Chapter 11 #2
Lyric’s pulse skipped. She couldn’t refuse.
It would be weird. She and Cassia had always had a good relationship.
They weren’t best friends, but Lyric had always trusted her because Athena did.
She looked at Cassia’s eyes, trying to search for anything that would give away some sort of treachery.
She only saw concern. By the gods wouldn’t it be good to have someone to trust?
she asked herself. Nico was MIA and Roan would be her second choice of shaman to trust, but she was out of luck there as well.
What choice did she have? Cassia might be able to help her work through the confusion that filled Lyric’s mind and confirm that there was no way their king and queen would be involved in something so awful.
“Of course,” she said, forcing a smile. “Lead the way.”
They walked in silence for several minutes, Cassia guiding them away from the exits and deeper into the heart of the palace, toward the older, unused corridors. The air grew colder, the lanterns more sparse. Lyric’s unease grew with every step.
Cassia broke the silence, her voice soft.
“I’m going to take a guess and say tonight isn’t the first night you’ve had trouble sleeping.
You’ve been restless for days, Lyric. I’ve heard about the missing shaman and his human companion.
I imagine that is upsetting for you, and could be contributing to the bad feeling. ”
Lyric kept her eyes forward. This was it. She was going to step out on faith and let the chips fall. She needed to trust someone. “There’s something wrong with the palace magic. I can feel it in the walls. It started after Maddie and Roan disappeared. Have you noticed? Is that what is off to you?”
Cassia hummed. “I’ve noticed the queen is anxious. That could cause the magic to be off. But the stress of the situation could be causing your own power to be agitated.”
Lyric glanced at her. “Perhaps. But I don’t think so. There’s a thread of . . . something. Like a web being drawn tighter.”
Cassia smiled, her teeth very white. “You’ve always been sensitive to such things. It’s why Athena has always trusted you so much.”
They turned a corner, and Lyric realized Cassia was leading her not to the gardens, but to the old storage tunnels beneath the mansion. She stopped, suddenly wary.
“I don’t think we should go any further. The wards here are old—unstable.”
Cassia’s smile widened. “That’s exactly why I wanted you to see them.”
Before Lyric could react, Cassia’s hand flashed out, impossibly fast. Magic shimmered in the air, sticky and suffocating. Lyric tried to call her own power, but the webbing was everywhere—clinging, binding, burning her skin with venom.
She struggled, but Cassia had caught her by surprise, and she was strong, her magic centuries old. Lyric could feel power honed by grief and rage flowing through the web. Lyric’s head spun, her vision narrowing, her limbs growing heavy as the venom took hold.
Cassia leaned close, her breath warm against Lyric’s ear.
“I’m sorry, old friend. But you’re too clever for your own good.”
Lyric tried to speak, but her tongue was leaden. She felt herself being dragged, her body limp, her mind swirling in darkness.
Her last conscious thought was of Athena—alone, betrayed, and in mortal danger.
Cassia worked quickly. She dragged Lyric’s cocooned form into the deepest tunnels, where the air was thick with old webs and older magic, shoving her through the wards and webs in with the two other prisoners.
Then she dug through the bag Lyric had been carrying.
“Reading my ass,” she muttered as she found what she’d hoped was inside.
Cassia checked the phone. There were two unsent messages to Nico, one with photos of the ledger.
Cassia deleted them, her hands steady, her expression calm.
She typed a quick message to Nico, mimicking Lyric’s clipped tone: Change of plans. Can’t make it to the airport. Too risky. I am shocked, but the evidence speaks for itself. The king and queen of KOS cannot be permitted to stay in power. I’ll be in touch.
She tucked the phone into her own pocket and turned to the ritual chamber, where Mei and Neru were waiting.
“It’s done,” she said softly. “Prepare everything. We will need Roan at full power, as well as Lyric. So reinforce the web, but do not use any more venom, and make the wards stronger. We begin at dusk tomorrow. That will give Nico enough time to inform the shaman council of Athena and Aurelius’s treachery.
And right before we start the transition, we can get Roan’s shirt, which I can then turn into the council when they come to do a full investigation, implicating the royals in Roan’s disappearance as well.
” Cassia sighed, suddenly feeling very tired. “I’m ready for this to be done.”
She found Dax at the entrance to the prisoners’ cell, his face pale. He looked at her, searching her eyes for any sign of doubt.
