she needed to remind herself that she couldn’t develop further feelings for him. He was her patron, had her under a curse, and was in love with another. But she couldn’t stop from thinking how his arm had still been around her that morning when she’d fallen asleep against his firm chest.
The quiet between them was comforting, and she wondered what he was thinking as he continued to study the floor of the boat. She tugged on the back of his hair. “You can look at the sky, you know? Take in your surroundings. No need to stay trapped in gloom all the time.”
“I like gloom,” he muttered. Yet he still listened to her advice and peered up at the clearing sky where at least two clouds made an appearance.
As she started to stitch her fourth flower, landscape finally approached, not a single dead tree in sight, only rows of boulders. The shadows rowed faster, cutting diligently through the water, until they reached the dock. Haven grasped Rozlyn by the waist and set her on the decaying wood before he hopped up behind her.
“Are you not going to tie off the boat?” she asked when he started walking down the dock.
“Fuck the boat,” Haven said over his shoulder. “I won’t need it to travel back.”
“The other sorcerer was nice enough to let us use it. It’s the least we can do,” Rozlyn pointed out and knelt to tie the rope around the pole.
Haven’s shadow slid over her, and when she looked up at him, he arched a brow, impatience rolling off of him. So she went slower as she knotted the rope to toy with him.
“You’re doing that on purpose.”
“ Maybe … There!” She stood with a smile and wiped her palms against the skirt of her dress.
The dock led to an abundance of cracked dirt when they reached the end. Lines like veins spread throughout the entire area. The boulders were mostly broken or appeared as if they would collapse into fragments at any moment.
Once they skirted past the boulders, they trekked down a hill to a massive black swamp where shadows sifted through the air, weaving with one another. Not one belonged to Haven.
“What are they?” Rozlyn whispered, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to themselves even though they could clearly be seen if the silhouettes had eyes.
“Shadows of the dead,” Haven said. “While spirits can move on to the gods, the shadows dwell here. Yours and mine will both reside here one day as well. I shouldn’t have to say this, but don’t get near them. They are bitter creatures without their human bodies and with their spirits gone.” He waved her away from the swamp. “Now, come on. We’re traveling through the caverns for another day—at least then the castle is only a short distance from there.”
Soon Haven would reunite with Vivienne…
Rozlyn nodded and stayed beside him as they ventured down another hill where a wide stone mouth of a cavern awaited them. She’d never once been inside a cavern or a cave before, so this was a thrilling new adventure for her.
As they drew closer to the cavern, the mouth held sharp stones, and while crossing, she wouldn’t have been surprised if it closed. But it didn’t.
A pleasant spicy aroma surrounded her, and they descended a set of curving stone stairs, the light behind them growing less and less until pitch-black was all she could see. But then a violet flame came to life in the center of Haven’s palm. He tossed it up and the flame turned into an orb that hovered above them as they walked.
Stalactites hung all around them like icicles. In between them, a knobby texture that looked like pearls glistened beneath the glowing light. A trickle of water softly dripped into a small puddle that had collected beneath it. The path led them deeper into the earth, the stone walls holding shapes that mirrored bones.
Rozlyn trailed a finger across one resembling the lower half of a skull when movement caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. She snapped her gaze to the wall beside her, yet nothing was there except stone.
Clutching her dagger, Rozlyn found Haven further ahead, continuing at a brisk pace. As she grasped her skirts with her free hand to scurry after him, movement came once more. This time, a shadow slinked in front of her, and she thought it was Haven’s, but when its freezing hand wrapped around her mouth, it was nothing like the marquis’. She tried to scream when the hand stuck to her mouth like a strip of cloth, but her voice was completely muted. When she stepped forward to run after Haven, two more wispy hands circled her ankles and yanked her not against the stone ground yet through it.
Rozlyn didn’t fall to the next level but was carried by the shadows as though she were floating on air. They brought her to the stone ground, her words still silenced as she shouted. She tugged on the shadow strip binding her mouth, but it wouldn’t budge. Where was she?
As she frantically spun around the room, searching for an escape, she noticed each wall held a massive hearth where blue fire crackled. A long stone dining table with eight chairs was the only other thing in the room.
No doors. Not a nook or cranny that she could wiggle through.
She peered up at the ceiling, and a mirror, instead of stone, reflected her image at her, then rippled like liquid. Atop her head rested a crown made entirely of shadows.
Rozlyn’s heart thundered as four shadows danced in a circle around her, performing one perfect pirouette after another. If this had been outside a trapped room, any other time she might’ve clasped her hands and enjoyed the performance with a joyful smile. But not now.
Haven ! she screamed inside her head as she darted through a gap amid the dancers and dug her foot into the wall. Before she could leap upward, she slipped to the ground. It was her one escape, and one she would never reach since the walls were smooth like glass.
One of the shadows pirouetted its way toward her, halting, raising its lithe finger. Rozlyn sliced through it with her blade.
Nothing .
She was helpless, useless—something she’d never truly felt, even when trapped in Haven’s tower. But she’d never been afraid of the marquis.
The shadow lifted its elegant hand higher and pointed toward the table. Rozlyn followed its finger, and this time, the table wasn’t empty. A banquet of shadowed food and goblets sprawled across the stone.
Rozlyn batted a hand in the air politely. If she was to be useless in this situation, then she needed to be gracious until she could find a way to escape.
When the shadow gestured again toward the table, another presence stood beside a chair. A tall and broad-shouldered shadow that wore a crown matching Rozlyn’s.
She stepped back, which only ignited a possible emotion in the shadow, and it prowled toward her. The shadow reached for her, and she dodged away from it, but when she spun to face the silhouette, it had vanished.
Something isn’t right here . Her breath grew ragged, her heart elevated, as she searched the room, the dancing shadows now still as statues. Two arms clamped around her waist, and Rozlyn kicked and wriggled when the crowned shadow dragged her to one of the stone chairs. The four dancers resumed their movements, pirouetting toward her while the crowned shadow held Rozlyn in place.
The shadow’s hands lifted from Rozlyn, and the gag on her mouth fell away. As she jerked forward, it wasn’t her who had done the motion but her shadow, peeling itself from her body. She remained frozen, unable to rise from the chair. Her vision blurred, and the last thing she could see was the crowned silhouette draping its arm around her shadow’s curvy waist.