Chapter 8
Nelle
Graysen had gone quiet.
A deep line carved itself between his thick brows, drawn over narrowed eyes as we ascended the rough-cut steps.
His arm stayed firmly wrapped around my shoulders, but he’d grown more introspective the higher we climbed.
I didn’t pry or urge him to share whatever arrested his thoughts.
Instead, I let him be, grateful he didn’t suspect what I’d done—actually stolen from a Horned God and gotten away with it.
I was still a little shell-shocked myself.
I couldn’t believe I’d found the mites, and that they were settled on the collar, gorging on Zrenyth’s magic.
My twentieth birthday was two weeks away, and from my understanding, that was how long it would take for them to chew through the rope… if they could.
A chilling worry crept across my skin like a winter’s day drawing to an end. Zrenyth’s rope was thick, far thicker than the thin sliver of leather I’d found them crawling over in the bottom of the jar.
What if the chunkiness of the rope was too much?
What if they needed more time than I had?
Anxiety wormed its way inside my body, but a thread of hope wove through too. Maybe having a generous cluster of mites gnawing at the magic would weaken Zrenyth’s hold on the wyrm. Maybe I’d connect with my wyrm before the collar was severed from my neck.
We climbed in silence, our footsteps echoing around us.
The billow of my dress snapped against my shins as the Horned God’s might stirred the air, twirling the ends of my hair.
At the top landing, before the dead-end wall where the utility closet waited beyond, Graysen squeezed my fingers gently before pulling his hand free of mine.
I tucked the wayward waves of hair behind my ear while he raised a fist to the black rock. We shared a brief glance as he rapped his knuckles—one, two, three—and eerie green magic flared to life, zipping across the pitted surface to outline a door.
At his broad grin and the warmth in his gaze, a rush of wild emotion swept through me like a twisting tempest, tingling my fingertips and toes, whirling right to the crown of my head. My lips curled into a smile…
And then—
A bitter wave of confusion crashed over me, and my smile faded as he turned back to the wall and pressed his palm against the heavy doorway to push it open.
My feelings for Graysen were getting more and more complicated.
The animosity with which I regarded him had dissipated since last night when our bodies had come together and we’d burned as one.
Everything between us was tangling tighter.
Earlier, I’d wanted to soothe his melancholy, kiss away his despair.
How could I want that when I was going to escape and run?
How could I feel that way for someone who wasn’t only my jailer but my executioner as well?
Suddenly I was shying away, blinking against the fizzing light of the closet and breathing in its stale, chemical-laced air.
The soles of my shoes met smooth lino as I stepped out from beneath Graysen’s arm and re-entered the world of the market and Ascendria.
The moment I crossed the threshold, the heaviness cloying my lungs slipped out of me on a soft puff of breath.
I knew what I had to do—look out for myself.
So I shoved all those strange, warring feelings I held for Graysen deep down into a place of shadows.
Though I no longer had an appetite, I still plucked the limp paper bag of fudges and caramels off the shelf, tucking the sunglasses into a skirt pocket before trailing Graysen to the closet door.
By the time he reached it, his body was a rigid line, an icy expression frosting his features.
He latched his fingers around the handle, twisted, and pulled the battered door open.
Luther and the two bodyguards we’d left behind were waiting. Luther’s expression was stoic, but I caught the quick flash of relief in his gaze when it landed on Graysen.
“See? All in one piece,” Graysen drawled, sweeping his hands wide.
Luther’s mouth flattened with annoyance, but he quickly took charge, issuing orders. Graysen reclaimed my shopping bags from one of the guards, and I leaned sideways to drop my stash of leftover sweets into the bag holding the snow globe he’d bought me.
Luther stalked ahead, and we fell in behind him while the other two guards held the rear.
As we approached the corner leading back to the market’s restrooms, Graysen’s phone erupted with a barrage of pings—messages that must have been waiting while we were in the Purveyor’s lair.
