Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
I am constantly reminded that there are much worse things than death.
Sometimes, one of the servant girls will look at me, and for a flash, all I see is her.
I cannot properly communicate the pain it brings me.
I will never say it aloud, but sometimes, I envy her, my friend who was torn from this cruel world too soon.
At least, for a time, she has a chance at peace.
—Lady Anabeth, Royal Scribe’s Apprentice, D’anna
Steep, craggy peaks the color of obsidian rose from above the cloud line.
The air had grown much cooler in the last hour, and it smelled vaguely of smoke and sulfur.
Below, the land was rocky and barren. Nya craned her neck, palms flat against the warmth of Varax’s smooth, crimson scales as the wind tore her hair free of the braids she had pulled it into this morning.
When she saw the first bursting plume of sparking-red lava, she bit the inside of her cheek, unease stirring her stomach.
Something about this place felt oddly familiar.
The wind.
The smell.
Even the way the air almost seemed to shimmer and shift at the edges…
Her pulse quickened. There was a thrumming deep in her chest, and she had to wonder: Had she been here before?
It was completely impossible, given she had never before stepped foot in Arcadia in all her twenty-six years. But as they dropped altitude, nearing the side of one of the larger peaks, she couldn’t deny the strange, pulsing feeling of familiarity. Perhaps she had dreamt of it once?
Eyes still on the barren landscape, she asked Varax, What is this place?
“It’s called the Gods’ Aisle,” Morgen said in her ear, his voice low and nearly lost to the frigid, rushing gales around them.
She tightened her jaw, suppressing a shiver of heat at his closeness, despite the cold air. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
Varax huffed, a small burst of fire escaping from her open maw and momentarily blasting heat and smoke in their faces.
To their right, astride his ash-toned dragon, Carus called, “Problem?”
Morgen waved his concern off with one hand, the other still wrapped around Nya’s waist. She had been fighting to ignore his touch for hours now.
She wasn’t sure why he hadn’t just portalled them here, even as much as the idea of doing that unnerved her.
Still, it would be better than the infuriating, shameful heat she had been constantly tamping down during their long flight.
It had been over a year since she had last seen Morgen.
She had fled Mise and traveled to Aren within days.
She ignored both Varax and Morgen’s voices until they stopped trying altogether.
Or so she had thought. Her traitorous body still remembered his touch.
She could only hope he was too distracted to notice the insistent pounding of her pulse that had too little to do with fear she should be feeling.
They landed with a sudden jolt, snapping Nya out of her haze.
The entrance to what appeared to be some sort of underground cave system yawned open wide just ahead, like the snapping jaws of some enormous beast. She wished it really was some living creature, ready to swallow her up and make her disappear forever.
Maybe she had always wanted that, even before Morgen had come into her life.
Perhaps, torn apart in the teeth of a predator, she would at least feel some sort of purpose.
The cliff that the dragons idled atop it jutted out just enough to fit them both, surrounded on all sides by thin chasms filled with red-hot lava bubbling a short way below. Every few seconds, the molten, burning substance rose nearly to the top, though it didn’t ever spill over.
Next to them, Carus’ dragon practically threw him off its back and then flew off, shrieking.
“The impatient bastard couldn’t wait an extra minute,” Carus said, shaking his head at the disappearing form as he got to his feet, dusting off his pants. “I’m hungry too, but that doesn’t mean I go around flinging people off my back and giving them sprained ankles.”
You should tell your idiot friend to be careful—again. Veeron tells me he only let slip the insults because he needed to hunt more than he needed to bite his human.
Nya ignored Varax, heart in her throat as she observed all around her, trying to catalog it quickly. She was quickly beginning to understand what was happening; this was the cold place Morgen had often described, and Carus must be the ‘friend’ he had once briefly spoken of.
Though Varax had just called Carus an idiot, she didn’t make the mistake of assuming he was weak.
He was broad and obviously trained physically.
He could probably kill her in a dozen different ways if he wanted.
According to the books she had studied with her mother as a child, very few in Arcadia were not trained with a blade or bow.
When everyone else could also use magic, it was useful to have other ways to kill, or at least maim, your opponents.