“You’re sure you want to do this?” he whispered. “Not the animus part. That is non-negotiable. But setting up Athena for a death sentence? She was your friend, Cass.”
Cassia’s jaw tightened. “She was. But she’s not anymore. Not after the pain I suffered because of what they took from me. I have been playing a role for centuries, biding my time. And now it’s here.”
Dax nodded, silent. Cassia turned away, her heart a knot of grief and rage.
The cell was cold—bone-deep, teeth-chattering cold.
The air was thick and musty, each breath scraping like sandpaper and never quite full enough to satisfy her lungs.
Lyric drifted awake by slow, miserable degrees, her body heavy, mind foggy, as if she’d been swimming in syrup and lost the will to reach the surface.
She tried to move, but her limbs were locked down in sticky webbing, the skin beneath burning with the telltale tingle of venom.
Her mouth was impossibly dry, every swallow sharp as if she were downing gravel for her meal.
She forced her eyes open, blinking away the haze, and took in her surroundings.
The cell was little more than a shallow alcove carved from the stone, the floor and walls layered in silk so thick it almost looked like snowdrifts.
Lyric herself was cocooned upright against one wall, arms pinned tight at her sides, legs immobilized.
As she turned her head further to the right she saw a large form wrapped in more webbing.
And the little bit of the side of a face she could see was Roan.
He was cocooned tightly in silk, slumped protectively around a much smaller form.
His breathing was shallow, but even in the gloom, Lyric could see his jaw flex with stubbornness.
“Roan,” she croaked, voice rough. “You alive, you stubborn brute?” He didn’t stir so she tried again. “Roan,” Lyric snapped. “Wake up you lazy, waste of shaman space and explain how the hell you managed to get yourself captured.”
His eyes fluttered, focusing on her slowly, like he was fighting through a nightmare to reach the waking world. “Lyr-ic?” The word was sluggish, thick with exhaustion and something else—something unnatural.
She exhaled in relief. “Yeah, it’s me. You look like hell.”
A hoarse, humorless chuckle. “Feel worse.”
Lyric’s gaze swept over him, taking in the unnatural pallor, the sweat on his brow, the way his head seemed too heavy even for his broad frame. “That’s venom in the webbing, and some wards. Cassia’s got us wrapped up like leftovers. Have you been down here since the day you texted me?”
“Yes, though I don’t know how many days that has been.
” His gaze flickered to the figure bundled in with him.
“People keep coming and checking on us. Making us drink something—sweet. It’s just enough to keep us somewhat nourished.
” He shook his head, as if to clear it. “Cassia? As in the queen’s advisor? ”
Lyric’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, the one and only, and she’s feeding you spider venom.
It is just enough to keep you nourished, yes, but more importantly, subdued and sedated.
And you’ve been down here for going on five days.
Roan, is that Maddie?” She tilted her head towards the smaller form wrapped against him.
The person in question stirred, attempting to shift in the webbing, but was only able to turn her head.
For the first time, Lyric got a proper look—at the young woman, maybe twenty, the small amount of hair that stuck out from the spider silk was tangled, while wide, wary eyes peeked out from Roan’s protective bulk.
Roan’s expression changed, a flutter of possessiveness flashing through the haze. He angled his head down slightly as if to shield the girl—from her?
Lyric arched a brow. “Well? Since when do you play bodyguard to humans, especially non-animi?”
Roan tried to clear his throat, but it came out as a cough. “To answer your first question, yes, this is Maddie. I was bringing her to you.”
“And the second?”
“None of your business,” he grumbled.
“When are you ever going to learn to be nice?” Maddie asked, her glare disapproving.
Roan’s voice softened a little as he responded. “I can only be nice once a day. I’ve already been nice to you. Quota met.”
Despite their circumstances, Lyric found herself smiling a bit. She’d never seen Roan act this way with anyone. Lyric felt her suspicion spike, blending with curiosity. “You brought her to me? Why?”
Maddie was the one who answered. “He said I’d feel safer with you because you’re a woman. He obviously doesn’t know how catty women can be.”
Lyric blinked, surprised by the slight teasing of the female, and the way she stood up to Roan. He was an intimidating male, not to mention kind of an ass. She studied Maddie, then glanced at Roan. “You want to explain what’s going on, Roan? Or do I get to guess?”
Roan winced, and for a moment Lyric saw just how much effort it cost him to stay conscious. “She’s a shaman, Lyric. A Nushawani.”