12. Kiera
Chapter 12
Kiera
L ong after everyone has retired to their new accommodations for the night and the sun has set, I remain awake, staring out of the window in my bedchamber. It was a fortunate discovery to find that it doesn't face the ocean as I'd anticipated. Instead, the narrow sliver of glass peers into a darkened garden below with pathways for people to travel between buildings. The Darkhavens and I had spent the better part of the afternoon attempting to map the winding corridors and strange openings of the Academy to no avail.
Unlike Riviere, there seems to be no rhyme or reason to this place. We'd found long hallways that led nowhere but dead ends, towers with no doors leading in or out, and gardens full of half-dead hedges. The further one travels down the hallways in search of an end, the farther any destination actually seems to get.
The most disturbing of all the discoveries, however, was the garden of statues. When one thinks of a 'garden' they imagine plants and life, but the garden of statues resembles nothing of the kind. Surrounded by archways and pillars of chipped and decaying stone, it was full of grotesque monsters from all manner of fairytales. Giant bat-like creatures with talons and large, arching wings. Various men and women in all stages of fear and decomposition. From a woman dressed in finery, her beautiful young face that of a serene maiden on one side and nothing but a skeleton on the other, to a man curled into himself upon the ground, bones and weapons jutting from every part of him until you could hardly tell that it was a man beneath it all.
I bend my head towards the window and let the cool glass touch my cheek. Lifting my gaze from the garden below, I contemplate the sky above, wondering if Regis and Ophelia have found Carcel by now or if he's found them and killed them. My heart beats a rapid drum in my chest.
"Don't," I warn myself, closing my eyes against those dark thoughts. Perhaps it's the air of Ortus Academy, but there's something so ... disheartening here. As if all of the cruel, wicked nightmares one has ever thought are possible here. There are no dreams, only horrors.
A tapping noise drags my attention from the window and the shadows below. Ara is perched at the end of the perfectly made bed that I'd slept in the night before. Knowing that a Terra had stopped by to clean up my things and remake the bed has me on edge. Other than Nubo and Zalika and the few Terra that serve the Mortal Gods, I haven't seen enough Terra in Ortus that were not brought here by their Masters in the other Academies to warrant extras to 'clean' the bedrooms. Then again, 'clean' is a bit of a stretch considering that the cobwebs and dust still coat the floor and ledges and it's truly only the newly made bed that reveals the fact that someone was here.
I leave the window and stride across the room to my Spider Queen. As I draw closer, she circles herself on the flat blankets and taps her feet insistently against them. With a frown, I lean over and offer up my hand. She practically leaps onto my palm the second it's within striking distance and as soon as her furry little body touches me, a kaleidoscope of emotions and images assail me.
"Ugh." Pressing my free hand to my aching temple, I slump onto the bed. "Slow down, Ara. I can't..." My words drift off as the images she's sending me become clearer. Chunky stone walls arching into a long, dark, and narrow tunnel. Broken webs drooping from the corners of ceilings with so much grime and dirt on them that their original color has become a mixture of grave brown and algae green.
"You found it?" I blink as more of her thoughts drift into my mind, curves and passageways. A door hidden in the shadows, larger than life to this small creature, but to me—it's simply a door, and where there is a door, there is something to hide behind it.
Standing abruptly, I turn and deposit my familiar back on the bed before patting her head. "Good job. I'll go check it out."
The door to my room creaks open. "Go check what out?" Ruen stands there, arms crossed over his massive chest, and an arched brow as he flicks a look between Ara and then me. "What did your familiar show you?"
I grimace. "It's?—"
"Tell me that it's nothing and I will be forced to tie you down and spank it out of you," he says before I can finish my sentence.
I clench my hands into fists at my sides. "It's none of your business," I snap defensively.
Ruen leaves the doorway and drops his arms as he strides across the room, not stopping until I'm forced to tilt my head back to keep our eyes locked. Though I'm not small by most standards, he still towers over me and it creates a feeling of unease no matter how strong and capable I know myself to be.
"Don't patronize me, Kiera," Ruen murmurs, his voice low, but silken in its dangerous quality. "Everything about you is my business." He reaches up, a single hand hovering near my cheek but not quite touching. It bothers me how much I crave to lean into him. I find myself swaying on my feet, nearly doing so against my better judgment. "What news did your spider bring you?" he demands.
"It's not news," I begin. "It's just..." Unable to hold his gaze any longer, I tear my eyes away and glance back to the bed, but Ara has already disappeared, fleeing to somewhere in the shadows no doubt.
Traitor, I mentally cast out towards her. The responding tapping against the wall behind my bed is the only answer I get.
Ruen's finger touches my jaw, nudging insistently as he brings my face back around so that I'm compelled to meet his eyes once more. "Tell me."