He had the same shade of tawny skin as her, but his mop of light hair was more blonde than silver.
She was sure he had some sort of magic, though she couldn’t quite tell which bloodline just from the energy surrounding him.
Almost all with magic—mortals and gods alike—gave off a similar vibration.
The intensity depended on the breadth of their magic, and the few people Nya had encountered with some distant relation to one of the principals tended to exude a lower, more resonant vibration.
Carus’ magic felt like that.
It was the most powerful resonance she had felt from anyone, aside from her parents or Morgen.
Perhaps it meant one of his parents was a demi-god.
The power would be slightly diluted but still stronger than most. She had learned from the sisters at the temple that demi-gods weren’t actually all that common, and only a handful of the principals actually had the large number of children mortals assumed all of them did.
The term had evidently become more of an exaggeration than a true indicator of parentage in the past century.
Who knew how many demi-gods actually existed anymore, as bloodlines diluted and mixed?
“Like what you see, sweetheart?” Carus quipped, and she cursed herself silently for staring at him for too long as she’d been thinking.
“I’ll have to turn you down. You’re very pretty, but you’re not my type, and besides, I know better by now than to touch Morgen’s things…
or soon to be things? Not sure on that one yet, but let’s just say, I like my eyes where they are. ”
She ground her teeth but ignored him, jumping smoothly off Varax. Carus watched her dust off her hands, head tilted to the side.
“Morgen?” Carus was staring at her as he said it, his brow furrowed.
“What.”
He was right behind her, and she could feel the irritation emanating from him, mingling with his magic and manifesting so strongly, the vibration pitched her ears and shimmered in the air.
“She’s ridden on dragon-back before, hasn’t she?”
Morgen made some noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. “I’m sure she has. Her parents have two of them, evidently.”
Carus looked past her, holding Morgen’s gaze, a brow raised. It was obvious Morgen hadn’t told Carus of their meetings, though she wasn’t sure why.
After a moment, Carus gave up, throwing his hands in the air and sighing dramatically. “Fine, fine. Let’s just get inside before the storm starts.”
Nya glanced at the sky. Though it was gray and cloudy, the atmosphere appeared mostly calm, aside from the cold breeze.
She stiffened when Morgen grabbed her arm. “We’re going inside.”
She held firm where she was, knowing if he was anywhere near the same person she had once thought he was, he wasn’t about to drag her inside, not by force. Tilting her head back so she looked him directly in the eye, she demanded, “Where. Are. We.”
His nostrils flared, and she felt a tiny shock of electricity where his skin met hers. “I told you. It’s called the Gods’ Aisle.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“You’ve never been to Arcadia.”
“I’ve seen maps. This is not on any of them.”
Carus coughed loudly. “Ah, have you considered, sweetheart, that it might not be in our best interest to tell you exactly where you are?”
She tore her arm from Morgen’s grasp, narrowing her eyes at Carus. “What, afraid I’m going to summon Thessilnn and Heles here? They’re very big and very protective of me. I also understand they haven’t had a good fight in nearly a century.”
Carus thinned his lips, unnerved, but Morgen only said flatly, “Except you couldn’t reach them, could you?
And on the off chance you manage to at this distance, it won’t matter.
I will not be divulging the exact details of our location to you, and it’s not common knowledge, even to your parents. We are going inside. Now.”
A few flashes of bright crimson lightning in the distance suddenly cut across the sky, and the low rumble of thunder vibrated the stone.
The quiet was all at once disturbed, and the smell of rain hit her nose.
It was as if one moment, the valley was gray and still, and the next, it was seconds away from chaos.
Carus rubbed at his forehead, surveying the coming storm, then shrugged once and headed for the cave entrance.
Morgen glanced at her, but this time, she looked away immediately, following Carus. They appeared to be right about the storm, and as much as she didn’t want to do anything either of them said, this was Arcadia. Perhaps they weren’t bluffing when they insisted they needed to take shelter.
As they ducked into the dark, cool tunnel, Morgen murmured in a low voice, “I will say this only once, Nya: do not try to run. You won’t make it far, not alive.”
Her breath caught at the delicate feel of his breath brushing against the shell of her ear. “Is that a threat?”