Chapter 20
Chapter twenty
The silence after violence had a weight to it. Briar could hear her own breathing, harsh and too loud in the sudden quiet. She lay on the cold stone floor of the cell, one hand pressed to her bleeding throat, the other flat against the floor to keep the world from spinning.
Ash drifted down like snow—all that remained of the Withered. The air stank of burned moss and decay, making her already churning stomach worse. She could taste copper in her mouth, feel the sticky warmth of blood trailing down her neck, soaking into the torn silk of her dress.
Footsteps. She forced her eyes open, though the effort felt monumental.
Eliam stood over her, and for a moment she didn't recognize him. His eyes were still completely black, no white visible. Blood—her blood—stained his mouth, his chin. Power radiated from him in waves that made the remaining moss flare brighter, as if bowing to their king.
Then he blinked, and they were just his eyes again. Dark, worried, fixed on her.
"Can you stand?"
She tried to push herself up, got as far as her elbows before the chamber tilted sideways. "Not yet."
He knelt beside her, his hands surprisingly gentle as they checked the bite on her throat. She felt him tense when his fingers came away bloody.
"I took too much."
"You took what you needed." Her voice came out rasping, raw. "We're alive."
"Barely." But his arm slipped under her shoulders, lifting her against his chest. Her head fell against his shoulder, and she breathed in the scent of him—forest and rain and something darker now, something that hadn't been there before.
"The others?" she managed.
"Karse has a burn on his arm. Thaine's upright. Ferria's whole." He stood, lifting her with him as if she weighed nothing. "We need to move."
The world swayed as he carried her toward the chamber entrance.
She could see the others through blurring vision—Karse cradling his left arm, several scales blackened and cracking.
Thaine leaning heavily against a broken cell door, blood matting his hair.
Ferria standing apart, her illusion magic flickering around her like nervous energy.
"Can you all walk?" Eliam's voice carried command even though he looked barely better than the rest of them.
"Better than staying here," Karse said, though his usual snark sounded strained.
They moved toward the stairs, Eliam still carrying her. The moss had gone dark, no longer responding to their presence. Her blood had left a trail across the floor—she could see it in the dying light, dark splatters leading from the cell to where they walked now.
The sound started soft. Slow.
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
They all froze.
"Bravo," Malus's voice drifted down from the stairway, each word precisely enunciated. "Truly. A magnificent performance."
He descended into view, and Briar's heart sank. He looked perfect. Immaculate. His dark burgundy jacket without a wrinkle, his hair copper-bright in the dim light. No sign that she'd drugged him. No indication that bloodshade had touched him at all.
Behind him came more Withered. Six, eight, a dozen, she lost count as they flowed down the stairs like water, spreading out to block any possible exit.
"I particularly enjoyed the bloodshade," Malus continued, reaching the bottom of the stairs.
"Clever. Though you might have used a stronger dose.
I was only unconscious for—what? An hour?
" He examined his nails, casual as if discussing the weather.
"Síocháin suffered beautifully for her part, by the way.
Did you know fae as old as her can survive quite extensive damage?
We're still discovering exactly how much. "
No.
Briar tried to push herself up in Eliam's arms, but he tightened his grip, keeping her still.
"Malus," Eliam said, his voice flat.
"Brother." Malus smiled, and it was all teeth.
"How lovely to see you free. And feeding on humans, no less.
" His gaze fixed on the blood still staining Eliam's mouth.
"How the mighty have fallen. All those principles, all those years of refusing to take human blood, and look at you now. Covered in it. Reeking of it."
"Let us pass."
"Let you pass?" Malus laughed, the sound echoing off stone. "After the trouble you've caused? After what she—" his eyes found Briar, "—put me through? No, I don't think so."
The Withered moved closer, their antlered heads turning in unison. The temperature dropped, frost beginning to form on the wet stones.
"Though I must say," Malus continued, his attention still on Briar, "she was delightful. So responsive once properly motivated. Did she tell you how sweetly she submitted? How her body sang when I—"
"Don't." Eliam's voice was barely human, more growl than word.
"Oh, she didn't tell you." Malus's smile widened. "She came to my chambers wearing your colors. Kissed me with such enthusiasm, letting me explore every inch of her while she moaned so prettily. And her blood when aroused—exquisite. Like honey and copper and complete submission."