Perhaps it's the quietness of his tone or maybe even the bite of awareness that slithers through me when his flesh is on my own, but those two words are all it takes to break down the last of my resolve. He wants me to tell him, so I do. I tell him about the dreams, about the fears in my chest and the wondering if perhaps, somehow, someway, Caedmon isn't actually dead, but instead here . In Ortus.
When I'm done spilling my guts in a way that no one has ever managed to make me do—not even Ophelia with all of her torture training—Ruen's expression hasn't changed a bit. He remains just as aloof and dispassionate in his expression as he was before. It's only in the small movements he makes, the way his fingertips seem to glide up and down the side of my jawline as if he can't quite pull himself away from me, that tell me he's anything but indifferent.
"Your spider brought you something that tells you that whatever prison you found exists here, didn't she?"
Sometimes, it's both a blessing and a curse to know how intelligent he is. I nod my answer and he hums in the back of his throat before turning to look at the still open doorway. "Kalix and Theos are both still in bed," he murmurs. "I don't want to get their hopes up if we don't find what we're looking for."
"Wait a second, what do you mean 'we?'" I take a step back, unwilling to let myself be swayed by the feeling of his fingers on my skin.
Ruen's midnight eyes flash back to mine. "You're not going alone," he states. "Certainly not in this place. This isn't Riviere, Kiera. It's far more dangerous." He scans the room as if searching for some unseen force. "It feels as if even the walls have eyes and ears here."
Unfortunately, I know exactly what he means. Despite how alone the Gods have left us since bringing us to this place, there can be no doubt that we're being carefully watched. Tryphone isn't the type to simply let a defeat go and the fact that he was unable to enter my mind must have him on edge. It's more surprising that he's yet to drag me into some dark cell and demand answers. It makes me wonder what's holding him back, or who...
"Get ready," Ruen says, dragging my attention back to him. "If we're going to find your prison, then we should go now. It's dark enough and we don't know how long it'll take for us to return, but we should be back by sunrise."
Knowing that it'll take longer to argue against him going with me, I simply give up the fight entirely. If bringing Ruen along will speed things up then so be it. Ruen remains quiet as I hurriedly delve into my pack for a cloak and then tug on my boots and tighten the laces that keep them up my calves. He's already dressed as if he hadn't ever changed to bed down for the night. When I'm done he offers me a hand, leading me from my room to his, where he dons his own cloak and then the two of us are off.
"I have no lantern," I murmur as we head towards the main hall of the Academy. Ruen slides me a look before a burst of firelight flares to life between us. With a jolt, I nearly stumble back, but he catches my arms before I do.
"We have no need of a lantern," he reminds me, nodding towards the firelight.
With a frown, I examine the flame that simply hovers in the air between us with no gas and no container to hold it in place. “It’s interesting,” I murmur absently as I watch the flame sway back and forth.
“What is?”
I continue to stare at the flame, seeing through the edges to the stone behind it. “If Ortus is made entirely of Brimstone, why doesn’t it stop our abilities entirely?”
Ruen moves and the flame follows. When I glance back at him, he, too, is staring at the fire he’s created with a discerning expression. “You can wield a brimstone blade and it doesn’t dampen your abilities,” he reminds me. “The difference between being surrounded by Brimstone and actually controlled by it—wounded by it—is when it cuts through your skin. The shard in your neck wouldn’t have really hurt you if you’d merely worn it rather than having it embedded into your skin.”
“So, it’s like any other knife? Only dangerous in how it’s used?” I’d always wondered why the shard in my neck had hurt me when brimstone daggers hadn’t.
Ruen nods. “Yes.”
I gesture to the light between us. “And this?” I ask. “If you create illusions, why does this actually help us see in the dark?" I stare at the flickering flame, wanting to reach out and touch the dancing fire, wondering if it'll burn me. Curious, I lift my hand only for Ruen to capture my wrist and shake his head marginally.
"Illusions stem from the power of the mind," he says. "If you believe you can see due to a flame, then you can. You'd be surprised what darkness your mind can overcome if you simply believe in something hard enough."
Blinking at such a comment from someone like him, I don't get a chance to ask another question before he's weaving his fingers back through mine and gesturing to the wide hallway. "Let's hurry," he says. "Lead the way."
Recalling the images of passages and the pathway that Ara had shown me, the two of us quietly follow the invisible map in my head away from the residences of the Mortal Gods and back towards where we came in the first day. Just before we reach the entrance of the great hall though, I veer left and find a small alcove with a hidden corridor beyond. Much smaller than the hallways that lead to our bedchambers, it forces Ruen to release my hand and follow behind me as the two of us enter the darkness.
