Chapter 40
The sun sinks below the horizon, sending a chill over the dining hall. Goosebumps prickle my skin, and I push the meat and roast vegetables around my plate.
Caelus leans away from me, deep in conversation with a noble. Across the room, Kressa’s head is bowed over her plate, yet she hasn’t touched a thing.
“Any hint on what you’re going to announce in the coming days?” the noble asks, voice lowered.
My ears prick up, and I angle my body closer. I force a small carrot into my mouth, but it turns to ash on my tongue.
“It’s still in the works. But, this new advancement could mean victory.”
I tighten my grip on the fork, and the metal bites into my palm. Victory over the Sea Court? My mouth turns to cotton.
Did they find Delterran?
A royal guard enters and strides down the center aisle. He pauses at the bottom of the dais and bows. “Your Majesty.”
Caelus dismisses the noble and motions for the guard to climb the dais. The hair on my body stands on edge as he leans over Caelus’s shoulder and lowers his voice to a whisper. I crane my neck, but I can’t discern any of his words.
“Good. And you replaced the quilt?”
My brows furrow, and air rushes into my lungs. Of course. The mirror. The one I’ve never seen uncovered, hidden in plain sight.
I press my hand to Caelus’s shoulder. “If you’ll please excuse me, I have someone I need to talk to.”
Isolde’s fork stops halfway to her mouth, forgotten, as her eyes meet mine.
But what she said about the people executed this morning haunts me, replaying in my head over and over. The lack of sympathy in her voice, for those who suffered a needless death.
Ice forms behind her irises, and she returns her attention to her plate.
Caelus scowls, glancing at Kressa. “You’re excused, courtesan.”
My nostrils flare, but I blow out a breath and stand. Gazes follow me—Isolde’s like a brand on my spine—as I step from the dais and stride past the tables. The runner sinks under my feet, and I shake out my hands, willing my heart to slow.
I knock on Kressa’s mental door.
Yes?
Her voice floats straight through my head and down my body, soothing every muscle and nerve. My exhale nearly comes out as a sigh, but I keep my eyes trained on the door looming closer.
I know where he is.
Shock filters through the bond. Are you sure?
No.
A pause, then, Tell me what you need.
Meet me in front of Caelus’s room in five minutes. We have to act while everyone is occupied.
I clear the archway, and the door swings shut behind me. The castle is a blur as I take the marble steps two at a time, bolting down the hall to Caelus’s chambers.
Hushed conversation comes from two guards stationed outside his doors. Pressing a hand over my heart, I sidle up against the cold wall. I comb through my hair and throw it over my shoulder, painting on a sleepy smile.
I turn the corner, and the guards stiffen, but their shoulders relax as their gazes rake along my swaying hips. I wet my lips, tugging the lower one between my teeth.
“Good evening,” I purr, wrapping a hand around my dagger.
My nails dig into the hilt. These guards partook in the execution—severed the heads of innocent people without a second thought. Fresh hatred swells deep in my gut.
“To what do we owe this pleasure?” one says, eyes glued to my chest.
The other smirks. “Did the king agree to share his favorite toy?”
I wipe off my facade and replace it with a leveled, predatory stare. “I am no one’s to be shared.”
Unlike last time, I don’t have the luxury of enlisting Thea and Gemma’s help. But perhaps that’s for the best. I have no intention of letting these guards leave the hallway.
I slide my dagger free.
A guard huffs. “Sweetheart, do you even know how to use that?”
“Me?” I bat my lashes. “Of course not. I found it on the ground and thought it was pretty.”
The other guard takes a step forward and holds out his hand. “I’ll take it from you before you hurt yourself.”
I hold the dagger eye level and drag a finger down the side of the blade, marveling at the way it catches the light. Flicking my gaze to him, I wink. “I think I’ll keep it.”
His hand settles on the hilt of his sword, and the guards exchange a wary glance.
I swing the dagger at my side. “What? Not as confident unless I’m kneeling and bound by rope like the people you executed this morning?”
They draw their blades, metal screeching against the sheaths.
“If you’d prefer to be bound by rope,” the guard on my left snarls, “we can arrange that.”
I tap the point of my dagger to my chin, considering. Smiling, I run my tongue over the sharp edge of my top teeth. “As fun as that sounds, I think you’d both still end up bleeding out.”