Briar felt Eliam's arms turn to stone around her. The temperature dropped further, but this cold came from him, from fury so complete it changed the very air.
"Given time," Malus added, almost conversationally, "I plan to train her properly. Teach her to crave my touch instead of just enduring it. She was already on her way to learning, weren't you, dear one?"
She couldn't look at anyone. Couldn't see their faces. The shame burned worse than the wound on her throat.
"Get close to me," Eliam said quietly. Too quietly.
Karse moved first, understanding danger when he heard it. Thaine stumbled over, his hand finding Karse's shoulder for support. Ferria hesitated, then stepped near, her face carefully blank.
"Karse." Eliam's voice stayed level, controlled. "How much fire do you have left?"
The Drak flexed his burned hand, scales scraping. "Enough. If you need it."
"I'm going to need it."
Malus laughed again. "Planning something, brother? While you can barely stand? While holding your bleeding pet?" He gestured, and the Withered began moving forward. "Take them. Don't harm the girl—she's mine. The others are disposable."
The Withered glided across the floor, their robes trailing through puddles of blood and ash. That sweet-sick smell of decay grew stronger, thick enough to choke on.
Eliam set Briar down, carefully, propping her against Thaine who caught her with his good arm. She wanted to protest, but her legs wouldn't hold her. The blood loss made everything feel distant, underwater.
"When I say run," Eliam said under his breath, "you run."
The floor beneath them groaned.
No—not groaned. Grew.
Thorns erupted from the stone, black wood spiraling up between them and the advancing Withered.
Not a wall—a maze of brambles, each thorn as long as her hand, weaving and spreading with violent speed.
The Withered hit the barrier and immediately began their work, decay spreading wherever they touched.
"Karse," Eliam said. "Now."
Fire roared. Not the controlled bursts from before, but everything Karse had left, a wave of flame that caught the brambles and turned them into a blazing wall. The Withered recoiled—even they couldn't walk through that inferno.
The heat washed over them, so intense Briar's eyes watered. She could hear Malus shouting something, but the roar of flames drowned him out.
Eliam grabbed her again, pulled her tight against him. "Everyone hold on."
Ferria gripped his arm. Karse grabbed Thaine and Eliam's shoulder. The shadows at their feet began to move, to rise, to wrap around them like living things.
"No," Malus's voice cut through the fire's roar. "You don't get to—"
The world tilted.
Shadow-walking felt like drowning in reverse. Like being pulled up through black water, unable to breathe, unable to see. Briar's stomach turned inside out. Her lungs burned. The wound on her throat tore wider from the pressure.
Then air. Cold, clean air that tasted of pine and night.
They collapsed in a heap on frost-covered ground. Trees surrounded them—not the twisted things near the palace but healthy pines, their needles rustling in wind that didn't smell of decay.
Briar rolled onto her hands and knees, dry heaving. Nothing came up—there was nothing in her stomach—but her body tried anyway. Beside her, Thaine was actually vomiting, his body rejecting the violence of shadow travel.
"We're not far enough," Eliam gasped. He was on his knees too, shaking from the effort. Shadow-walking that many people, even just to the forest edge, had cost him. "He'll follow. We need to—"
"Move," Karse finished, dragging himself upright. His burned arm hung useless at his side, but he pulled Thaine up with the other. "Can anyone run?"
"I can." Ferria was already standing, illusions shimmering around her. "I'll hide our trail."
"Won't matter," Eliam said, getting to his feet, pulling Briar up with him. "He'll track my magic."
They stumbled forward through the darkness. Eliam was half-carrying, half-dragging her, and every step sent her vision swimming. The trees pressed close, identical pines that offered no landmark, no sign they were going the right direction.
Behind them, something roared. The sound wasn't human, but it wasn't entirely fae either. It was pure rage given voice.
"He's coming," Ferria said unnecessarily, her illusions flickering weakly around them.
Then Briar heard it. The sound was like dried leaves skittering across stone, but it was wrong somehow. It was too purposeful, and there were too many sources.
"What is that?" Thaine started to ask.
The first creature dropped from the trees onto his shoulder. It was cat-sized, with mottled grey skin and eyes that glowed red in the darkness. Its mouth opened to reveal rows of needle teeth, and Thaine screamed.