Chapter 16 Reyla
Reyla
Asecond attack never came.
Somehow, that felt worse. I still sensed her watching from beyond the tree line, patient and predatory, wanting us to feel her presence. Her signature malice hung in the air like the scent of a rotting carcass.
We kept our weapons in hand and dismissed our guards.
Lore and I left their carriage to wait.
A short time later, Dorion arrived in disguise, which was jarring at first. He wore “his” long blond hair in a queue, which did nothing for his pinched features and portly belly.
He was about my height, and I wasn’t tall for a woman.
He handed us the small pouch with my ladies’ rings and followed us over to their carriage.
While I gave them to Moira and Calista, he poked his head inside, grinning. His smile faded, and he tilted his head, studying them both.
Back outside, he mounted his horse to ride beside us, his hair gleaming in the sunlight.
Many would call the real Dorion devastatingly handsome, and his sly charm only made him more appealing.
Now, masked as Lord Vikire, he was rather plain, with a sallow complexion and a foppish manner.
But how we looked didn’t matter. Getting the talisman did.
My ladies slipped their rings on their fingers.
Fearing the curse would make them forget, we hadn’t named Prager, just told them to be wary of everyone, that someone at Irridain might harm us.
It was the simplest explanation, and they accepted it with ease.
They were well-versed in court politics and knew Evergorne and Irridain were anything but allies.
Climbing back into our vehicle, we continued traveling, reaching the gates of Irridain Court at dusk. The pale blue stone walls of the castle perched on a steep hillside in the distance made the structure look like it was coated in frost.
Our zephyl came to a stop at the gate, though the portcullis had already been lifted. Dorion dismounted and came over to stand near our carriage door, a bland expression on his borrowed face.
A lone guard opened the door to our vehicle and peered inside. Tall, his armor gleamed, without a smudge or scratch on it.
My ladies left their carriage and joined us in ours, Calista fluffing my skirt while Moira plucked at random strands of my hair, tucking them back into place.
Lore identified me, Dorion, and himself, using our fake names. I gave the man a curt nod but said nothing. Dorion grunted. Lore didn’t introduce my ladies, since that wasn’t done—not here, that is.
The man’s gaze skimmed over us, and with a twist of his thin lips, he inclined his head. “Lord Rutherford, Lady Rutherford, Lord Vikire. You’re late.”
Lore stared down his nose at the man. I took the cue from him and sniffed to give the impression that he was too beneath us even to notice.
“We were accosted on our way here, sir,” Calista said in that sharp tone that made almost everyone around her jump.
It made me glad she was with us. There was something to be said for letting servants handle things like this when we needed to make a certain impression.
“Perhaps you should be patrolling the surrounding countryside rather than questioning those above your station.”
His attention shifted to Farris, his lips curling with distaste. “Why is there a wild animal in your vehicle?”
“My pet.” I stroked the nyxin's head. “Touch him and die.”
“Wouldn't dream of touching something so filthy.” His sneer deepened. “Everyone walks from here. Servants and belongings will be taken through a different entrance.”
“Oh, we…” Moira nudged her mother.
“Lady Rutherford needs us to travel with her,” Calista said stiffly.
“Servants and belongings will be taken through a different entrance, and your carriages will be taken to the stable,” he snarled.
I’ll release the zephyls and send them back to Evergorne, Lore said in my mind. We’ll flit from here once we have the talisman.
I blinked to show him I understood.
“The stinking nyxin remains with the ladies,” the guard added. “It's not allowed on the lower grounds.”
Farris snapped at him, sending the man stumbling backward.
“My pet travels with me.” Ice coated my words. “No arguments.”
“Suit yourself. If something happens to it, don't blame me.”
Wind whipped through the open door as Lore's power stirred. The man's face went pale.
“You’ll speak to Lady Rutherford with respect or you won’t speak to her at all,” Lore growled. A flick of his finger and wind hit the man, making him fall back on his ass. As he rose, fear flashed across his face. “Disembark…my lord. Her ladyship.” He gave a deep bow.
Continuing with our ruse, I turned to Calista and Moira.
“I’ll see you in our rooms, ladies. Please unpack my possessions and ensure any wrinkles are smoothed from my gowns before you hang them.
Inventory my jewelry, if you please. Be aware I will inspect everything when I arrive and if anything is missing… ”
“We need to go with you.” Moira’s low growl rang out, but she softened her features, sliding into her new role. “Of course, Lady Bliss. We’ll ensure everything is arranged to your satisfaction.”
We stepped from the carriage, Farris leaping out along with us. My boots struck the gravel, the sharp clicks echoing in the dense forest around us.
Lore offered me his arm, and I fitted my fingers into the crook of his elbow, feeling the heat of his skin through his sleeve.
He looked every bit a noble, though the dark edge in his eyes told a truer story.
That edge promised violence to anyone who threatened what was his.
The possessive heat in his gaze when it settled on me sent warmth spiraling through our bond.
For all the plainness of Dorion’s disguise, he carried himself like a man who'd never once worried about losing his life. I envied how he could project that impression despite how he might be feeling inside. I could only hope to do the same.
Farris trotted at my side as we approached the portcullis and stepped through, into a gloomy garden speckled with flowerbeds and statues. Thin, creeping vines snaking over the pale marble figures and wrapped around trees in gray spirals.
“Remain on the path. You’ll come to the entrance at the top.” The man gestured to a stone walkway lined with trimmed hedges. It wound upward around the steep hill, leading to the castle perched at its summit like a pale blue bird of prey.
It was beautiful, but it felt odd. I wasn’t sure how to describe it other than that.
