Chapter 11
There were some rooms in the palace I’d yet to venture into. The chalice room was one of them—courtesy of the perpetually locked door.
Dust motes floated across the rather small space and the glass case at its center. A stone stand, carved into the hourglass shape of Saltblood Isle, held the old cup that would somehow transport us to the islands containing the wards.
Age had speckled the golden chalice. Coral twined around the handles like lifeless blue serpents. Not only did it seem incapable of anything, but it was also hideous.
Brey stood before it with his hands tucked in the pockets of his black leather pants. “You’re late.”
“The wards have been waiting to be fed since your father’s reign.” The door creaked as I closed it behind me. “I doubt they’ll mind that I took my time deciding what to wear.”
Only when I stopped beside him did he look at me. His brows jumped.
I frowned. “What?”
“You’re wearing pants.”
“And?”
“You never wear pants.”
“There are things we must do and things I refuse to do.” I gazed down at my ensemble—a pair of olive britches, a flowing apricot blouse, and dimpled leather ankle boots. “And I must wear pants because I refuse to ruin one of my gowns for this.”
Amusement warmed his tone. “Not at all because wearing pants and boots is wise?”
My chin rose. “At least I’m not wearing a sword on my back.”
“I doubt you could, but I would greatly enjoy seeing you try.”
I made a face at the chalice. “Where did you find it anyway?”
“In the armory.”
Oh.
Eyeing the worn leather hilt peeking over his shoulder, I tried very hard not to imagine him swinging that blade at the worst this isle had to offer as I asked, “Do you use it often?”
“Often enough,” he muttered. “You’re wearing skin oil.”
“So?” I looked at his perfect face. “You moisturized.”
“Lotion doesn’t attract beasts.”
I snorted. “Yours certainly could. Besides, this room could do with something pleasant-smelling.” My nose scrunched. “It smells like no one has been in here since the wards were last fed.” Which would have been just over a century ago.
“Wouldn’t surprise me if that were true.”
Three aging paintings lined the walls—the isles housing the wards. Within each was a smear of vampire blood, marking where the wells resided. One mark was in the middle of an island, and the other two were closer to the edges. Save for cardinal directions, there were no instructions.
I looked back at the chalice. Dust almost hid the joined hands engraved in the stone stand, and what might have been blood seeping between them.
“Is there a letter somewhere?” Turning in a half circle, I asked, “Some sage guidance from your ancestors?”
But there was nothing else in the room. Just that ancient chalice, the stone stand, and those miserable excuses for maps.
“The wards can only be nourished by worthy rulers,” Brey said. “By those who can survive the terrain and what lurks there.”
“You sound like you just recited a passage from a boring book.”
He nodded at the chalice. “Something like that is engraved in the glass case.”
“Right,” I said. “So this cup won’t simply take us straight to the wards.”
“No.”
We both fell quiet, staring at the chalice.
“I really didn’t want to say anything, but…” I tilted my head. “That coral looks incredibly old. So old that it may fall off if we touch it.”
Brey scoffed but then leaned closer to the case. “Actually, you might be right.”
“Maybe we should have the cup looked at.” I nodded. “I would hate for us to accidentally ruin it and become the reason the wards are never fed again.”
Brey’s lips twitched as he straightened. Sighing, he stepped forward and placed his hands upon the dusty glass. “Or maybe the chalice is fine, and we’ll feel foolish for further delaying this.”
“I certainly wouldn’t go that far, but—”
A hum of energy surged into the room, silencing me.
Brey froze with the glass case in his hands.
“I think you should put that back,” I whispered, glaring wide-eyed at the chalice that appeared no different yet emanated an unearthly energy. “Right now.”
But he carefully set it down on the floor.
My heart pounded. I retreated to the door.
“Ethel,” Brey said, staring hard at the chalice. “Come.”
“Honestly, I truly just remembered that I—”
“Ethel.” His eyes met mine and narrowed. “We don’t have a choice.” Extending his hand, he said, “So let’s get it over with.”
He was right, of course. And we had delayed this for far too long.
Yet as I crept forward, it was not the chalice or what awaited that scared me, but Brey’s hand. My own shook as it rose. Held breath expanded my chest.
Then he lowered his hand and gently looped his fingers over the coral-wrapped handle.
He’d merely beckoned me, I realized, and ducked my head before he saw my face redden.
To make it seem like I’d never thought otherwise, I quickly moved my raised hand to the other handle. As soon as my fingers clasped it, the floor melted.
Darkness instantly snatched us, tearing shouts from us as we were sucked into an endlessly twirling torrent.
Seconds later, the torrent slowed.
Then dropped us onto something unbearably bright.
Sand.
Brey cursed.
Dazed, I stared at the sea scant feet away from me. It glittered like diamonds beneath the rising sun. I tried to speak, but the only sound I could make was a grunt when a hand curled around my shoulder and pushed me onto my back.
