Chapter 52
Von
T hree days had passed since we’d separated from the others.
By now, they should have reached Viscourt.
We, however, were only halfway to the Naftiah Desert, which Artemesia said would take us about six days to reach by flight.
So, under the concealment of my shadows, Folkoln and I carried the girls as we flew toward our destination while Kaleb kept up in his raven form.
Every once in a while, we would stop so the girls could eat and Kaleb could rest his wings, which was exactly what we were doing now, although the girls had already finished eating and Artemesia was leading us to Creator knew where.
My boots struck the brick-paved streets as we strolled through the city of Westridge.
From what I could see, the city was small enough that everyone probably knew their neighbors, but big enough that it had plenty of amenities.
The center of the city was full of various shops, packed from wall to wall.
Females, of many different races and species, flocked down the streets, moving like pack animals as they chattered.
Artemesia and Sage walked ahead of Folkoln and me, while Kaleb perched on Sage’s shoulder. My hands were bound by Artemesia’s sad, frayed rope, the bottom half of my face covered with a purple scarf embroidered with delicate flowers and finished with a frilly, white lace.
Did I look ridiculous? Definitely.
Did I care? Not really.
I was too invested in watching the sexy sway of Sage’s hips as she strolled ahead of me.
The little flick of her hips each time she took another step was doing wicked things to my thoughts, filling me with sinister intentions.
I sank my teeth into my bottom lip, wishing it was her plump peach I was biting instead.
Enjoying the view, love? Sage purred through our bond, using my own words against me.
Cheeky female.
The corner of my mouth lifted into a grin. I left her waiting for a moment before I said in a husky tone, Out of all the lands I’ve traveled to and the incredible sights I’ve witnessed, I’ve never seen a greater one.
Her breathy laughter warmed my cold heart. Such a charmer, she teased.
I only speak the truth , I said, as we passed by a group of women. Some glanced our way, their curious eyes drifting over me and Folkoln. Their whispered murmurs were easy to make out—they discussed how rich our owners must be to have such fine stock.
My eyes met Folkoln’s briefly, our egos thoroughly fed.
An astringent flavor burst across my tongue. It tasted bitter, like a rotten, sour lemon. I knew what it was—
Jealous, Little Goddess? I asked through our connection.
Territorial, she corrected. I have half a mind to rip that cloth from your face and kiss you in front of them, just so they know you are mine.
I chuckled . My, my, how things have changed.
She glanced over her shoulder, shooting me an innocent smile, then looked back ahead. If there was one absolute truth I knew, it was this—I would do anything for Sage. All she had to do was speak the words, and I would follow her to the ends of the universe.
We walked by another group of women. Following behind them, dressed in rags, with a collar around his neck and a mask on his face, was a man.
His eyes were downcast, his shoulders curved from a lifetime of servitude.
There was no pride in his step, no vigor in his wilting torso.
He was but a shell, a vessel—the light from his soul long burnt out.
How far the male gender had fallen in this realm.
In truth, when I looked at the cruel and violent acts mankind committed back home, I could understand why they ended up as they had.
I thought of Lyra and what those soldiers had done to her, leaving her so bruised and broken like that.
She had been lucky to escape with her life.
And even though her bones and scars had healed, the trauma they had inflicted still haunted her.
She had chosen not to speak—because of what they had done to her.
Those soldiers had stolen her voice.
How many other men had done that?
How many had raped and murdered women?
And it wasn’t like the New Gods were any better.
Aurelius had treated Sage as if she were his slave, forcing her to stand beside his throne while he sat on his lazy, pompous ass.
He’d always wanted her to be less than him, never equal.
When I thought of his intentions for her, to use her as if she were breeding stock, a factory to produce his repulsive little heirs, my bloodless veins began to boil.
Sure, Sage would have been fine with that at first, but what happened when she grew tired of child rearing?
I knew the answer to that.
Aurelius was too self-serving to care what her wishes were. He would have done as he pleased, believing that he had a right to her body, to force his children inside her.
The thought fanned my fury.
You are serving up quite the tasty meal, brother, Folkoln’s voice entered my thoughts. What’s gotten you so fired up?