All I heard was ping, ping, ping, above the rising buzz of the market.
He shifted the bags to one hand and fished out his phone as we rounded the corner. The industrial lighting hummed overhead and cast a pale haze across the thinning crowd. Fewer people milled around the stalls, and it seemed the market was winding down for the day.
An abrupt sensation crackled across my exposed skin like a burst of static electricity.
An awareness. Of what, I wasn’t sure. My gaze skimmed the faces moving toward us, smiles and laughter, a woman bent over her phone like Graysen.
And beyond her, the barest glimpse of someone in a baseball cap shifting out of sight behind a group of giggling teenage girls heading toward the restroom corridor.
However, as soon as my attention snagged on the swinging restroom door, the faint flush of a toilet reminded me, true to nature, that it was time to relieve myself.
Graysen was preoccupied with the messages flooding in on his phone. He frowned, squinting at the screen, scrolling downward, and muttering beneath his breath, “Hells, fucking hells.”
Whatever was going on, I didn’t care. I fucking needed to pee—now! I tapped his shoulder. “I need to go to the bathroom.” It took a second prod before he finally glanced at me.
“Huh?”
I arched an exasperated eyebrow, flipping up a hand and pointing to the door ahead. “The restroom. I need to visit it.”
“Yeah, sure,” he murmured, gaze already locked back on his phone.
“Just make sure I can reach that far,” I bit out, tapping the collar at my throat. I had no idea how long my leash stretched.
He nodded distractedly, brow furrowing as he rubbed his mouth, completely absorbed with whatever message he was reading.
It was Luther who slowed and ordered a guard to escort me. I peeled away while the others continued toward the market. Graysen’s pace quickened, his attention split between typing rapidly and furtively scanning the crowd as if searching for someone.
My assigned bodyguard was male, so when I pushed through the swinging door to the women’s restroom, he had to remain outside. “Five minutes,” he said quietly.
I rolled my eyes. With the godsdamned collar around my neck, what did he think I was going to do? I couldn’t exactly crawl out of a tiny bathroom window like I’d often seen in movies.
The bathroom was large and bright, split by a wall of basins and tall mirrors.
An athletic girl with a messy black bun leaned over a sink, slicking on lip gloss, and a sophisticated woman in a sharp skirt suit swept past me with a Hermès bag hooked in the crook of her arm.
I slipped into the back area, found an empty stall, and shut the door.
As I sat, my thoughts spun through the strange afternoon with Graysen in Florin’s lair.
How many Horned Gods lived outside the collective?
How many didn’t prey on mortals? Though Florin was scary, he also seemed nice.
And his magnificent lair…gods, I could have spent years cataloguing everything he’d collected.
Finished up, a rush of tumbling water filled the stall, and I rose, righting my clothing.
Leaving the stall, I strode straight to the long line of washbasins and washed my hands.
Like the smooth white basin churning with hot water, ideas tumbled through my head about what would happen next.
We’d probably head back to Graysen’s family estate…
unless he let me wander the market a little longer.
Maybe even explore the city. A thrill zinged down my spine at the thought.
Maybe we’d end up at the Night Bazaar. Lise had raved about it, Evvie too.
My older sisters had shared so many wonderful stories about the enchanting bazaar. Aldan had taken Lise there on one of their dates, and one summer evening my father had escorted Evvie after she’d begged him to take her.
My sweet, thoughtful sister had gone to the bazaar for me.
Evvie had used her phone to record the vibrant sights and wares, the golden starbursts of fireworks razoring across the dark sky, the astonishing fire-eaters and steel drummers.
Upon her return home, she snuggled up on my bed to share every moment she’d captured.
Evvie.
Lise.
Excruciating longing for my sisters shoved me under its hopeless depths. I wanted nothing more than to fling myself into their arms, hold them tight and stay with them forever. I swallowed back the bitter lump in my throat, the heavy, hollow heartache expanding in my chest.
