Chapter 22 #2
She sat curled on the bed, trying to think of another escape plan, but her mind refused to settle. Her stomach turned at the memory of the throne room, of the corpses nailed to the walls, and the thousands of eyes watching her like carrion beasts.
Shadow Queen.
She gritted her teeth. She was no queen, but a prisoner dressed in silk.
A soft meow came, and she smiled with relief when Nexus came out from beneath the bed.
“There you are!” Alora scooped him up onto her chest. “You disappeared earlier. I was worried.”
The little creature purred as she scratched behind his ears. “Where did you run off to?”
A knock rattled the door.
“Your Majesty,” came a deep gravelly voice. One she had not heard before. “May I come in?”
Her pulse skipped but she already knew who it was. She quickly tucked Nexus back under the bed. “You may enter.”
The wall groaned and split open, shadows parting as a figure filled the doorway.
She caught her breath. He was enormous, tall enough that his horns brushed the stone lintel as he stepped inside.
His skin was bronzed and warm-toned, a stark contrast to the pale white hair falling loose across his shoulders.
Heavy, ridged horns curved back from his brow, dark and sharp as black kyanite.
He made no attempt to menace her, yet his sheer size and presence pressed the air from the chamber.
Hadeon.
Without a word, the large, muscular demon reached behind him. Alora blinked as he caught Deimos by the scruff and set him down firmly on the chair beside her bed.
“My watch is finished,” Hadeon rumbled, voice like stone grinding against stone. “This one will take my place. He shall guard your door and see to your every wish.”
The last words struck like a hammer, his glowing eyes narrowing on Deimos in warning.
“Abyss take me.” Deimos muttered under his breath, tail lashing angrily.
Hadeon’s lip curled faintly, whether amusement or threat, Alora couldn’t tell. He inclined his head to her, a motion surprisingly formal for such a creature, then turned. As he passed back through the wall, the stone sealed in his wake, solid as if it had never opened.
A drag of silence followed.
The spy glowered at her.
Alora cleared her throat. “I take it this is the first time you’ve been put on security detail?”
He ignored her comment and tossed another burlap onto her table. “More sustenance. Dried meat this time. Berries and turnips, since Calla whined you would sicken without it.”
Alora rose, smoothing her skirts. “Thank you. I am most grateful.”
Tsking, he flopped into a chair and draped his limbs over the arms like a sullen beast. The end of his tail flicked back and forth irately.
“Do not thank me. I am a Harbinger, not a servant at your call.”
Alora couldn’t help hiding a smile.
She liked him, despite herself. Deimos was the first not to treat her as anything but herself, even if she was an inconvenience. He reminded her of Bramble.
Withdrawn, short tempered, and annoyed by her presence.
Alora tilted her head, studying him. “What is a Harbinger, exactly? Rune called you generals.”
A sharp grin tugged at his mouth, revealing a hint of fang. “Generals,” he scoffed. “That is the word he uses for your benefit, little queen, so your mortal tongue may grasp some shred of meaning. We are far more than that.”
Deimos leaned back, stretching his clawed fingers as though savoring the chance to enlighten her.
“We do not merely fight at his side. We command, we keep order, we enforce law when his gaze is elsewhere. Calla tends to matters of diplomacy among the factions. Hadeon is the hammer and shield, the wall between our sire and any who would strike him. And I…” His eyes gleamed, scarlet and tricksy.
“I move where others cannot. I silence those who speak against him and gather secrets others attempt to hide. We are the true pillars of Rune’s rule, and without us, his court would crumble into chaos. ”
The pride in his voice was unmistakable, the arrogance thick as smoke. But then Deimos caught himself and his grin faded as he glanced at the wall where the door had been.
Alora was tempted to press but she had learned enough. The Harbingers weren’t merely soldiers. They were the bones of Rune’s power, and the whips that kept the Court of Sin and Ruin in line.
And Rune trusted them fully, enough to allow them in her presence.
“What of the others?” she asked next. “The ones who sat apart in the balcony. Who are they?”
For once, Deimos’s arrogance faltered. His mouth thinned, and his tail gave a sharp lash against the stone floor. “Seven Hells,” he cursed under his breath.
Alora waited patiently, sensing they were important.
