Chapter 10 #2
Then suddenly we were there. Two guards—one male, one female—surged to their feet. Garrick had his sword in hand again. My porcelain-shard knife was nowhere to be seen, but my power rose. I formed a dagger of ice in each palm.
A loud, otherworldly roar shook the thick door behind the two guards.
Garrick seized the opportunity to lunge forward, swiping his sword in a motion meant to send heads rolling.
The female guard parried, but she staggered under the force of his attack, and he caught her arm on the next upswing, easily severing her hand from her body, along with the axe it had held.
The other—the male—punched out a gust of wind.
I took a step back and braced myself, waiting for the next push of magic.
But it did not come. The fae were truly as depleted as the stories said.
I flicked my wrist, sending a dagger of ice flying toward his face.
He mustered just enough wind to knock it off course.
But he could not dodge the ice that I blasted across the floor, that climbed up his legs and froze him in place.
My power stuttered in my veins. Another fraction of control, and I’d freeze him cold enough to snap his body in half.
And I would fucking do it. Even a weak fae was culpable for the overreaching, selfish greed of his kind.
The guards were disabled. The only thing that remained was the door.
That great and terrible roar echoed again. I could hardly believe that it came from Isanara—my Isanara. She was an adolescent. And yet, on the other side of that door, I half-expected to find something else entirely.
I moved for the door, only for Garrick’s fingers to grab my upper arm and yank me back.
“Have you lost your mind—”
The door exploded outward, the metal sparking as it shredded into curled fragments until the remnants crumpled into a smoking heap.
Isanara stood over the remains, her pale skin glowing even in the nearly non-existent light, her claws tangled with the mass of shredded metal that had once been a door. She’d clawed her way out of her prison, and from the tilt of her head, she could not have been more pleased with herself.
My feet were already an eviscerated mess. What did it matter if I burned them on the scraps of metal? I was so desperate to touch her.
She shoved her head into my stomach, her curled horns snagging on the thin fabric of my shift. I savored the scrape of her rough horns and the ultra-smooth pattern of her scales beneath my fingers. Her tail wrapped around my ankle, claiming me. Reminding us both.
I pulled back enough to frame her face with my hands and stare down into her glowing citrine eyes. You could have gotten yourself free at any time.
Of course. But I would rather rot in this cell than leave you behind.
I was relatively certain the fae prince had been waiting for me outside of the bathhouse, which meant Maura had expected me to escape, as well. And I would never know if I could have bested the prince and his guard, because Garrick had shown up.
Did any of my victories actually belong to me?
Garrick knocked his fist against the wall. “Time is up,” he said.
That was not the sound of his fist, I realized. It was the pounding of footsteps overhead.
I did not need further convincing. I had my familiar.
It was time to get out of Balar Shan and put this wretched place firmly in the past. Once we were in the next temple, we’d be safe enough.
Even Maura and the fae king would not dare to enter.
And if they were waiting for us on the other side of the Peace Gate?
I shook my head hard enough that my neck cracked. A problem for later.
We retraced our steps back to the death-cell at the edge of the spiral-built palace.
Can you fly? I asked Isanara. She’d been in that cell for days, unable to work her wings.
Do not embarrass us both with stupid questions.
I leaned over the edge.
It was at least a hundred feet straight down into the icy depths of the Northern Death. I would not survive the fall. I’d never be able to control my power with enough nuance to master the waves. I’d turn the water that filled my lungs to ice and suffocate just the same.
But the palace was coated in ice, the bright colors of the spires overhead leached of life by the sheen of frost that covered everything.
Possibilities called to my power. A staircase of ice formed in my mind.
A whip of my hand, and it would be reality.
I’d have to climb up to the edge of the cliff.
It was a long way… hundreds of feet. But the other option was an upward climb in reverse of how Garrick and I had come down, but much higher and with fae guards in pursuit.
I lifted a hand, looking for steadiness. Garrick was there, but I reached for the wall instead.
For a brief moment, he let me see the disappointment in his eyes. Then he hid it away, the expert at dissembling.
“Go now,” he said. He wiped the blood on his greatsword against his pant leg and turned in the direction of the footsteps, ready to cover our retreat.