The air shifted as we passed under the stone archway.
No insects buzzed. No birds called. Great, great. What was it with the birds lately?
Even our footfalls faded, swallowed by moss and silence. The garden didn’t just muffle sound, it seemed to feed on it.
Farris froze, whining, his tail spiking out behind him, but for now, I didn’t see anything we might need to defend ourselves against. No harm in keeping my blades handy, however.
I released Lore’s arm and drew them, watching as he did the same.
Only Dorion remained unarmed, though he wore a decent-looking dagger strapped to his side.
The path carved its way through arbors choked with flowering vines.
Pale and sweet-smelling, the blossoms drooped unnaturally.
The petals had browned at the edges as if they were dying mid-bloom.
Some statues stood beneath taller vegetation, while others had been placed out in the open or tucked into stone alcoves.
Still others had been set near fountains with dry, cracked bowls.
It didn’t look like water had flowed within them for years.
The figures appeared artfully arranged at first. Then I saw their faces.
Too twisted. Too real.
One man clutched his throat, his mouth frozen mid-scream. A woman reached toward the sky, terror etched in every line of her body. Their eyes gleamed with unnatural moisture, as if tears had just dried. As if they were still alive inside the stone.
My skin recoiled.
Another man cowered, curled in on himself, as if he was expecting a blow. He wore trousers, boots. A simple tunic, and he held a pin in his fingers in red and silver, the twin dragons of Evergorne circling each other in eternal watch.
Lore saw it too and stopped.
“Don’t react,” he said under his breath, speaking aloud for Dorion’s benefit.
The other man grunted.
Do you recognize him? I asked Lore.
He studied the poor man. I sent him on a scouting mission. When he didn’t come back, I thought borgons had taken him.
A shudder jerked through me. Was he still alive inside, watching us like we watched him?
This could be my imagination, but I’d swear his eyes followed us as we moved.
“Fuck,” Dorion muttered, the word echoed by Farris’s whine.
The garden closed in around us, trees swaying down lower and vines skittering across the ground as if shoved by wind I did not feel. In fact, it was utterly, horrifyingly, still here.
The air grew heavy, clogged with the sickly sweet scent of flowers.
When a vine snapped toward us, Lore sent a spear of ice its way, locking it in place. It shriveled before turning gray, only to rejuvenate in a murky shade of swamp green.
We picked up our pace, Farris trotting a few steps ahead only to peer back at us over his shoulder with urgency in his expression. His tail remained spiked out behind him and the fur on his back stuck up in all directions.
Every turn of the path revealed more stone statues, more faces frozen in pain and fear.
“What a way to greet guests,” I huffed.
Dorion snorted.
Lore lifted his hand and traced a symbol in the air. A shimmering ward arched around us. “It won’t make us invisible, but it’ll keep our voices inside.”
“They can still watch.” I could feel them.
“They have been for some time.” Likely from the moment our vehicles pulled onto Irridain land.
We rounded another bend. At the far edge of the garden, before the hill road began its climb, a final statue had been placed apart from the others.
The woman stood upright, one hand raised, her fingers curled as if she’d once held something that was now gone. Her hair had been sculpted in an intricate arrangement on the top of her head, and her cloak had frozen in a billow behind her. Her head hung, however, shadowing her face.
Lore’s gaze flicked from the statue to the nearest vine that hissed and snapped away the moment his eyes fell on it. The other vine may have recovered from Lore’s freezing touch, but they didn’t like it and were wisely wary.
Farris trotted over to sniff the woman’s feet. He sat and looked up at her, releasing a low howl.
I didn’t know why I did it, but I left the path and walked over to look up at the woman.
A guttural groan sliced up my throat, and I reeled backward.
Lore flitted to me and snatched me up, moving us both back onto the path. He held me tight, staring down into my eyes.
“Don't look.” The words tore from my chest.
Lore was already moving, flitting to the figure with deadly grace. The sound that ripped from him when he saw her face was pure anguish wrapped in fury.
He returned to us, his jaw clenched so tight I could hear his teeth grinding.
“His mother,” I whispered to Dorion's questioning look.
His expression darkened with understanding.
“A grief wraith, then. Perhaps all of them.
The spell feeds on recent loss, reshaping the stone to mirror whoever you've mourned most deeply.” His voice dropped to a bare whisper.
“Cruel magic. It doesn't know who you are, only that you're bleeding inside.”
He raised his hand, and fire erupted from his palm in a controlled blaze, engulfing the figure. Stone hissed and cracked under the heat. When the flames died back, a stranger's face stared back at us, its unremarkable features carved into something almost pleasant to look at.
“Better,” Dorion muttered, lowering his hand.
We continued past her, but I felt those new eyes tracking our movement, boring into our backs as we climbed toward the castle gates.
Farris scooted in behind us to keep up, his tail between his legs.
The road stretched out ahead. As we walked along it, gravel shifted beneath our boots. Dorion fell back, pretending he was tired but to keep an eye on our flank.
Above, the castle loomed, its towers jagged and less ornamental than Evergorne’s. Though the walls shimmered, they looked stark. Cold. Terrifying, actually.
This was no sanctuary. It was a trap, and we were walking straight into it.
As we approached the castle gates, they swung open with a grinding shriek.
No guards appeared. Just yawning darkness and the sound of our footsteps echoing off stone.
The grief wraiths had been the beginning, but now the real test was about to begin.
Somewhere in the darkness, Prager was waiting, and I was confident she’d have something special planned.
The silence felt hungry.
Like it was feeding on our footsteps, our breath, our fear.