Lifting my chin, determination surged through me, burning the despair to ash. I would see them again. Soon. When the mites freed me from the collar.
Suddenly, above the sound of churning water, came the tinkling chime of a little girl’s laugh and tiny footsteps running to the door.
I tilted my head to listen closely as her mother chased after her and called her daughter’s name in exasperation.
A swing of the door… another… and then they were gone, and the only sound was the splash of water running over my fingers.
The metal tap squeaked as I turned the water off and tugged a paper towel free from the dispenser.
The quilted paper became limp and waterlogged as I dried my hands.
Scrunching it into a wet ball, I tossed it into the litter bin.
Heaving a sigh, I raised my arms, intending to fix my hair, smooth the fuzzy curls, and flip the long locks over my shoulder… when I froze.
A scent whirled around me. A scent that inspired wild ocean spindrift, undercut by leather and masculine spice.
My gaze snapped to the steam-clouded mirror, to the reflection of someone wearing a black baseball cap that shadowed the top half of their face as they stepped right behind me.
A man.
His approach had been so soft that I hadn’t heard it. My heart punched my ribcage, threatening to burst from my chest. My mouth parted in a scream. A scream that died before it had a chance to be born when he held a finger to his lips.
The stranger snatched the hat from his head, revealing a flattened mess of short brown hair. He raised a palm, his voice low and urgent. “I keep doing this, startling you… I’m sorry.”
Dustin Reed.
What the hells was he doing here?
So many questions rattled around in my head that I found it impossible to focus on just one of them. Why was he here? How had he gotten past the bodyguard? Into the female restrooms? To see me? Why hadn’t I seen him on the Crowthers’ estate?
From the front area came the crash of the door being shoved open, the sounds of clattering high heels, and a squeak of sneakers on the tile. Teenage girls spilled in, gossiping loudly. Dustin grabbed my hand, whirled me around, and pulled me into a stall. The metal lock clicked into place.
He stilled, frowning as he listened. The girls split apart, still chattering, moving to use the bathroom facilities.
His long, tapered fingers looped around my hand felt rough and calloused, similar to Graysen’s.
And a crack of restless energy pulsed across my skin.
I peered up at his profile, tracing the strong lines of his face, the dark chestnut lashes, the firm set of his mouth.
I was hyperaware of how closely we stood, the warmth of his body licking outward to meet mine.
He wasn’t as tall as Graysen, leaner too, with a wiry build beneath his clothes.
Dustin Reed.
I couldn’t deny he was attractive.
But I also knew nothing about him.
I was confined in a small space with a man I didn’t know, far too soon after Danne. A familiar dread unfurled inside me, swift and merciless. I yanked my hand from his and edged back, but my legs hit the toilet behind me and I nearly lost my balance.
Dustin spun around.
He blinked, his jaw slackening, obviously reading the unease scrawled all over my features. I instinctively shifted back a fraction, my shoulders tightening, but he lifted both palms in a quick, reassuring gesture, then whispered. “I’m sorry… I, ah… Did you get my message?”
I had. I’d found the mites too. But I needed him to say the other out loud. “How did you get your hands on the letter?”
“Evelene,” he replied, lowering his hands to his sides.
Relief flooded me at the sound of Evvie’s name, untangling all the tense knots in my muscles. Her name spoken aloud brought a smile to my lips. Evvie was the only one in my family who knew about those letters from my mysterious pen pal. Letters written to me and passed through her.
Dustin visibly relaxed at my reaction. As he spoke, he kneaded the baseball cap clutched in his fingers. “She knew you’d know to trust me if I handed the letter over to you.”
My gaze flicked over him. He looked striking yet ordinary in dark-wash jeans, a casual blue t-shirt, and a black cap, nothing like the formal servant’s uniform he’d worn in the library at the Keep.
I might not know Dustin Reed, but my sister did, if the letters he’d secretly given me were any indication.
If Evvie trusted him, then I would too.