Chapter 26
J A N E
G ently placing my hand on the rough wood, I hold my breath, angling my head slightly to hear better. The song of sirens is absolutely out there, and as I slowly peer through the window, I swear that rather than coming from the ocean, it’s coming from the jungle .
I know that’s not right . My stomach drops, like someone trying to outrun a tiger only to realize they’ve been hunted across an entire ocean.
How the fuck is he here? Already?
There’s no way this isn’t not Misery’s doing.
My feet are immobile, wanting to run to my father and demand he tell me everything . I want to know about Cypress, about what he really thinks—wait. That’s what I want; I want to make an informed decision.
Cypress is the opposite of clarity. I still can’t shake that it seems like I’m being tricked into this, that she’s leading me astray on purpose.
As if having someone tap on my shoulder, I sharply steal a glance at the hourglass; it’s over halfway filled. My heart races with anxiety. What if I choose not to go? Would Soren truly fall that easily to Misery?
No . Why am I even willing to risk that?Misery wants me .Clearly, he’s not going to kill me. Not right away.
Okay, what do I fear about going, other than the obvious?
I cant my head, as if conceding to a point; I fear that being taken means everyone here will overreact and suffer in an attempt to come for me.
Or that I’m being influenced by bravado and not logic.
The sand… make a decision.
“Okay,” I say to myself, my voice shaking. “Let’s just climb out the window. Start there.”
The idea of leaving without any note of explanation sounds like a terrible fate to deliver to my father or Soren; rushing over to the table, I find that it actually has a very worn quill and barely any ink left. On the back of a map I don’t bother to look at, I begin penning my farewell note.
At least this might give them some peace in knowing why I chose this.
Signing my name is… odd. Heavy. Like I just realized what I committed to. I glance down at my thigh, pulling out the rose dagger. I hold it in my hands, taking in the beautiful design.
He gave this to me thinking I’d be with them at all times, not taken.Like fucking hells I’ll let them lose this.They’ll strip it off me as soon as they’ve got ropes on my wrist, and probably toss it into the ocean.
No time to look at it any longer.
I place it beside the note, repositioning it a few times, wondering if I should add anything about why I’m leaving the blade. But it seems obvious, especially since I asked about it already.
The singing grows louder.
I feel rushed, like I need to evacuate but don’t have anything ready.
GO!
I rush to the window, climbing out as my knees scrape against the shanty until I’m dangling. I release my grip and land with ease, moving to the jungle almost right away.
The single action has my heart racing and breaking all at once, just like the letter. What if this doesn’t have a happy ending? What if I lose everyone? What if I never get to say goodbye?
Soren will be coming back to an empty room.
Fuck .
That hurts.
So then destroy them for doing this to everyone. This isn’t your doing.
I’m breathing rapidly, stopping just near the outline of the trees and underbrush, the ethereal music of the sirens making it seem like I’m hallucinating.
Glancing back at the shanty shows a bunch of guards lying on the ground. Fuck .
Something in that solidifies this for me. Those are my father’s men. My people, in one way or another. Even if they’re just temporarily incapacitated, they’re caught up in the whirlpool of my life.
Why the fuck would I let others sacrifice themselves to protect me like this? I’ll kill myself before Misery has a chance to actually use my body. And I know that if we all take him on, so many more will die. Especially if Cypress is right, and Misery is Soren’s true weakness.
I can get close, though. I will be close.
He needs me willing, right?
I’m not just some maiden who needs protection. I’m literally the daughter of a revered Zenith, with the skull tattoo on my own chest. This might be unfair, but it is what it is. Misery is hunting me, which means that at some point, we will clash.
I stare at the damp soil beneath my feet, then at the big leafy plants casting dark shadows without a care in the world.
“ My men have someone to think about when they die… I’d like that .”
I smile as tears blur my vision.
At least I have people to think about.
Go. It’s either you, or Soren. He cannot confront Misery, and if Cypress is right, then that god is in this jungle. Soren still has his sister to see. Don’t risk that.
Perhaps I’m an idiot, but the idea of that man dying for me threatens my sanity like nothing else ever has. Him not existing, on my behalf, feels like someone is genuinely ripping a part of my heart out.
I take a single step closer to the jungle, having to push a leaf the size of my arm out of the way, hardly blinking as I peer into the verdant underbrush. I knew how to numb it all in Coalfell, having learned the art of detachment among those coal miners.
I will do it here.
Stepping through the cracks of twigs underneath, I’m reminded why I hate the forests—so many things hide in here that I can’t see. At least in the streets, I know the nooks and crannies, and that my biggest threat is a human.
Every minute sound out here is so foreign to me, even the damn squirrels scraping their sharp claws on the bark. That’s not even addressing the many weird noises coming from the canopies, or the echoing hoots and animal sounds along the branches.
I’ve never heard so much life yet felt so alone.
My body freezes mid-movement, even my fingers that are stuck in a partial grasp of a branch I was reaching for—there are people up ahead, all silent and looking around. Dressed in leathers, weapons, and cotton tunics.
I immediately recognize Blackwell among them.
Oh that fucker , I want to rush over there and stab him in the eyes for killing Maryanne.
But there’s a hooded figure among them, who is facing me, and he makes every ounce of my blood run cold. The sound of sirens emanates from that circle-–with absolutely no sirens present—the singing dying down until there’s nothing left but the jungle’s ambiance.