The guard to my right advances a step. His arm reels back, swinging his blade, but before it crests, I flip my dagger into my palm and plunge it deep into his chest. I yank it out, and he drops to the floor, gushing blood.
Through a curtain of hair, I smile at the remaining guard. “Did I do it right?”
Blood beads at the tip of the blade and splashes to the floor as the man at my feet goes still.
He grits his teeth. “I’ll cut you to pieces while the other courtesans watch.”
I chuckle. “Such a little man with little words.”
He jumps and slashes his blade down in a wide arc. I sidestep and it hits the stone floor, the sound clattering through the empty hallway. He lifts it, but the sword slows him down, and I reel back my fist, punching him square in the jaw. His head twists, blood spurting from his mouth.
“That’s for the innocent people you killed today.”
He rights himself and drags a sleeve across his mouth, gaze pinned on me. Raw rage swims behind his eyes, and he lunges, the tip of his blade aimed for my chest. I feign left and raise my foot, kicking him in the side.
“That’s for any people you’ve killed from the Sea Court.”
He slams into the wall and slumps to the ground, his sword clattering out of reach. I lower a knee to his wheezing chest and pin him beneath me.
“And this—this is for me. For the Princess of the Sea.”
His eyes widen, and I slam the dagger into his chest.
Footsteps sound from the end of the corridor, and I yank out my dagger, wiping the blood off on his shirt. I stand and step away from the body as Kressa rounds the corner.
She stops short. “I heard fighting.”
I glance at the fallen guards. “What fighting?”
She shakes her head and closes the distance, lips pressed into a fine line. Her gaze rakes over me. “Are you okay?”
Her words are so genuine, so gentle, that I pull her hand to my face and lean into it. “I’m fine. I promise.”
She grimaces. “And the guards?”
“Need to go in the linen closet. Right now.”
I step to the guard against the wall and grab him under the arms, dragging him into the narrow closet across from Caelus’s room. Kressa makes quick work of the other, and I mutter a silent apology to the poor servant who will discover them.
Kressa grabs a rag from a wooden shelf and returns to the hallway, wiping up the streak of blood.
“I said you didn’t have to help me.” She tosses it into the closet and shuts the door. “So why the change of heart?”
I sort through the answers that don’t have a reasonable explanation, and settle on, “Apparently, Caelus’s announcement means victory for the Sky Court.”
“Victory?” Kressa breathes.
Nodding, I pull open the heavy oak doors into Caelus’s sitting area. The mirror stands in the corner with a heavy quilt thrown over the glass.
“We need to send your brother on the next ship with a message for King Golan that the Earth Court needs to join the war. Not when reinforcements are ready, but now.”
Her face falters, but she nods.
My hands pause around the quilt. “And we’re sending Thea with him. Caelus threatened to kill her if I don’t tell him why you joined the competition.”
She tilts her head. “So why don’t you tell him?”
“Because you’d turn me in.”
Her fingers trace my jaw and sweep my hair off my shoulder. “I think we both know that’s not true.”
I cast my gaze down. I have known—for a while now, that she wouldn’t hand me over. But I belong to the sea, and whatever my heart wants can’t come between that.
“Then it’s because we make good allies.”
“Indeed.”
In one fell swoop, I tug the quilt down. The cloudy mirror ripples and distorts our reflections, but the glass fades away and reveals an entrance to a dark corridor.
Kressa waves a hand through the opening. “What is this?”
“Some sort of charmed mirror that hopefully leads to your brother.” A shiver snakes down my spine. “But we don’t have much time.”
I spare a glance at Caelus’s door and slip over the threshold into the mirror. Kressa follows, and the glass clouds over again, giving no hint of the room on the other side. The air squeezes in on us, denser.
The low ceiling curves into the narrow walls on either side of us, and I run a finger down the black stone. It stings, and I flinch back, taking in the metal door at the very end. But it’s no normal metal—not iron or steel.
“Rhodium,” I whisper. “It’s made entirely of rhodium.”
Her hands clench into fists. “We need to hurry.”
We stride down the short hallway, past a single oil lamp casting a shadow on the walls. She knocks against the door. “Elias?”