Blazing green eyes searched my face. A blown-out breath roughened his words. “Not dead.”
“Not yet,” I rasped, then coughed and noticed his empty hands. “Where’s the chalice?”
As if he hadn’t just been thrown down a river of utter darkness onto the sand, Brey rose fluidly to his feet. “It seemed very much stuck to that stand, so I’d wager it’s still at the palace.”
I sat up. “Then how do we get back?”
“One bothersome problem at a time, darling.” He stared down the beach, which ended with a large cropping of sharp rocks. “Right now, we need to head north.” He then gazed at the trees above the dunes. “That forest blocks the way, and it looks uninvitingly dense.”
“Then I imagine you’ll get along quite nicely with it.”
An iced look over his shoulder became a smirk. “Are you waiting for me to help you up?”
I scoffed. “No, but a gentleman woul—”
“Onward, then.” He marched toward the dunes.
I sighed and got to my feet to follow him.
Sand snuck into my boots. I hissed and walked on my toes. All that earned me was more sand in my boots and another amused look from Brey.
Before the trees stood a crumbling pile of stone. A worn path curled around each side of it.
I frowned. “How is there a path when no one comes here?”
Saltblood Isle wasn’t the only invisible island. Once these wards were fed, the isles they resided on were also veiled.
“Trust me.” Brey sauntered right past the pile of stone to the forest. “Some things are better left unknown.”
His double meaning failed to strike because as I neared the stone, I discovered it wasn’t merely stone at all.
It was a well. Or it once had been.
Spiders crawled around the mossy base and all over the well’s remains, some tiny and others as large as my hands. If water lay deep down within, I didn’t know. Webs stretched across the rim, too thick to see past.
A gust of warm wind delivered an unmistakable scent.
Blood.
Wondering if it could be the ward, I hurried after Brey into the forest. “That was a well,” I said. “What if it’s the ward?”
“It’s not.”
“How do you know?” I asked. “You barely even looked at it.”
“Because it would be too simple.”
Though he was probably right, I fought the urge to argue.
Thickly trunked trees soon caused the path to thin and turn sharply.
Ruby-colored sap glinted against the bark, which appeared to be a dark gray at first glance. Yet the farther we walked, the darker the bark and the forest became. Humid, too. Gazing up, I found only treetops so tightly intertwined that the brown and olive leaves failed to rustle.
A snarl echoed in the distance.
Fear slithered down my spine. Brey slowed.
Quietly, he unsheathed the sword I was now glad he’d brought along. I eyed the forest floor, then decided against it when I spied a pair of gold eyes peering at us from behind a fern. I moved closer to Brey.
The steel sword became a guiding light through the shadows. For some minutes, there was only the sound of our steps and the faint screech of gulls.
Until Brey hissed and halted.
He shook his foot about. Something foul-smelling flew from the pointed toe of his reptile-skin boot. “These are one of a kind. Croxine skin.”
Next to him loomed a monstrous pile of dung.
I covered my nose and mouth. “You made the leap from fur to endangered species quite quickly.”
“They’re endangered?”
“Those boots wouldn’t be one of a kind if they weren’t.”
He dropped his sword. “Fuck.”
“Indeed. You’re supposed to be somewhat intelligent,” I drawled. “It’s one of the few things that made me want to bed you. What beneath the moon possessed you to wear them on this venture anyway?”
He dragged the toe of his boot over the grass. “What possessed you to curl your hair for this venture?”
Airily, I teased, “You just never know when you might run into a handsome monster who’ll treat you like the vampire queen you are.”
A glacial glare was thrown at me. “You’re married.”
“Hasn’t stopped you from indulging, now has it?” I smiled, though just saying it caused my hands to clench as I imagined scraping my nails down his pretty face. “Fair is fair, darling.”
Ignoring that, apparently, he returned to rubbing the dung off his boot and asked, “Few things?” He scoffed. “Was one my willingness to look past the sordid secrets hidden behind your cruel candidness?”
“Actually, one of those things just so happened to be that you weren’t so damned typical.” I kicked a rock into the brush. “Another lie.”
His upper lip almost curled. “I am spectacularly far from typical, wife.”
“You’ve certainly proven otherwise these past moons, and just a moment ago by assuming a woman does her hair for anyone other than herself.” I snatched his sword from the grass and walked on. “Now cease fussing. I’m hungry.”
“Eating more than wine for dinner does wonders for that, you know.”
“You don’t eat wine.” Dryly, I said, “You truly aren’t as smart as I once thought.”
As if trying to smother a laugh, he coughed.
I made it all of ten feet before my shoulder barked from the sword’s unexpected weight. The unnecessarily long weapon was so heavy that the only thing keeping me from dropping it was my pride. But I trudged on into the ever-growing darkness.
And silence.
Such silence, all I could hear were our booted steps. Unease soon slowed my pace and dampened my nape.
“Ethel,” Brey said quietly—so quietly, I almost missed it. “Run.”