Men, I replied flatly.
Folkoln chuckled. You and every other female.
I didn’t respond, didn’t care to.
Folkoln said, I spoke with Saphira today. Sounds like she might have—
I swung my gaze at him, my eyes a well-sharpened ax cutting off his words. I couldn’t care less what Saphira is doing . If you want to talk to the traitor, go for it, but I don’t need any updates.
Aren’t you a little bit interested in finding out what our sister has been—
No updates, I reiterated firmly, looking ahead.
Artemesia stopped. So did Sage.
The rope slackened as I walked up behind my wife.
“This is it,” Artemesia said, gesturing toward the shop to our right. Unlike the other buildings, it didn’t have large windows, but small oval ones, the dark stained glass making it impossible to see beyond them. Artemesia opened the door, a bell to chiming, and we all stepped inside.
Robed figures peppered the innards of the musty-smelling building. They stood with books in their hands, their faces covered by white porcelain masks. The wood floors were cluttered with stacks of books, leaving small paths to walk.
Sage leaned in to her sister and whispered, “I’m guessing they don’t serve food here.”
“No, they don’t. Come on,” Artemesia said as she started down one of the paths.
We followed behind her, winding our way toward the back of the building.
Sitting at a desk in front of a stairwell was a female whose face and body were covered in scales. Her slit pupils scanned each one of us as we approached. Her reptilian eyes landed on Artemesia. A thin, forked tongue flicked past her lips. “It’sss been a while,” she said, hissing every s .
“It has,” Artemesia acknowledged. “We’ve come for our meeting with the seer. ”
“Whossse name isss the booking under?” the female asked.
“Mine,” Artemesia answered.
She looked down at the paper on her desk, running her finger from top to bottom. “I do not sssee your name on the lissst.”
“Check again.” Artemesia tossed a small cloth sack on the papers, the coins inside clattering in response.
“Ahh, here you are,” the female said as she tapped the page. She slid the cloth pouch off the table and then gestured to the stairwell. “She’sss waiting for you.”
A few minutes later, we were in the lower level, Folkoln and I standing at the back of the room.
Sage and Artemesia knelt before an older woman, who sat crossed-legged on top of a small, elevated platform.
Beads hung around her. Her eyelids were closed, a smear of black paint swept over her mouth.
Her lips looked almost too big for her face, as if a lifetime of talking had made them that way.
She looked incredibly pale, to the point one might think she hadn’t seen a day in the sun.
“What an interesting group we have here,” the seer said. She held out her hand toward Sage. “Come, child. The future summons you.”
“Drop the bullshit, Helga,” Artemesia cut in.
The seer’s eyelids flipped open, and she let out a cackle. “Ah, Artemesia, I should have realized it was you.” She looked at Sage, then me, then Folkoln. Her eyes started to twinkle, her lips curving. “Wherever did you find them?
“None of your concern,” Artemesia replied, not willing to part with any more information.
“Oh, come on now. Don’t be so secretive all the time.
I won’t tell anyone.” She paused. One long, bony finger tapped her paint-smeared lips.
“Say, I know you aren’t in the business of selling slaves, but what if you loaned one out for a little .
. . ride? I like the one with the piercings. He looks positively wild!”
“They aren’t for sale,” Artemesia stated flatly, her expression like a slab of stone, cold and hard and unforgiving.
“That is a real pity,” Helga said. Reaching over to a small silver tray that sat beside her, she plucked a matching silver pot. She began to pour a cup of what I imagined to be tea for herself. “Every time I see you, you have different slaves. Whatever do you do with them all?”
“I take them to the arena,” Artemesia replied, shrugging a shoulder as if it meant nothing to her. “I find it rather amusing watching them scrap like dogs, fighting to the death.”
“As do we all,” Helga said as she blew on her cup, the steam swirling forward.
Folkoln eyed Artemesia, one pierced brow lifting ever so slightly.
I realized he didn’t know what Artemesia was up to. However, because Sage had shared her memories with me, I did. Artemesia wasn’t taking the men she rescued to the arena to be put down like animals—she was taking them to Veshameer, the Hidden City, where they could live freely.