No answer.
I try the heavy handle, but it doesn’t budge. Lowering, I drag my finger over the locking mechanism, but there is no combination, no keyhole.
“It must have to be unlocked with some sort of power,” I say, biting my lip. Or whoever gets locked in is never meant to come out.
She curses under her breath and reaches for the latch on a small window, swinging it open. A dim light floats in the cell, illuminating a room only big enough to accommodate a cot on one wall. Across from the bed, not even a foot away, is a toilet.
“Briar,” Kressa whispers, pointing at the wall above the cot.
My stomach bottoms out. Etched into the stone is the same design as the pendant around my neck.
But that isn’t what makes my blood run cold.
It’s the rows of tick marks—thousands of tiny, uniform scratches in the rhodium.
Thousands of days—a decade, locked in this cell with no interaction, no sunlight.
But no Elias.
Kressa grips the bars. “Where is he?”
I step back. “Kressa, if he’s been in here for this long, with only his mind—”
She closes the window and presses her forehead to it. “Don’t. Don’t tell me he won’t be the same.”
The air thickens, souring in my lungs. She must know that his mind is enough to drive him crazy. I swallow. “We’re going to find him. I promise.”
“If I don’t find him before the end of the competition, I have to return to Ignata without him.”
I cup her jaw. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep. But we need to go. If we’re caught, we may find ourselves on the other side of that door.”
She spares a wary glance to the metal that doesn’t reflect any light, only siphons it, and nods. “Let’s go.”
We step into Caelus’s empty sitting room, and the mirror clouds over again as the weight on my chest dissolves. I gnaw on my lip. How many times have I been in here, ignorant to the prisoner only feet away? But if I had known, would I have done anything about it?
I quickly replace the quilt over the mirror, and we slip out of the room.
“Dinner should be over by now,” I say as we come to a junction in the hallway.
Two voices echo from around the corner—Caelus and another I can’t discern. Kressa freezes and grabs my hand.
Her face turns ashen and she glances around the hall, yanking me toward a closet. She shoves me inside and throws herself over me as she pulls the door shut. A sliver of light sneaks through the crack underneath, yet not nearly enough to illuminate the closet.
I tap at her mental door. What is going on?
Her chest heaves against mine, so close her heart races against my ear. Her hands brace against the wall on either side of my head, enveloping me in her scent.
When she doesn’t answer, I squirm. There’s a wooden shelf digging into my spine.
She weaves her hand around my back and tugs me closer, her arm flush against the shelf. Better?
I swallow. Much.
Her thumb rubs a soothing line along the curve of my waist, and I breathe her in. She lowers her mouth to my ear, as if to say something out loud, but doesn’t.
Don’t make a sound, love.
My hips press into hers, my leg parting her thighs, but in the cramped space, I can’t shift without risking something falling from the shelf. My fingertips meet skin below the hem of her shirt.
A glow lights the room.
Kressa curses under her breath and throws a hand over my chest. The light peeks through the cracks between her fingers.
As much as I’m enjoying your thoughts, now isn’t exactly the right time.
I press my eyes shut and suck in a deep breath. But all that does is push us closer. Uncontrollable heat fills the space behind my navel, and power swells in my chest, begging me to get closer. My fingertips trace the edge of her waistband.
She shifts. Briar.
Her thoughts come through as a strangled rasp—a warning—as her fingers curl against my chest.
Caelus’s voice sounds from the hall, and I stiffen. Kressa’s arm tightens around my waist, and I press my hand over hers, blocking as much of the emerald glow as possible.
The temperature plummets, and our breath fogs. Ice snakes under the door in a frozen wave, stopping at Kressa’s heel. I stifle a gasp and hold my breath.
Caelus’s power, stronger than I’ve seen it in years.
“Has everything been collected for the final trial?” he says, voice like icicles down my spine.
In the dark, Kressa’s gaze meets mine. Collected?
“Almost. It’s taken more resources than we anticipated.” A guard, or another staff member. “Some of them fight back more than others.”
My stomach flips, and the icy air infiltrates my lungs, freezing them. Their footsteps fade around the corner, and the ice at our feet retreats. I swallow and press my forehead against the curve of Kressa’s neck.
What if neither of us survive?