But he cast a glance over his shoulder—more than a glance.
A lingering look, pointed not at my hissing dragon or the howling water beyond, but at me.
There was something in the set of his shoulders, the resigned finality as he turned away…
He was not coming with us.
Good. He belongs here. It was not Isanara’s voice in my head, but my own. The dark, angry, broken parts. The parts that he had broken.
And still, for some reason I could not fathom, I opened my mouth and said, “A gate is always near. A god is always watching. They will not let you stay away from the Gates forever.”
The gods always demanded their due. When Nimra walked away from the Sacrifice Gate, it was only to face her own eventual death. It had been weeks. Surely she was dead already. Garrick had taken the same oath I had upon entering the temple at the Mercy Gate.
Why stay? My traitorous mind asked. Why do I care? My pain argued back
Garrick didn’t turn to look at me, but we were angled enough that I could see his little smirk. It seemed forced.
“Then let’s hope that you can get through the last two before the gods claim their due,” he said. “My mother is here. She is the reason I made the bargain. If I leave, he will punish her.”
He. The fae king. Garrick’s father. And his mother, the one who’d been raped by the king. She was the reason he’d made the bargain. The bargain. The one that had made him betray me.
I’d betrayed my coven to save Kyrelle, my sister’s last living descendant in Velora. How was that different?
Because it fucking was. And if it wasn’t…
this was not the time to sort that out. I had to get out of Balar Shan.
Everything else could wait. Garrick could stay here and rot, groveling on his knees before his father and Maura.
I was going back to the Seven Gates with my familiar.
I shivered at the cold that swept in from the open cell-wall, reminding me where my path lay.
“Or you could stay.”
His voice held whispers of silk and screams of pain. It should have repulsed me, but instead I recognized it. Something inside of me sprang to life at its sound. My anger ate that something alive.
“You,” I snarled. “I told you to get out of my mind.”
The Dark God laughed easily, as if I was not standing with an icy precipice on one side and my halfling ex-lover on the other.
He stepped out of a pocket of shadow over Garrick’s shoulder, dressed in all black finery, every angle of his tailored vest sharp, and the leather of his boots shiny. Darkness given shape.
He flicked his hand down at his front. “And here I am, respecting your wishes.”
“I did not call for you,” Garrick said through gritted teeth.
My gaze whipped between the two of them. They’d met before, I realized. Garrick glared at the Dark God, and he… just smiled like one of the feral felines that were rumored to haunt the mountains, vicious byproducts of millennia-old witch magic.
Not only had they met, but they’d also discussed me. The urge to flee was overwhelming—and perfectly aligned with my plans. I spun towards the door, Isanara moving with me in perfect harmony.
“Leaving now would be a mistake,” the Dark God said, in response to the thoughts I could not hide and only he could read.
“You are going to get her killed,” Garrick growled, stepping between us while also trying to keep his body angled toward the oncoming fae soldiers.
“Koryn, you cannot wait any longer. Parry and my brother are both strong. My magic will fade, and they will realize what I’ve done. They will come after you.”
The Dark God waved a dismissive hand. “And she will be ready to meet them.”
Garrick lifted his sword in a not-so-subtle gesture of aggression. But the Dark God just lifted his brows, as if daring Garrick to try. My Lifebind ground his jaw together. “Why did you send me to rescue her at all?”
“Send you?” I echoed.
“I never specified when or how she should leave the palace.” The Dark God shrugged, a stupid gesture that had no business looking so elegant on him.
“You only want to hasten her death so that you can claim her,” Garrick accused.
Is this really happening? They were bickering like prostitutes in the tavern over the last customer of the evening. Over me.
They finally recognize what I have always known. You are invaluable, Isanara said, tilting her head with that irritating adolescent pride that came from being right.
Some women would probably be flattered. I was incensed.
“I will decide my own fate,” I said. My power rolled through me, coalescing in my arms, reaching for my palms. It was close to breaking loose.
I’d direct that surge toward getting me out of this blasted castle.
“I am going back to the Gates. If Maura and the fae king want me—us,” I curved a hand around one of Isanara’s spikes, “here, then it is the last place I want to be.”