It was all very . . . Sage of her .
It’s a charade , I spoke into Folkoln’s mind.
How so? he asked.
It’s not my place to say. You’ll have to talk to Artemesia about it.
Alright. He didn’t press; he knew me well enough to know I wouldn’t talk—a fish’s watertight asshole had fuck all on me.
Helga took a small sip before she jerked the cup back from her face, causing some to slosh over the brim of her cup and spill on her hand. “Ooh, ooh, that’s hot!” Swiftly, she put the cup down and dried her hand on her robes.
As she did this, Artemesia asked, “What do you know about the sandstorm the Goddess of Knowledge uses to protect her palace?”
“I’ve heard a few whispers here and there—however, it’s going to cost you.” Helga chuckled.
Artemesia reached for her coin purse. “How much?”
Helga flicked her hand, indicating she wasn’t interested in money. “Five minutes with him.” She nodded to Folkoln.
“No,” Artemesia answered firmly, the smallest hint of a growl on the back of her tongue.
Interesting.
“Then, in that case, I know nothing,” Helga said, reaching for her cup again.
“Perhaps,” I cut in as I took a step forward, “we can make a different deal. I can trade you information that will be of use to you.”
Her blue eyes flicked to mine, a hint of surprise in them. “Oh?” she asked. “And what might that be? ”
Asserting my authority, I tipped my head ever so slightly, eyes narrowing on her with lethal aim. “How you will die.”
She scoffed. “Impossible. Only Death itself knows when that day will come.”
“Exactly,” I said, my flesh and skin dissolving from one half of my face until there was nothing but iron bone left. I placed a casual hand in my pocket. “Your time is coming faster than you think, but if I tell you, you might be able to escape your fate.”
It was a lie—no one could escape Death.
But she didn’t need to know that.
“What are you?” she hissed, scrunching back. Her heartbeat quickened its pace, pounding her fear into my ears.
“You know the answer to that,” I said as I let my shadows free.
They crept up the wall behind me, twisting my likeness, making it more monstrous, with horns and jagged teeth.
Some formed arms, reaching around my torso.
And then, there were the ones that started to crawl toward her, their heads twisting unnaturally to the side.
Her eyes stretched wide with horror.
Something spicy and sweet bloomed on my tongue, making my mouth water. An invisible chain tugged, and I spared a brief glance at Sage, noting the sultry look on her face. She sunk her teeth into her bottom lip.
You are beyond sexy right now , her seductive voice came through the bond.
I tried not to smirk .
“What will it be, Helga?” Artemesia asked, going along with it. “Do you want the deal or not?”
“Yes, I’ll take it,” she said desperately, still cowering. “Just call those things off.”
“Wonderful,” I patronized, my face returning to normal as I reined my umbra in. A new tattoo formed on my forearm—a knife swirled in a ribbon of sand. “You go first.”
“Alright,” she replied swiftly. “There is a riddle I’ve heard. If you can find a way to solve it, you might just be able to pass through the sandstorm.”
“What is it?” Sage asked.
Helga thought for a moment before she said, “I’m there at the beginning of life and I’m there at the end. You can see me in the water, but I never get wet. I have no voice, but I’m faster than sound. I am a symbol of hope, especially in darkness. What am I?”
Silence lingered.
“You can take your time to think about it,” she said, her gaze shifting to mine. “Now, about your end of the deal?” She posed it as a question, even though it was something we had already agreed on.
“In exactly three weeks’ time, someone close to you will slit your throat with a poisoned blade,” I replied, eyeing the scars I could see forming on her flesh. Invisible to the others, but not to me.
“Who does it?” she asked, her hands wrangling in her lap.
“Just like the riddle you gave us, that’s up to you to figure out,” I answered .
“Light,” Sage said, grabbing everyone’s attention. “Light is there in the beginning of life and at the end. You can see it in water, but it doesn’t get wet. It has no voice, but it’s faster than sound. Light is a symbol of hope, especially in the darkness.”
“That’s it!” Artemesia exclaimed.
I grinned. My clever, clever wife.