“They are the Dominions,” Deimos said at last. “Princes of the Dark some call them. They are Lords who rule the seven factions within the Netherworld.”
She raised her brows, intrigued by this new information.
“That is all I will tell you.”
Alora frowned. “You were so eager to boast a moment ago. Can I at least know what they are called?”
Deimos leaned forward, eyes gleaming with a hard edge. “We do not speak their names,” he hissed. “Not unless you wish to summon them into this chamber.”
A shiver crawled up her spine. He wasn’t mocking now. He was afraid. The mountain stirred faintly at his warning, as if listening. If a Harbinger feared them, then the Dominions were something far worse.
Alora glanced around the chamber, at the moss-covered walls, the stone that shifted to her will. “This place,” she murmured. “It listens. Moves when I ask it. What is it? A prison? A beast?”
Deimos tsked, relaxing now that she’d changed the subject. “You really do not know, do you?”
“Know what?”
His smile revealed small fangs. “Karag D?r is no mere castle, Queen. It is a segment of my sire’s consciousness. You walk in the mind of a god. Even though it does occasionally act of its own accord, every stone, every shadow is him.”
Alora’s breath stilled.
He leaned forward, voice dropping. “So be wary of what you ask, even in your mind. For the mountain hears. And it always obeys him first.”
Her throat tightened. So the mountain was not her ally at all, but an extension of him. Every door that opened, every path revealed, every hidden chamber… had been his will. His thoughts wrapped in stone.
That was why the Gate had sealed before her eyes. Not the mountain. It was Rune who hadn’t wanted her to see it.
Her mind flickered back to the garden cavern, to the sunlight, the flowering bushes, and the sapling that had reached for her hand. That had been him too. Rune’s consciousness shaping beauty out of shadow.
A gift. A kindness.
But Alora’s jaw clenched, her cheeks burning. She could not let herself be fooled by pretty illusions. He had given her a garden with one hand while shackling her with the other. Even his “kindness” was a cage.
One she still needed to find a way out of.
She eyed her reluctant guard, sulking in the chair. He wanted out and she needed him out of her way, too.
“Then perhaps you could do something else for me. A true task that does not require fetching fruit.”
His eyes narrowed, suspicion flaring.
“I want news of Argyle and the state it’s in. Of… Theia, and Caelum. My friends. Will you look for them?”
Deimos’s expression flickered with irritation. “You ask much. Why should I waste my stealth spying on mortals who mean nothing to us?”
“Because they mean something to me.” she said, sharpening her tone. “Hadeon told you to grant my every wish. And I wish to know if my friends are alive.”
He bared his fangs in a snarl.
“You serve your king, do you not? And he has named me queen. If that title is worth anything, then I command it.”
“You think to command me?” A low growl rolled in his throat, his eyes gleaming like coals, but he didn’t refuse her.
He only looked away, as if the demand pricked some unwanted nerve.
Alora sighed. “Deimos, I cannot leave this room, and you would rather pick out your eyes than guard my door, right?”
His jaw ticked once, betraying thought. She could almost hear the battle between pride and duty. That long tail lashed against the floor with a sharp snap.
“Clever,” Deimos muttered, voice dripping with disdain. His claws tapped the armrest in an pensive rhythm before he finally pushed to his feet with a huff. “Very well. I will go. Perhaps I’ll kill them myself if Calveron has not.”
A mild threat. Still, Alora caught the flicker of relief in his posture, the way his limbs twitched with eagerness at the thought of leaving.
He wanted out. And she had given him the excuse.
Deimos stalked toward the wall, his form already unraveling into shadow. “Pray your little friends are not already carrion,” he said with a wicked smile, “for I cannot promise to return with good news.”
Then he vanished, wisps of smoke curling in his wake.
Alora exhaled. For the moment, at least, she was alone again. Free to test the mountain’s paths without the Harbinger hovering.
Standing, Alora pressed her hand against the wall. It was warm, alive, and listening.
It obeys him first.
Her throat tightened. If she begged for freedom, the mountain would shut her in tighter. If she asked for escape, it would smother her hope with stone. But there was one thing Rune might not deny her.
Himself.
She lifted her gaze to the ceiling. “May I see him?”
For a breath the mountain was still. Then it groaned, the wall parting as torches lit one by one, revealing a new path.