His illusionary flame floods our surroundings with muted light, just enough to keep us moving. Again and again, I contemplate the memories of my Spider Queen, pausing every so often as I realize the angle of the corridor is wrong and then backtracking to a corner that we should have turned before. Despite the multiple blunders I make that eat up time, Ruen never complains. He remains a constant silent companion at my back. At one time not long ago, having someone trail behind me would have made me nervous—the thought of allowing someone that could harm me to watch my back a foreign one. Now, I feel nothing but ... protected. Safe.
The two of us come to a dead end, and I frown, my hands touching along the stone wall. If I stand in front of it with both of my arms outstretched, I can touch either side of the corridor. There's no window, but the flame above our heads flickers as if sensing a new path of air. I glance up and then back at Ruen, but his face remains encased in shadows, revealing nothing of what he must be thinking.
With a silent curse, I grapple with the stones on the wall, looking for a handle or something that will lead us forward. "It has to be here," I mutter. "She went beyond this wall." Unlike my Spider Queen, however, I am not a small creature able to creep between the stones and into rooms beyond.
"Kiera." Ruen's hand touches my shoulder gently.
I yank myself away and grip another stone, tugging until it's obvious that it won't come loose. "No," I snap. "It's here. There has to be a door here. I know I saw?—"
"Kiera, I know you want him to still be alive," Ruen's voice is annoyingly understanding. "I want him to be as much as you."
My hands rove over the wall, but each stone I grip remains buried in the solid mass of the flat surface. Breathing heavily, feeling as if the walls of the corridor are slowly closing in on me, I close my eyes and lean my forehead against the stone. " I can't do this ." The whisper is a croak pulled from the ravages of my throat.
Strong, male arms wrap around my waist and pull me back into a hard muscled chest. Pressing the sides of my cloak into me, Ruen dips his head and presses his forehead to my shoulder. "It's going to be okay," he whispers.
My eyes reopen and stare at the wall in front of me. Caedmon, for all his flaws and frustratingly vague innuendos, was powerful. He was a God that even Tryphone feared. Without him ... we're doomed. I know it. The others know it and, deep down, I think Ruen knows it as well. The book he gave me hasn't brought any answers no matter how many times I've checked it since we arrived, the pages remain frustratingly blank. Perhaps, I think, the power of knowing the future died with Caedmon and the book no longer works if he's not here.
The flame above our heads flickers once more, stronger this time. I glance up at it. "Your illusion seems to think there's a door here," I say absently.
Ruen lifts his head and follows my line of sight. In the muted firelight that reveals only half of his features, I realize he's frowning at the thing as if confused.
"What is it?" I turn in his arms, planting both hands on his chest and pushing him back slightly so that I can see the whole of his face. His eyes are locked on the flame above our heads. The fire dances and sways and then tugs, nearly bending in half as if a breeze is pulling it towards the dead end.
"Try the wall again," Ruen murmurs absently, as he flicks his fingers, drawing the illusionary flame closer. The fire practically leaps towards the stone.
"But you said?—"
Ruen nudges me towards the wall. "You try the right and I'll try the left," he says.
Scowling, I glare at him, but when his hands start to move over the uneven edges of the stones embedded into the wall, I don't bother to demand why the sudden change of heart. He's right, after all; I don't want to believe that Caedmon is really dead.
We spend the next several minutes going over the wall from top to bottom, grabbing on each rock, trying to find an uneven seam in the surface. Nothing. Yet, still the flame dances on over our heads as if calling us idiots for not finding a way in.
"Shit!" I snap, yanking my hand back as one of the rough edges of the stones slices through my palm.
"What—" Ruen stops and grabs ahold of my arm, tugging me closer as the well of blood appears in a perfect line from the bottom of my middle finger until it reaches the side of my hand.
"It's fine," I say, pulling my hand away from him and wiping it on my cloak. "It'll heal in a mom?—"
The flame goes out, interrupting my words, and as darkness descends, my heart leaps into my throat, swallowing the rest of my voice. I'm half convinced that Ruen was simply too startled to keep up the illusion when, after several seconds, there's no telltale sound of booted footsteps coming up the hall to trap us. Instead, though, a series of creaks and groans as if old wood is bending in a massive wind echoes into the confined space. Something hard brushes against the toe of my boot. I take a step back but it hits again.
Over and over again, I move away and Ruen follows me—the dull sound of his own footsteps and breaths my only indication of his whereabouts. The illusory flame flares to life, once more revealing that we've backed far enough away for the wall to come completely out. I gape at the wide space uncovered by the new entrance.
"There must be a spell on the locks," Ruen says.
I turn towards him. "No latch or pulley?"
Blue-purple eyes are locked on the chasm that descends into a staircase beyond. "No," he replies. "It wasn't anything that we pushed or pulled. This kind of spell only unlocks with the offering of blood.”