Chapter 7 No One Is Coming
NO ONE IS COMING
A dull ache pounded behind my eyes. I lifted my head, and the world tilted.
Rheya.
I jerked upright. “Rheya!”
Everything swam, forcing me to squeeze my eyes shut. I tried again, letting my vision adjust. Stone. Cold gray stone engraved with flowing lines that pulsed with blue light.
Where…?
My gaze followed the runes as they traced elegant patterns across arched doorways, their soft glow the only illumination.
The throbbing in my skull made it difficult, but I took in the towering shelves stretched toward a vaulted ceiling, the dark wood packed with books.
Rheya wasn’t here.
Was she alive? Drowned? Captured? The not knowing carved a hole in my chest.
I moved, my hands scraping against bristles. Hemp rope tied my wrists behind a chair. I pulled at the restraints, panic cutting through the fog.
Calm down. Think.
I stopped thrashing. My ankles were bound too, and sensation returned in painful tingles. The room came into sharper focus. Along the back wall, a desk sat beneath a mosaic of runes, their edges inlaid with gold. At its center blazed the symbol of the clergy.
I’m in the Arcanum.
All my life, I’d fantasized about sneaking into this forbidden place. Humans weren’t allowed in, not even to wipe the floors, and fae needed permission to access certain sections.
Footsteps echoed beyond the door. The rune above the handle flared white, and the lock released with a click.
Henrik burst through, the door slamming into the wall. Water dripped from his clothes, pooling at his feet. He tore off his sodden cloak and hurled it on the desk, scattering books to the floor. His silvery gaze locked on me like a blade drawn from its sheath.
“You wretch. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
My throat constricted.
“The storm gate,” he spat, stalking closer, each step leaving dark prints on the stone.
“Half the quarter is underwater. Shops, homes—ruined. Families wading through filth, goods floating down the canals.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a hiss.
“Three dead. Crushed when the embankment gave way.”
Three dead.
“Who?” The word ripped out of me. “Who died?”
Henrik’s smile was cruel. “Does it matter?”
“Tell me! Was one of them—”
“Your little sister?”
I couldn’t breathe. Three dead. Rheya had been in that water.
“Please. Is she alive?”
“She wasn’t among the bodies they’ve recovered.”
I sagged against my restraints.
Henrik dragged a chair across the floor. He planted it in front of me and sat, his damp knees brushing mine.
“Look at me.”
My attention fixed on the wall.
His hand shot out, clamping around my chin until I met his eyes. “How did you break that rune?”
I swallowed, refusing to answer.
“I know about the damaged runes,” he said, his grip tightening. “Heirlooms gone missing, protections collapsing overnight, and it all traces to you.”
My arms trembled.
“What the hell are you?” His breath seared against my skin. “How does a gutter-born human tear apart magic older than empires?”
He struck my cheek, the blow snapping my head sideways. White stars erupted in my vision.
Henrik wrenched my face back. “Are you part fae?”
I forced my gaze past his shoulder. Growing up, Rheya and I had asked ourselves that a hundred times, but our mother had died before we could learn the truth.
“You look human. Smell like one.” He leaned closer, his nostrils flaring. “But humans can’t wield magic, so what are you hiding?”
Silence stretched between us like a drawn bowstring.
Henrik released me with a shove. “That rune you destroyed should’ve held for another few years. What kind of monster have I been harboring?”
My blood turned to ice.
He fixed me with a cold stare. “I have all night, Aelie.”
His hand moved toward my temple. His fingers touched me, and agony exploded through my skull.
The scream that split from my throat didn’t sound human.
He ripped at my memories, prying them open like a locksmith. I slammed them closed, over and over—Rheya—focus on Rheya—her dark brown hair catching the sun, her laugh, the brass button she hid like treasure—
The magic clawed deeper, and I thrashed. I couldn’t feel my face. He forced his way past every barrier I erected, digging in my mind like ripping through pages in a book.
Henrik sucked in a sharp breath.
Vaeris.
A memory burst open—Vaeris bending me over a bed, my skirts torn. His mouth against my neck. My moans, my gasping pleas, the fevered arch of my hips as I begged him to go faster.
Stop!
Henrik watched, drinking in the sounds I’d made. My desperate movements. The most private moment of my life, laid bare for him to judge.
Henrik chuckled. “I should’ve known.”
The hazy gold of the memory dissolved into the gray of the Arcanum as Henrik lifted his palm.
I gasped, slumping against the restraints.
Henrik exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “At least this explains why the prince looked ready to murder me at dinner.”
I kept my eyes down, unable to meet his gaze. Shame bit into my cheeks. He’d seen how completely I’d given myself to someone who’d thrown me away.
Henrik leaned forward. “How long have you been fucking him? Is he aware of your nature?”
I pressed my lips together to keep them from quivering.
His eyes narrowed. “He knows, doesn’t he?”
“You’re—you’re making a mistake. He’ll come looking for me.”
Henrik laughed. “Will he?”
“He’s already angry with you. When he realizes I’m missing, he’ll connect it to you. And when he does…you know what happens to lords who cross the royals.”
Henrik smirked. “You think I’m stupid enough to make an enemy of the Crown? No, this is an opportunity.”
A bead of sweat rolled down my cheek.
“I’ll present you to the king as the abomination you are. The prince, devastated by your betrayal, has no choice but to let justice take its course. Unless…” He paused. “I could convince the High Cleric that you’re too valuable to kill.”
I squirmed in my restraints, my heart thrashing.
“He gets his toy back, properly leashed this time. I get the prince’s eternal gratitude. You’ll live as property of the Crown. Collared, watched, used at their whim.”
“No,” I gasped. “He wouldn’t do that to me.”
“I’ve served the royal family for two hundred years. I know exactly what a prince will sacrifice to keep his position.”
Grief swelled in my heart.
He was right, wasn’t he? Vaeris had kept me hidden, visited only in shadows, never once acknowledged what we were in public.
The door opened. Two Runecloaks entered.
“The High Cleric is asking to see you, my lord,” one said.
Henrik nodded. “Escort her to the palace dungeons.”
The Runecloaks moved toward me. The leaner male produced a knife and cut through the ropes binding my ankles, then my wrists. Blood rushed into my hands, pins and needles shooting up my arms. The Runecloak grabbed me and hauled me upright.
A crushing weight settled over my chest as we headed out. That desperate, pathetic part of me that had been hoping for Vaeris to rescue me finally went quiet.
No one was coming.
I’d have to save myself.