18. Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Eighteen
I t’s been days, and the High King still hasn’t returned. No one knows where he’s gone or how long he’ll be away.
Not even Viridian.
He’s simmered every night at dinner, scowling into his meal as if it’s the reason his father vanished without a word.
He does the same now.
“Viridian,” I say. “What is it?”
Though, I already know the answer.
“He’s left me to deal with the council,” Viridian seethes. Raw power ripples through the room. “The Heads of House all look to me for answers, yet I have none. He left me none.”
“I know.”
While the High King’s absence angers him, it only leaves me puzzled. I can’t help but think that his father’s sudden departure has something to do with the answers we’re chasing—the common cause of the East Tower’s rot, the mining sickness, and the draining of the mines.
The look on his face tells me that Viridian knows it, too.
He presses his lips into a fine line, hands gripping his fork and knife. “Leave us,” he orders, without looking at the guards or servants who wait in a line against the wall.
Silently, they do as he commands. They exit, leaving just the two of us. Alone.
“Have you learned anything?” he finally asks me.
In the time since we’ve returned, we’ve been snooping around the castle where we can. For Lymseia and me, talking to servants and trying to listen in on conversations where we can. For him and Myrdin, searching the libraries when they have free time. Though, something tells me that Viridian’s been much too busy with the council to do much else.
“No.” I wish I had. “Have you?”
“No.” A pause. “Myrdin and Lymseia haven’t either.”
I look down at my half-eaten plate. “We will find something.”
We have to.
He sighs. “You’re right. I know that.”
“But? ”
“But I can’t help but wonder if there even is anything to be found.”
“You and I both know that isn’t true,” I say. “Not after what we’ve seen.”
The vision of the East Tower flashes in Viridian’s expression. “I know.” Using a napkin, he wipes his mouth. “What should we do?”
“What we’ve been doing,” I say, turning my attention back to my dinner. “We keep pressing for answers and looking where we can. Something will turn up.”
I say the words with confidence that I don’t have.
Because the truth is, I’m just as lost as Viridian. But I don’t have any other choice but to keep looking.
Please, if you’re listening, I pray, to any god that will listen, guide us.
Viridian searches my face. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”
M y sleep isn’t kind to me that night.
Images flash before me.
I see my father. Acantha.
Loren.
People are wailing around me. Their grief is so strong, so palpable, that I feel as if I’m drowning in their sea of sorrow.
Slowly, I turn. I cover my mouth in horror.
All around me are holes. Pickaxes strewn about. Some whole, some broken. They’re all scattered between the graves.
The grisly headstones span as far as I can see. There are no houses, no farmland, no windmills.
Only graves.
Miners’ graves. One by one, claimed by the sickness. Until there were none left.
When I turn back around, Father, Acantha, and Loren are gone.
“Father!” I cry until my voice runs ragged. “Acantha! Where are you?”
I start to run through the graves, reading each one with desperation. Praying I’ll find them. Praying they’re not in the ground.
“Father! Acantha! Loren!”
“Cryssa!”
“Father!” I shout. “Father, where are you?”
But my father’s cry grows faint. “Cryssa!”
“Father!”
I force myself to go faster, pushing myself through the burning in my thighs. I trip. Lifting myself up onto my elbows, I spit the dirt from my mouth.
“Cryssa!” My father’s voice is nearly gone.
I move to stand.
And then…
Darkness.
“Hello?” I call out, whirling around. Ebony nothingness surrounds me .
A figure steps out from the shadows.
“Who are you?” I ask. “Step back.”
But the figure keeps walking. I move away from it, though no matter how fast I am, it always closes the gap between us.
I freeze. Though, it’s not of my own accord. It’s as if my feet cling to the earth, even though there is nothing below me.
The figure stands, eerily still.
“Who are you?” I ask again.
The figure’s blank face morphs into a masculine one. Pale and angular, with high cheekbones.
I know that face.
Viridian.
Only, the amber of his eyes has been drained, leaving them colorless. Shadows swirl over his face.
“I am Death,” Viridian says. But it’s not his voice—no, this voice is darker, but not evil. Colder, but not cruel. “And I have come with a warning.”
Death?
I shake my head. “This can’t be. This is—this can’t be.”
“Beware, lost golden daughter,” Viridian—no, Death —says. “Old and ancient magic surrounds you. It is cunning and it is vengeful. When the time comes, you must choose.”
“Choose?” I echo. My head swirls.
“Choose life, without love, in a cursed land.” Death pauses. “Or choose death in the name of love, and sacred sacrifice.”
Choose between life and death ?
Cursed land?
Sacred sacrifice?
“What does that mean?” I ask.
But Death is silent.
“What does that mean?” My words become more frantic. “Am I going to die?”
Death steps back into the shadows.
“Wait!” I cry, running after him. “Wait!”
But he’s already gone.
“Cryssa!” Someone calls my name. They sound like they’re far from here.
I whirl around, but there’s no one there. My breathing quickens, catching in my throat.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
Then I wake up.
“Cryssa,” Viridian says gently, with both his hands on my shoulders. “Wake up, Cryssa.”
I turn my face to look at him. His brows are stitched together, jaw tight with worry. Then his warm, amber eyes find mine, and all the tension bleeds from his face.
He cups my face, brushing his thumb back and forth against my chin. “You’re all right. You’re safe.”
With his other hand, he wipes my eyes.
Have I been crying?
My impaired nostrils would suggest that I have.
The image of Death flashes in my mind. I shudder and tear my eyes from him .
“Come here,” Viridian says, with a newfound tenderness. Gently, he pulls me to his chest and wraps me in his arms.
I close my eyes and breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth.
“Nightmare?” Viridian asks. I can feel the faint rumble in his chest when he speaks.
“Yes.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
When I don’t say anything, he speaks again.
“Ah—erm.” He pauses, as if unsure how to proceed. More quickly this time, as if jumbled by nerves or awkwardness, he says, “You don’t have to, if you’d rather not.”
“I think I’d rather not,” I say. I don’t want to think about my nightmare any longer tonight. Because that’s all it is. A nightmare. Nothing more.
“But—” Stopping himself, he closes his eyes and exhales. “As you wish.”
Viridian shifts his weight and moves to stand.
The words leave my lips before I can process what I’m saying. “Stay with me tonight. Please.”
He turns, tilting his head down to look at me. I think he might say something, but he doesn’t. He only nods and lays next to me.
I lift the covers so he can swing his legs underneath them. Then he lays on his back, with an arm extended to me. He doesn’t quite reach me, but the gesture positions him in a way that makes him seem open to my touch .
I move my body closer to his and rest my head on his chest. Viridian’s arms circle me, with one of his hands stroking my hair.
“Sleep well, Cryssa,” he says softly.
I’m asleep before I can respond.