Chapter 16
Clearly, any chance of hiding my grave robbery from Cleodora failed, because she filled my mind with endless threats and gloating. Warning me not to enter the tomb at the bottom, promising eternal pain if I took anything from the sarcophagus.
No commands, not yet, but they would come.
“What sarcophagus?” I muttered as Valour padded down the stairs at my side. She filled the darkness with a rich blue glow so I didn’t go flying down the steps and break my neck, which was nice.
My boots scuffed raw stone when we reached the bottom, these steps not warped unlike the cellar of stars’ entrance, like no one had disturbed this place in centuries.
How did Gaia become a goddess? Who decided that a real person who lived and breathed centuries ago should be a goddess?
And, more importantly, how did I stop Cleodora becoming one, too?
Oh, Zaba, she murmured, almost sympathetic. These wild ideas you have.
I didn’t reply, just locked eyes with Valour when she glanced up, and then we stepped into the chamber at the bottom of the long staircase together.
“Oh,” I said. “That sarcophagus.”
The tomb at the bottom of the mausoleum was around the same size as the building above, square and deep, and full of piled silverware.
Swords, goblets, shields, helmets, and even a flail overflowed from stone shelves carved into the walls.
And in the middle, buried with all her riches, was Gaia’s sarcophagus.
Made of dark grey stone flecked with a turquoise-coloured stone—maybe even real turquoise, which made my eyes pop out—the solid base was as big as the carriage we travelled in, and on the heavy lid lay an intricately carved statue. Presumably, Gaia’s likeness.
On light feet, I approached the tomb, batting aside both spiderwebs and Cleodora’s taunting voice. I felt it again, like I had in the vision—so much power that it crackled over my skin and made my breath quicken.
Baby rushed out of my ring in a blur, hissing before he’d even fully formed, his back arching when his big, fluffy paws landed on the ground.
And sure, I was at the grave of a woman all goblins worshipped, and a tyrant queen had control of me, but there was no valid reason not to drop to my knees and bury my hands in Baby’s mane, talking to him in high, cooing noises.
He lapped up the attention, purring deep in his throat and earning a haughty, judging stare from Valour, who was too dignified for such displays.
Not that her back leg didn’t kick out when I wrangled her into our cuddle pile and scratched behind her ear.
They were part of me, and being separated from them felt like having two ribs cut out and held hostage against me.
How touching, Cleodora remarked. Now turn around and leave that tomb.
I waited for my limbs to betray me, but they were only words, not a command. I grinned, rising to my feet with a last kiss between Baby’s big blue eyes. There was something here Cleodora didn’t want me to find.
“Sorry to loot your final resting place,” I told Gaia, peering at the stone-rendered face of the woman atop the grave.
She was beautiful, with wide cheekbones, a plush mouth, deep-set brow, and a slight smile, like she knew something I didn’t.
She had a beauty mark above her lip, and long lashes even as a statue.
Her body was full of curves and bodacious beauty that made me envious, even though several reliable sources informed me that bodacious curves came with back pain and a ruthless determination from both breasts to escape to freedom at every opportunity.
“She looks so real,” I murmured, lifting my hands to trace the crease of her dress, the details so realistic that they must have been rendered by a master.
The stone was cold and smooth to the touch, a balm after the hot, sticky forest outside.
I trailed my stare from her skirt to the bodice to her peaceful, resting face and—and her delicate eyelids as they fluttered open.
“Nope,” I blurted, immediately backing up.
Baby and Valour formed a shield of glowing magic and bared fangs, but their shock was palpable as the stone woman swung her legs over the side of the sarcophagus. Well, swung her dress—she might have been up and horrifically moving like a living person, but she was still a carved statue.
“Look,” I said with a laugh, nerves bubbling up my chest as I threw a backward glance at the dark steps, hoping someone else might have made it through the staircase of horrors to back me up against a living statue.
“I know it’s bad manners to break into someone’s tomb, but there’s this psychotic queen who wants to steal from you, and I came to—”
What? Steal from her first.
“Stop her,” I finished after an awkward pause. Not that Gaia’s statue seemed to hear me. She saw me though, evidenced by her turning towards me with a sudden jerk, her mouth opening, and opening. Oh god, that was unnatural. Her jaw unhinged as a harsh, rattling roar poured into the mausoleum.
“Leave.”
“Happy to,” I agreed easily.
Sure, I wanted to thwart Cleodora, but I wanted to return to my husband much more, so I’d just be off now.
“Nice to meet you,” I blurted, backing up quickly. “Have a lovely rest. I’ll just be—”
She moved wickedly fast for a woman made of stone. In seconds, her grey fingers wrapped around the sapphire power that bound my wrists. Great. I told Kier that being handcuffed going into a magical tomb was a bad idea. I hoped I lived long enough to tell him I told you so.