I consider bolting back, calling for Cypress before bringing Dad or Soren into this. At the same time, if there are things Cypress can do that not even Soren or my father can fight, what would challenging Misery be like for them? What could he do?
He’s fucking staring right at me.
I glare at the nearly black void that he creates, as if the sun avoids touching him, those orange circles clearly his eyes.
One by one, the others all turn to face me. Blackwell has a primal look on his ugly face. “Ah, well, she seems to have listened to the siren’s singing.”
I lick my lips, tasting salt and dirt. Bitterness creeps up my throat as if I ate a rotten apple, but I move forward nonetheless. It’s not as terrifying to be upon them as I thought it would be; it just feels like fate.
Like we all knew this would happen.
“I hear you want me,” I state.
The hood gives a single nod, creepy dark fingers tightening their grip on the wooden staff he holds. It’s almost uncomfortable to look at the gnarled heartwood, like the thing gives off a manifestation of sorrow and despair.
I observe it, forcing myself to learnas many details as possible—what looks like old runes are carved into the black stained wood, and at its crown is a twisted knot that grips around what looks like a black stone the size of my fist; it reminds me of flint.
I decide then and there that I fucking hate anything related to the gods, or their magic. It doesn’t matter if they think our lives don’t matter; we do .
My mother did.
Soren’s sister does .
I take another step, this time with more confidence.
Blackwell nears me as well, rubbing his hands together, then looks at who has to be Misery. “Is she alone?” he asks.
“No,” the hooded figure croaks out, his voice emanating as if his mouth were the depths of a cave that his words echo from. I fail to hide my disgust at the thought of him skinning me alive to use my flesh to don anything that remotely resembles humanity.
Then it sinks in.
I’m not alone?
My heart drops, and I turn around, skimming for the forests. I don’t even care if I give them my back or vulnerability.
Who is it?
There’s a scuffle a few feet over in the underbrush, and I see some men stand and skirmish as another—female?—lets out a muffled grunt. Then, the men start dragging someone into the woods.
These seconds are painfully long as I wait to see who they pull through… Anya.
No .
Does that mean that Soren is nearby? If he is, there’s no reality where he wouldn’t barrel through these woods to help—I’m about to scream, but that’s when I’m tackled like when I first met the Zenith; my body hits the ground so hard I scrape the dirt with my teeth, the air in my lungs expelled from the weight of whoever is on top of me.
My instincts scream to fight back, to kick. To curse at them as if it’s the only words I know. As I struggle while they bind my hands with rope, I can tell I’ve changed.
I already know how I will play this one.
I let them bind me how they see fit. Let them think that they have the upper hand. I learned a lot when being Soren’s little pet, and now I know how to truly submit—there’s no threat of saving lives now. If anything, submission will save lives.
So I can burn it.
Burn them all.
I hear someone near me, I can sense him, too. Dirty, worn boots are in my peripheral while someone continues to pin me down. A tattered cloak enters my vision, the energy from him emanating in ways that make Cypress look like a child playing at gods.
“Cypress has meddled with her,” he states, his staff shifting its imprint in the ground.
“How?”Blackwell asks.
“I cannot feel her.”
His staff lifts and presses against my cheek to hold my face into the dirt floor. I almost want to laugh at how utterly unafraid I am to die. There’s a sense of being whole now, knowing my father is still out there, and that he didn’t abandon me. That Kathleen is my friend, and that Soren showed me I can love myself and the violence within.
“What did she do to you?” he asks.
“I’m not answering that,” I reply.
Anya is chucked to my side, grunting through the cloth tied around her mouth.
“Antony, examine what is at her neck. Something that doesn’t belong to her is there. There area is stained with poison.”
The sound of someone nearing me precedes the sudden sensation of being touched, and I hate myself for flinching when he does. “There’s a lump. Something hard in there.”
“Answer me,” Misery grates. “Or we will force-feed your friend’s heart to you as it still beats.”
“There’s a ruby in there,” I admit without hesitation. “If you take it out, Cypress said it would kill me. Instantly. So… please don’t.”
Everyone is so still they might as well be statues, until Misery’s staff is lifted off my cheek. “Turn her over,” the god commands.
I’m violently flipped over by what appears to be Blackwell. Misery peers down at me, my eyes widening in absolute terror when I meet his gaze this close.
I can’t see anything other than two tiny glowing circles, the color of a burning sunset. “Your lover is an offshoot of the powers I harbor,” he says, lowering his head. “Of the powers I give . He’s a bastardization of my magic but, admittedly, talented. Just like Cypress is to her god. Whatever she has done to you, I will undo. And Soren cannot save you. Not with me around.”
I’m honestly terrified looking at him, nearly wincing when I swear I see the outline of his face. But the thought of what he has planned for me makes me fight. I don’t respond and simply stare him down. Get used to him.
Blackwell asks, “ You’re the god that gives Soren his powers?” His voice is full of absolute awe, almost like he learned the funniest thing about someone.
Well, it seems Cypress wasn’t lying about that.
“I was ,” Misery answers. “In this mortal state of mine, his powers will take on a mind of their own.” The staff hits the ground near my head, and I flinch. “Render her and the other incapacitated. I want to move quickly. We will examine what Cypress has put into her skin when she is unconscious.”
“There’s no need?—”
It’s all black.