CHAPTER NINETEEN
ROZLYN
Rozlyn kept a steady grip on Haven’s hand as they traveled the winding caverns. This time they came to a stop in front of three pathways, and he released his shadows while she glanced down at her cuff, noticing that it had grown more transparent, its surface softer. Soon, the curse would wholly fade.
It was a relief that she wouldn’t be cursed to stone if something happened to Haven. And, while, yes, some, including Madam, would’ve said to take the dagger to the deceiver’s heart for lying, she wouldn’t. At least, not to him. The Marquis of Shadows didn’t have to reveal the truth, but he had.
The shadows drew back and motioned toward the left chamber, so Haven led Rozlyn down the path. If it hadn’t been for the bonding cuff, she wasn’t certain if Haven would’ve found her in the shadows’ secret lair. If she’d remained in a frozen state, her heart could’ve halted and her silhouette might’ve become a prisoner forever. But she also believed that her shadow would’ve eventually broken free of her enchantment, killed them all, then slipped back inside Rozlyn’s body.
Rozlyn thought again about Madam and wondered how much the caring woman missed her. Which courtesan had Oscar ended up choosing for his journey, and had they already returned? Had Lucius gone to Cordelia since Rozlyn hadn’t been there? Who was mending the other courtesans’ dresses in her stead? She hadn’t imagined she would be gone so long and doubted anyone else did either.
Chewing her lip, she couldn’t fight the urge to peer at her cuff once more. How long after they visited the castle would the marble vanish from her and Haven’s wrists? And if Vivienne did sense she’d made a grave mistake by choosing the lord over Haven, then reunited with the Marquis of Shadows, how would that make Rozlyn feel? Especially if the cuff remained for a while longer, and she had to linger at the tower, snipping off locks of hair and giving them to Haven after him and his perfect match had just pleasured one another the night before. Would her heart continue to flutter when she looked into his pale eyes, or would she be resigned and happy for her friend?
Taking a deep swallow, Rozlyn cleared her thoughts. I would continue as I always have, distracting myself with fabrics, until it was time to leave the tower. I would then hold onto the good moments with the marquis and focus on making others and myself happy through dresses at the new shop that I’ll finally purchase. But—
Stone rubbing against stone echoed through the cavern, cutting her thoughts. Haven drew Rozlyn close to his side, and she craned her neck, peering around through the violet light of his orb. No shadows other than Haven’s slinked about.
“Something isn’t right here,” he said, his voice holding an edge.
The grating sound erupted again, and large fragments of stone rained from the ceiling. Haven and Rozlyn dodged a sharp piece that could’ve easily sliced them into two. As they darted out of the way of a massive, rounded rock, the stone beneath Rozlyn and Haven’s feet vanished, and she caught the edge of the ground with her free hand, his grip still in hers, preventing their fall. He didn’t feel as weighted as he should’ve, and she noticed he’d already released his wings, lightly swishing them in the small space. If he’d tumbled down, he would’ve landed on shards of glass that covered the dirt below like spears.
“Stay as close to the stone as you can,” he shouted.
Rozlyn used both hands to grasp the edge, the muscles of her arms growing weaker with each moment that ticked by.
Haven opened his wings as far as he could in the space, but it was enough to jolt him upward, squeezing past Rozlyn without one of the appendages slicing her. If his wing got caught, and he plummeted to the ground, he would’ve been no more.
Grasping her by the arms, Haven pulled Rozlyn out as her fingers slipped further. His arms held her against him while stepping backward just when the ground gave way, the stones crashing against the glass spears, the sound reverberating throughout the caverns.
A spear to the stomach was not the way Rozlyn wanted her day to end. She sighed in relief and peered up at Haven. “Just a little pitfall on our journey is all.”
“Something’s fucked here,” he said, his scowl deepening. His fingers trailed a wall, his ring turning seafoam green. “There’s old sorcery…. Very old. Keep your eyes open. The caverns should’ve been easier to go through than the shadowland.”
“As my friend Cordelia would say, this is sheer folly, but I have faith in your sorcery.”
“I said it’s old, not that it’s better than mine,” he drawled. “This has nothing on my ability.”
“I believe you.” Rozlyn nodded.
They continued through the tunnels, weaving around stone wall after stone wall, all the while she kept her eyes peeled for any magical trickery. Mostly the ground, since spells had affected stone beneath her feet on two occasions now.
After a long while of walking, thighs aching, Rozlyn tugged Haven’s arm to stop for a moment. Her thirst remained sated, but she needed to catch her breath. Haven looked as though he wanted to argue, yet he stood beside her and took out his flask and drank from it as her chest heaved.
She kept her gaze trained on the ground when a sharp pain clamped down on her right shoulder. “Ow,” she yelped, clasping the spot and whirling on Haven. “Did you just bite me with your shadows again?”
Haven yanked Rozlyn to his chest and moved them away from the wall. “My shadow didn’t bite you last night. It was just a small nip.”
“Well, something just bit me,” she said as she surveyed the wall behind her but found nothing except a few hairline cracks running up the stone’s length.
