36. Chapter Thirty-Six
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
WILDER
W e don’t go back down to the dungeon today. Instead, we gather in Aggonid and Caius’s study to go over logistics for Emeric’s journey to the River of Souls. That takes precedence, as King Valtorious and his physician will be in the dungeon for eternity. Our priority is Az.
Morte sits curled in an armchair, her eyes red-rimmed and distant, her fingers absently tracing the black X on her chest. She hasn’t said much since the bomb Aggonid dropped in her lap, and the grief and betrayal radiating through our bond is nearly overwhelming. It’s put everyone in a shitty mood.
I can’t blame her for withdrawing.
The fae devil paces by the windows, shadows writhing at his feet. It grates on my nerves—his steps restless, constant. The wraith-like serpents following his every move. They seem to feed off his agitation, responding to each frustrated jerk of his head. I get it; we all feel it. Tension. Guilt. The unending need to make things right.
I hate seeing her like this. Something in me twists at the sight—at her hollow eyes, at her trembling fingers tracing those damned lines across her skin. She deserves more. She deserves better .
Self loathing is a constant companion. The only one that hasn’t completely fucked Morte over is Emeric.
Caius props himself against the desk, his arms crossed tight, tail flicking behind him in an uneasy rhythm. Em stands next to the map spread across the heavy oak table, his eyes tracing the winding lines of the River of Souls, like veins, it’s endless. His fingers hover over the parchment, a half-gloved hand tapping absently at the lines, eyes narrowed, lost in thought.
Emeric shifts slightly, fingers tapping against the map’s edge, and finally he breaks the silence. “We’ll start here,” he says, pointing to a place where the river splinters into countless tributaries. His finger hovers over the spot, his eyes unfocused, like he’s already lost in the river’s currents. “This branch—given where Azazel—where I feel a pull, this is the closest. I think the current would’ve carried him here first. We’ll have to start at the base and work our way through.”
Aggonid halts his pacing, his shadows stilling. His scrutiny sharpens, shifting from Emeric’s face to the map. “It’s not going to be easy,” he mutters, his tone brittle. His jaw tightens, and his eyes flick to Morte. “The River of Souls doesn’t give back what it takes without a fight.”
Emeric nods, his expression solemn, but there’s a fire in his eyes. “I know. I’m prepared. But if anyone can find him, it’s me.” He looks at Morte, a softness entering his stare. “I’ll bring him back, I swear it.”
The room falls silent. The crackle of the fireplace fills the air, and I shift uneasily, the tension mounting. I need answers, and I’m tired of the quiet.
“Why does it have to be you?” The words burst out of me, the question biting at the back of my throat. “Aggonid is the one with the souls to bargain.” There are far too many questions and too few answers. For hundreds of years, I was in the dark. No more.
Emeric’s glances up. His eyes soften. He steps away from the map and crosses to me, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Because I’m a hellhound, Wilder. I was born here. My blood’s tied to it. I know the river better than anyone else—its twists and currents, the dangers that lurk beneath. I’m a tracker.” He pauses, his fingers curling tighter around my shoulder. “It’s what I’m good at. If anyone can find him, it’s me. He was my best friend.”
I clench my jaw, frustration mounting in me. He’s right, of course. It’s who Emeric is. Still, the thought of him stepping into that place alone gnaws at me. This mission … it’s dangerous. Too much is at stake. If anything happens to another one of us, I’m not sure we’ll ever get Morte back.
Morte rises from her chair, stopping in front of Emeric. “I’m coming with you.”
Aggonid’s head snaps up, shadows tightening around his feet. He takes a step toward her, shaking his head. “No, Morte. It’s too dangerous. You don’t need to?—”
“You made me like this, Aggie.” She throws her hands up, silencing him with a cold, hardened glare. “In fact, none of you should fucking go. It should be me and me alone because when I die, yeah, it’ll be agonizing, but I’ll be back. Right?” There’s venom in her tone. She crosses to the table, her fingers skimming the edges of the map before she turns warm eyes to Emeric. “You know I can handle it. I’m not going to sit here, waiting. Azazel sacrificed himself for me. He deserves better than that.”
Aggonid hesitates, his hands balling into fists at his sides. He doesn’t argue further, but tension grips his posture. His shadows creep forward, twining around her ankles, binding her in place.
Emeric’s eyes meet hers, studying her face. His expression softens. He reaches out, his hand covering hers where it rests on the map. “Alright,” he sighs. “But you need to be prepared. Once we’re there, it’ll be dangerous. The river’s currents are strong. They drag souls under, and it’s nearly impossible to fight them. You have to stay close to me. No matter what.”
Morte blinks, determination etched into every line of her face. “Together, then.”
Aggonid sighs, shadows dissipating, and steps toward them. He wraps an arm around Morte, pulling her close. His fingers stroke her hair, his forehead resting against hers. He stays like that for a moment, breathing her in, and then his eyes open, meeting Emeric’s stare. “You bring her back. Both of you. You understand me?”
Emeric dips his head, his jaw tight as he mutters, “I promise.”
She pulls away from him and walks over to me. Her beautiful ocean eyes meet mine. She reaches out, her fingers intertwining with mine. “I’ll come back,” she whispers. “I always do.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“What?”
“Aggonid and Caius can stay here and figure out how the fuck we’re going to get his soul back into his body once it’s here. But you’re going nowhere without me. Never again. Emeric might be able to find things, but no one can command a tide better than I can. Doesn’t matter the body of water. You’ll be infinitely safer with me there.” I cup both of her cheeks. “I’ve spent too long locked away, unable to protect you. Never again. Where you go, I go.”
She looks at me, her eyes softening. She opens her mouth as if to argue, but then closes it, studying my face. After a moment, she nods slowly. “You’re right. You can feel the currents, manipulate them.” She glances at Emeric. “His power will help us.”
“The River of Souls isn’t just water. It’s … alive. Hungry.”
I smirk. “Good. It’s been a while since I’ve had to flex any kind of effort with water.”
Morte gives me the tiniest of smiles in return, but I’ll take it.
“Let’s head to Azazel’s house now, and we’ll leave at first light. We should get going before midnight.” She steps away from me and heads to the closet across the room.
“What happens at midnight?” I ask.
The only response I get in return is an eerie chuckle from Caius.