“Thought you wanted me to leave?” I demanded, driving my knee up at the same time I shoved my hands down, her fingers colliding with my knee hard enough to a) leave a bruise and b) snap the first few knuckles off her fingers, enough for me to free myself.
She fixed her eyes on me, and call me old fashioned, but I didn’t think statues should possess that level of intelligence in a stare. A soft blue light gathered in each eye like a pupil. That could not be good.
I held my bound hands up, backing away another step. “I’m going, I won’t cause you any more—”
I bumped into the shelves built into the wall of her tomb hard enough that multiple somethings rattled and wobbled, a horrible screech of metal preceding a helmet tumbling to the ground.
“Trouble,” I finished lamely with a hopeful smile. “Forgive and forget?” I asked.
She lunged at me with her arms outstretched.
“I’ll take that as a no,” I grunted, kicking the helmet at her and blindly grabbing for the hilt of whatever dagger poked into my back. I’d barely closed my hands around it, whipping it around—awkwardly, because everything I did while bound was awkwardly—when Gaia threw herself upon me.
Valour collided with her first, but instead of solid magic smacking stone, she went all the way through the goddess’s effigy like a ghost. Ruthless shitting gods. I barely threw the dagger up in enough time to combat the right hook the statue threw my way.
“What are you trying to do?” I demanded, baffled and a little offended. She came at me like a drunkard. “Break my nose?”
I was very attached to this nose, and it had been broken enough times already, thank you. I put all my weight behind the dagger and used it to shear off her hand below the wrist. Nice. Very high quality blade. I might keep it.
I shouldn’t have thought that. Like the universe was laughing at me, like Cleodora certainly was, Gaia’s statue knocked the dagger from my hand and pushed me up against the wall, her forearm across my throat.
I grunted at the sudden crushing pain against my windpipe, kicking out at her shins and only bruising my own toes. Heat rose to my face. My blood pounded loud in my ears. My lungs began to scream in demand.
Baby yowled and leapt at her shoulder… and passed all the way through like a ghost. I sensed his anger rise, his temper explosive. With a flick, he unsheathed his claws and raked them down the statue’s leg, to no effect. Much like my attempts to push away the arm across my throat had no effect.
This was such a stupid way to die. And I didn’t particularly want to meet the dark god with my sister’s words still ringing through my head.
You’re no better than the whores in Seagrave. You’ll turn broodmare for them, help them breed the next generation of soldiers to slaughter Lunarians—
I flinched, knocking my own head into the wall and bringing tears of stinging pain to my eyes.
It was a low blow from Natasya, or whatever magic had summoned the illusion of her.
She knew how important family was to me, knew it had always been my number one priority and that I would do anything to protect the people I claimed.
To mock the idea of Kier and I having a child, to twist it into something to be ashamed of…
I didn’t like that her words had bitten deep, or the oily feeling in my gut.
What a sad, tragic death, Cleodora sighed, finding the absolute worst moment and placing herself slap-bang in the middle of it. I mentally gave her the middle finger, heaving against Gaia’s stone arm, twisting and writhing and utterly failing to free myself.
My magic turned erratic the closer death crept, the more difficult it became to draw even sips of air.
Dark spots gathered in my vision, the bright glow of Valour and Baby more like flickers.
No weapons, ineffective magic, and I couldn’t even reach the shelves full of weapons.
Cleodora was right, this was a sad way to—
Gaia’s head snapped very suddenly off her neck, leaving a headless statue holding me, the neck perfectly lined up with a fierce-eyed, glaring woman who stood behind her.
For a moment I stared at Xiona and she stared at me. The statue’s hands tightened, undeterred by a lack of head, and I gurgled.
“Mother’s tits,” Xiona breathed, driving the solid hilt of a sword into each arm, shattering them at the elbow. “What the fuck happened?”
I shook my head, gasping down air, my head spinning. I bent at the waist, hands resting on my knees. Not dead. Not tragic after all. Alive. Because of Xiona.
“Did you just,” I panted, my voice scratchy, “save my life.”
“No.” She grabbed my shoulder when I wavered, saving me from face-planting the floor. “I saved Kier from a life of heartache. This had nothing to do with you.”
My lips twitched in a half-smile. “Sure.”
“So where’s this infinite power that’s going to save you from whoever’s controlling you?”
Cleodora snorted in my head. Glad she was having a nice time. Some of us almost died.
“Not a clue,” I croaked, finding my balance and stepping away from her. “But that statue doesn’t want us finding it,” I pointed out, jerking my chin at Gaia’s stone visage as she came at us again.
Xiona sighed and raised her sword. “Get looking. Quickly.”
I didn’t waste time arguing, though I did glance longingly at the staircase, wishing Kier or my troupe would arrive.
More people in the tomb means more people for you to kill, Cleodora pointed out with no shortage of glee.
On second thoughts, I was content with just Xiona.