Chapter 25
D awn arrived long before I was ready.
Probably because I spent the remainder of the night in fitful unrest, my mind spinning from one dilemma to the next.
But the start of a new day brought no solutions as I stood at the balcony, watching the stars twinkle in the purple sky.
The wedding was in four days, and I had no idea how to get out of it.
Lorcan and I needed to talk. Today, I’d speak to him in the Everless.
The merman spewed water into the air. Behind him, the maze stretched to the horizon.
It had switched from the forest sometime in the night.
Delphine was still absent. Memories of the dungeon surfaced in my mind.
Had she toiled there in the night, dragging prisoners on the brink of death back to life so Rasimir could devour them?
Was the pixie’s sister still alive, or had Rasimir killed her like he’d killed her brother?
The answer came at once. No. The woman had been angry when Delphine had healed her. She’d wanted to die. Rasimir would force her to live as long as possible, denying her the very thing she craved.
A giant, snowy-white bird swooped across the courtyard and landed next to the merman. Gripping the railing, I leaned forward, my eyes locked on the winged creature.
The bird formed into Delphine in a swirl of white feathers.
I froze, my heart pounding, as she looked around and then darted into the hedges.
Before I could even think of what to do next, an enormous wolf bolted from the shadows beneath the balcony, raced across the courtyard, and plunged into the maze.
No, not a wolf. A werewolf. He—or she—had followed Delphine. I had to warn her.
Spinning from the balcony, I rushed through my chamber, only to stop halfway to the door. I couldn’t leave in my nightgown. Darting to the armoire, I rifled through my dresses. Red flashed, and I stopped with my fingers on the dragonstone gown.
The dragons were true shape-shifters. They could take any form they chose.
My heart sped up as I flung off my nightgown and pulled the dress over my head. Then I squeezed my eyes shut and concentrated. I need something that will hide me from the guards. Actually, everyone. I need you to hide me from everyone.
Change swept down the dress, the stones sinking into the fabric and then fading from sight.
More fabric bunched at my neck, and I rushed to the mirror in time to see a hood swell from the collar and drape down my back.
The dress covered me from neck to toe, the black material glittering. But was it invisible?
I looked at the door. One way to find out.
Pulling the hood over my head, I shoved my feet into slippers, then went to the door and cracked it open. The corridor was empty. I stepped into it and eased the door shut behind me, my ears pricked for sounds of approaching servants or guards. When the silence held, I hurried to the stairs.
One floor down, voices drifted around the corner.
Panic gripped me as I darted my gaze left and right, searching for a hiding place.
But only plain walls greeted me. There were no suits of armor, no tapestries.
The corridor stretched empty in both directions, with no alcoves or doorways to duck into.
A man and a woman rounded the corner. The woman’s wig was askew, her pile of powdered curls balancing precariously on her head. Blood stained the front of the man’s jacket. He clutched a bottle of blood-wine in one hand and a riding crop in the other.
My breath seized in my lungs. I was caught. I’d ruined everything.
The woman stumbled. “Fuck,” she gasped, staggering sideways and slapping a hand against the nearest wall. Her breasts heaved above her silk bodice as she steadied herself.
The man paused, blood-wine sloshing from the rim of his bottle. “Hurry up,” he slurred. “I’m exhausted.”
She bared her fangs at him as she straightened.
“From what? Drinking and fucking all night?” She eyed his riding crop, a cruel smile playing on her bright red lips.
“Although it wasn’t all night, was it, dear?
I paid attention. You plowed half a dozen servants, and that wine bottle was the only thing that stayed hard. ”
He raised a brow as he swished the crop, sending a whistling sound into the air. When the woman’s smile widened, he took a swig of blood-wine, his eyes never leaving hers.
Neither of them looked at me. I held my breath as the man swaggered toward the woman.
“You sound jealous, Tomasina,” he said, a suggestive smile quirking his lips. He cupped his groin as he neared her. “You hungry for some of this, love?”
Ugh.
She giggled, her bloodstained fangs showing, then she flung her arms around his neck and gazed up at him. “Starving.”
With a laugh, he flung aside his crop, then bent and hoisted her over his shoulder.
