6. Chapter Six
CHAPTER SIX
AGGONID
W e’re in the eastern corridor, its stone walls lined with faded banners and torches that throw restless shadows across the floor. Caius paces along the length of the hallway, his tail snapping behind him with each agitated step, one hand pressed hard against his sternum.
“I don’t fucking feel her,” he growls, the words raw. “Why can’t I feel her?!”
He halts abruptly in front of me, his breathing ragged, eyes wild. Before he can unravel, I grab him and pull him into my arms, his body rigid with tension.
Twenty-seven hours, thirteen minutes, and forty-seven seconds. That’s how long it’s been since King Valtorious sifted Az and Morte out of the ballroom.
It’s been a little over six hours since the High King and Queen of the fae arrived with a portal stone to evacuate the castle servants to Bedlam. The king’s interrogators had wasted no time combing through their ranks, extracting every piece of information about Valtorious's whereabouts and the events that transpired before the ballroom descended into chaos.
No one knows where the Romarie king is. One by one, we’d scoured every square inch of this place. Combed through every room, our shadows filling every crevice, feeling for the heat of her phoenix. The once grand ballroom, now in ruins, lay just beyond the open doors.
If she were here, we’d know.
My eyes shift to Emeric, seated on the floor, his breaths coming fast and shallow. He’s a hellhound. The best kind of tracker there is—any time someone tries to subvert the rules of the underworld, who do you think drags them back to where they belong? So why can’t he find her?
We can’t get a sense of her anywhere. Not in this realm or the next.
With a harsh exhale, Em pushes his palms to the marble floor and forces his unwilling body to stand. Blood seeps from the laceration at his side as his breath shudders. He hasn’t bothered to heal his injuries yet, too focused on tracking her. I watch as his muscles protest, his eyebrows knitting together as he paces the length of the hallway.
“Where would they take her?” he mutters before he lets out a primal roar, snatching up the nearest object—a delicate vase filled with enchanted, glittering flowers, and hurls it across the length of the hallway, watching as it shatters, its pieces skittering across the gouged floor.
“It’s this place,” I murmur, pressing my forehead to Caius’s. “Ollin has gone and fucked with the way magic operates here.”
Caius pulls away, panic setting in. “How can we find her if we can’t feel her?”
Em curls over, hand braced against the metal end table as he winces at the pain. He sucks in a sharp breath.
“Fucking hell.” He glances up before crouching and leveling his eyesight with the table.
“What?” I stalk towards him.
It’s there—the sheen of the sanguimetal beneath his palm.
“Wherever she is, he’s got to be using metal to enclose her.”
“And?”
He grins. “So, we’ve got a shit ton of sanguimetal now.” He throws his hands wide, gesturing to the castle made of it. Hissing in another breath, he presses his palm to his wound, letting out the air as his magic works to stitch himself back together.
“Fucking brilliant bastard.” I close the distance between us, clapping a hand on his shoulder.
“Is this … is this a thing now?” Caius joins us, watching where I clasp him.
I snatch my hand back, rolling my eyes before facing my mate. “We’re going to build another dreamscape. She’ll be able to tell us where she’s being kept.” And hopefully, why in the blazes we can’t find her.
“Thank fuck.”