“Stay away from the wall while I do this.” Haven held up his hand, chanting words she couldn’t decipher, his shadows seeping out of him, rising and curving so it looked as if they were the top portion of a throne.
And then, inside the stone, an oval shape appeared. But not just any shape, a face that protruded from the wall. One without eyes. Only a nose and sharp teeth that snapped at Haven.
“Fuck you,” Haven growled and rotated his hand before slashing across the air. A crack ran across the wall, the sound as silent as the face had been when it extended its head out of the stone to bite Rozlyn. The face’s mouth opened in terror, a scream that didn’t make any ruckus, and then the ghastly thing was gone.
Rozlyn patted the marquis’ shoulder. “Well done.”
He arched a brow at her, and when his gaze trained on her lips, she could’ve sworn his pupils were dilated. Yet then he grasped her hand and tugged her along with him. She walked carefully beside him, watching their steps, feeling for any loose stones beneath her feet as she studied the walls for any sign of something out of the ordinary. However, the stalagmites in the open cavern they entered looked as if all of them could hold sorcery, but Haven shook his head. As he was about to step into a hole that resembled stone, she drew him aside.
Yet, thankfully, no sorcery there either.
Up ahead, at the end of the large cavern room, a fork caught her attention. Rozlyn ticked her finger back and forth between them, debating which path Haven’s shadows would say was the right one to follow.
“I’ll guess right,” she cooed.
Haven closed his eyes, his inky darkness weaving down both tunnels. “Left,” Haven said, tucking her close to his side as they entered the narrow passageway, making her lungs tight when she breathed.
They turned left and hit a dead end—a pockmarked wall stood from floor to ceiling before them.
“Should we have gone through the other passageway?” Rozlyn asked. His shadows hadn’t been wrong before, but there was always a chance one could’ve made a mistake.
Furrowing his brow, he pressed his palm against the stone. “No, it continues through this wall.”
A wall shot up from the ground mere inches from brushing the backs of Rozlyn’s boots. She squeaked and bumped into Haven as she jolted forward. Spinning around, she studied the new wall that left them no space to go backward. All four walls closed them inside the space that was only a little larger than the closet they’d slept in the prior night.
A pit formed in Rozlyn’s stomach while Haven pushed against the wall that would lead to the continued pathway, then slapped it. “Trickery and sorcery. Pathetic. ”
Rozlyn tsked. “Perhaps it was one of the lords who did this to prevent anyone from sneaking to the castle.”
“If it was Adham, he paid someone. His spells are average at best. And—”
The walls vibrated, and the ground shook, interrupting Haven. The tiniest of holes appeared in the walls—Rozlyn yanked him back toward the center of the space, wrapping her arms around him just as the holes became larger and spikes pierced through the walls, circling them in every direction. The only safe spot was the stone below their feet.
“Give me a moment,” Haven said, his nostrils flaring. Rozlyn’s arms dropped from around him, and the walls quaked again. The spikes lining the wall extended even further to where they were a finger-size away from sliding into them. How much longer did Haven have to get rid of them?
He squared his shoulders, the muscles in his chest taut, the veins in his neck bulging. Holding both hands up, he turned his arms until his palms faced the ceiling. A violet light poured out from him, cloaking the spikes. The color became translucent, then changed the spikes to a grayish hue. Cracks broke out across them, their metal surfaces morphing into grains before falling to dust on the ground.
Haven raised one of his hands higher, and his other fell to his side. The walls shook, stone rubbing stone stirring, and Rozlyn thought a new set of spikes were returning when his sorcery and shadows lifted the wall into the ceiling.
Rozlyn blinked, her eyes widening at what rested before them. Skeleton after skeleton lay sprawled across the ground. Not a bone missing, but pristine and perhaps a little bit dusty. And another wall blocking their way…
“I suppose this room is worse than the nails if at least ten people died here,” she said, her heart pounding against her ribcage.
“They didn’t die here,” Haven clarified. “They were brought here.” As the words left his lips, creaking echoed from the remains, the skeletons rising from the floor. “Keep them away while I work,” he instructed.
Even in this predicament, she smiled that he requested her help. Her dagger would do no good against bones, but she would still fight. She stepped in front of Haven when he chanted, his words melancholic and lyrical this time.
As one of the skeletons scuttled toward them, Rozlyn lunged at it and kicked the frail thing in the chest, its bones clacking to the floor. They weren’t very strong at all. She slammed her foot into another, and another, and another, but the skeletons didn’t stay down—they continued to rise. While keeping this up, she knew the only way she and the marquis would fail was if Haven’s spell didn’t work and she grew too exhausted to fight any longer. But then the skeletons turned from alabaster to gray, and their bones scattered across the ground, bursting into ash as the spikes had.
“You did well,” Haven grunted.
Rozlyn grinned, her chest heaving. “A task well done. You wouldn’t happen to have a spell to stay awake, would you?” she asked while stepping through the ash.
“That spell would kill you once it wears off. First, your body would swell painfully, then your bones would rip through your flesh as your organs shrivel until your breath ceases.”
She blinked rapidly. “That sounds quite lovely .”