She squealed, slapping at his back, but her laughter rang in the corridor as he started forward with a determined look on his face.
Her wig fell to the ground as he swept past me, his bloodshot eyes sweeping over me as if I didn’t exist.
I held my breath until their drunken laughter faded. Then I released it in a rush, relief slumping my shoulders. The cloak worked. I was as good as invisible—and I had to reach Delphine.
I didn’t encounter any other courtiers as I made my way through the rest of the Drakhold.
Knights stared through me. Servants rushed past me, their eyes blank and their faces pinched.
Cold nipped at my cheeks as I raced across the courtyard and slipped behind the merman.
As I hunched against his pedestal, the hedges at the maze’s entrance stretched at least a dozen feet above my head.
The greenery formed a straight path for about ten feet and then branched in opposite directions.
I looked at the Drakhold over my shoulder. Several windows were lit up. Probably servants were lighting fires and preparing for the coming day. But Delphine wasn’t. She was inside the maze with a werewolf on her heels.
And I was so stupid to run after her. If I entered, there was no guarantee I’d find my way out.
Knowing Rasimir, the maze wasn’t a harmless diversion for bored courtiers.
The Drachvi had traveled through it the night of the ball.
Who knew where it led? The hedges probably teemed with traps and horrors too terrible to contemplate. But I couldn’t abandon Delphine.
Tugging down my hood, I moved away from the merman and ventured a few steps into the maze.
A growl at my back made me whip around. A second werewolf stood on four legs in the shadow of the Drakhold, its bright yellow eyes fixed on me. Its lips peeled back from its jaws, which dripped long strings of saliva onto the stones beneath its claws.
My heart stuttered and then tripped over itself, my ragged breaths loud in my ears. The werewolf leaped forward, flying straight at me.
I turned and plunged into the maze, yanking up the hood as I ran. The wolf’s growls followed, along with the scrape of its claws against the courtyard’s stone. I feinted left and then ran right, following a long line of hedges.
My feet flew over the soft grass beneath me.
Growls and the thunder of heavy paws sounded at my back.
Ahead, the maze branched again. I took a hard left, then a right.
Foliage brushed my skin and tugged at my gown.
My hood started to slip, and I held it in place as I moved through the maze’s twists and turns, fear spurring me faster.
The next time the hedges branched, I stumbled into the gray temple I’d seen in my dreams.
Blue torchlights flickered as I staggered forward, just managing to keep my feet under me.
The veiled woman watched from her throne as I stopped, my chest heaving.
Her gray robes puddled at her feet. Magic hung around her, the air humming with undeniable power.
I was close enough to make out her features—or at least, I should have been.
But no matter how hard I strained, she remained just out of focus, as if I peered through a fog.
Every few seconds, parts of her face sharpened, giving me glimpses of a nose or a cheek or the curve of her lips.
Just as quickly, the impressions slipped away.
The werewolf stalked past me, its body turning transparent. Just as its fur swirled into smoke, it bowed to the woman and then disappeared. My chest tightened, fear pumping fast and hot through my veins.
Marrigan, the Devout Mother of the Crau Setra, stared me down, her gray eyes sharp through her veil.
The rest of her face remained blurry and indistinct, but her eyes were clear—and they pinned me in place.
Unlike the courtiers and guards I’d passed on my way out of the Drakhold, there was no question she saw me.
Apparently, the dragonstone gown was no match for her power.
And she wanted to kill me. She’d sent assassins.
“To test your father’s resolve,” she said, her voice carrying over the hiss of the torches. “If I wanted you dead, child, you and I would not be speaking.”
Fear slid down my spine. I hadn’t spoken out loud.
She’d read my mind. Something Lorcan had said flitted through my memory.
Only a handful of witches possess the gift of pulling thoughts from another’s head.
And it’s a heavy burden. Marrigan was a mind-keeper, the kind of witch Lorcan had said frequently went insane.
The Devout Mother’s lips curved behind her veil. “The dragon king says a lot of things he would dearly love to believe.”
“Dragon king?” I rasped.
Her gray eyes glittered. Gray, not silver. Marrigan’s eyes were nothing like Vander’s. His gleamed with life. With humor. Hers were flat and cold, like the sea I’d glimpsed when I claimed sezat .