Chapter 42
Adozen draugr close in on Auri and Finnian. Auri’s arm weeps blood as she kicks a draugr. It stumbles back, and then hefts its battle axe for another strike.
Finnian’s chest heaves as two draugr corner him. He slashes, but the draugr deflect each strike. He cries out as one cuts into his gambeson, the padded fabric tearing. Panic bursts inside me.
“I’ve got the one on the right!” I fling my knife, striking the draugr’s rotted neck. Its jaw clacks as it stumbles, its eyes dimming.
Desmond climbs up from the ladder behind me. He lifts his chin. Every draugr staggers like a puppet whose strings have been pulled taut. Their spectral eyes widen, jaws unhinging in fear as they helplessly twitch, powerless against him.
Then Desmond throws his arms out. The draugr raise their blades to their own necks, chopping off their heads.
It’s utterly terrifying.
At once, the cavern is silent.
Desmond sinks onto his knees. He’s pale, sweating, and staring at his shaking hands in shock.
Auri kneels beside him. “It’s been too long since I saw you use your power.
” She hesitates, grimacing as though already regretting what she’s about to say.
“I know you despise it, but General Vale needs you on the front lines. Your kingdom needs you. Avedor wouldn’t stand a chance against us if you’d commit to using it. ”
“Don’t call her that!” Desmond snaps.
Auri glares at him. “Deitra outranks you as a general and as a royal, whether you like it or not.”
“This power is wrong,” he argues, his voice shaking with bitterness. “It’s sacrilege to Danu. It goes against everything the High Court is supposed to stand for!”
The shout echoes through the chamber. I start to speak, to stop Auri from pushing him further, but Finnian grabs my arm in warning. The look in his dark eyes reads stay out of this.
“Get it together, Desmond. This is why Deitra ordered me to accompany you,” Auri says.
His jaw sets, hands clenching so tight they tremble.
Then Auri sighs. She gently lays her hand on his shoulder. “You freed those draugr’s souls from their bodies. They can move on to the afterlife because of you.”
He shakes his head. “They never would’ve been bound in the first place if it weren’t for a necromancer.”
“All magic can be used for good or evil.” Her smile is sorrowful. “You used it to save my life, didn’t you? And. . .” She looks at me. “You used it to save hers.”
Desmond stills. His gaze finds mine, and his expression softens. The panic ebbs into relief, and a single thought flows through the bond, so certain it makes my chest tighten. She’s alive. And whatever it cost me—I would do it a thousand times over.
Then they both stand.
Desmond strides through the chamber with unwavering purpose, as though his grief is now nothing more than a discarded cloak. He stops before a gigantic, arched door at the end of the cavern. Then he frowns. “It’s warded, so I can’t sense anything beyond it.”
Finnian groans. “Please, no more draugr. And no more traps, either. I don’t want to lose another finger.”
“If the chasm was the final test, the treasure should be beyond that door,” I tell them. We’re close. I feel it in my gut.
“I wish Nikolai were here,” Finnian says. “It’s warded thicker than a bog. What do we do? Touch it?”
I answer, “We check for—”
Auri touches the door.
“—traps.”
My stomach lodges into my throat, but by some miracle, the wards fall away like shimmering cobwebs. The door disappears, revealing a large chamber. Mage lights flare, and I draw a breath at the sight of the cache inside.
Ancient urns stand in tidy rows. Tools inlaid with silver and gold are arranged atop a stone table, and chalices gleam on pedestals. Coffins are set into the walls, undisturbed. Other raiders have never made it this far. Not until us.
I pinch myself just to be sure it’s all real.
Desmond, of course, looks at the engraved writing on the wall first. “This isn’t the king’s chamber.”
“So we’ll find even more treasure?” I grab an urn and pour the jewelry inside into my bottomless rucksack. Then I pause, staring at Desmond.
“What?” he asks.
“Aren’t you going to lecture me?” I tease him. “You know, call me greedy and sacrilegious?”
He laughs. “A deal is a deal. I’ll keep my remarks to myself.” Then he winks.
My face warms. I can’t help but remember how good he felt against me. How right it felt to kiss him.
“That better be it.” Auri gestures at another door at the end of the nobility’s chamber. Rubies the size of dove eggs encircle the doorknob. It’s odd for a door in a tomb to have a knob.
Auri reaches for it.
“Wait! Check for—”
An axe head on a polearm swings from a crevice in the ceiling. I freeze it in place as Auri jumps back. “Traps!” I finish. “Does no one listen to a word I say?”
I drop the axe and am rewarded with a stabbing pain in my head. I wince. No more magic. My mind has had it for today.
“Only humans would surround their material wealth with blades. And maybe goblins. I appreciate your vigilance, regardless,” Auri says.
“You’re welcome.”
She grabs the doorknob and rattles it. “It’s locked.”
“Morons.” Finnian chuckles. “All those wards and traps, and look at this. It’s just a keyhole.”
He’s right. In the center of the knob is a large, gold-inlaid plate bearing a single keyhole.
“That key likely lies in the possession of the Avedoran royal family,” Desmond says. “They may not even know what it is. Likely, the builders of this tomb didn’t imagine anyone would make it this far.”
Finnian slides his glove off. I hold my breath as he touches the keyhole. The lock clicks. With a gentle push, the door opens.
Stale air greets us. Then mage lights flare, and the chamber shines so brightly with gold that for a second, I’m blinded.
The floor is an expanse of grandiose black marble, dimmed by a fine layer of dust. Tapestries weave across the walls, scenes from battles and coronations long ago.
A tipped vase spills gold coins across the tiles like stars.
Jeweled goblets and silver relics are strewn about, mere discarded baubles amidst the greater splendor. Ornate weapons rest atop pedestals and racks. They gleam as if newly forged. Silken banners embroidered with forgotten royal insignias hang from the vaulted ceiling, untouched by time.
Finnian laughs, scooping his hands through chests of coins. Auri slowly walks the aisles like she’s establishing a perimeter, and Desmond. . . He’s watching me with the bright smile of someone who’s just watched another’s dream come true.
“I’ve done it,” I whisper. “We did it.” This is my way out. My freedom from duty. Then why don’t I feel relieved? Instead, the thought of leaving the guild fills me with regret. We’ve been through so much together. I can truthfully call them my friends.
I take one step into the treasure room, and something within me snaps. It punches my breath out of me, tearing through every bone as though ripping me apart. It hurts so gods-damned much. I cry out, doubling over as stars swarm my vision.
Behind me, Desmond groans and leans against the wall to stay upright. He staggers, his breathing too heavy.
Then the pain stops.
We stare at each other. I can’t feel him. Not a single thread of emotion weaves between us.
The vow has been fulfilled.
Desmond swallows. “You’ve done it. You can return home.” His expression is closed off. Unreadable. Without the bond, I can’t make heads or tails of it.
What if I didn’t return home? What if I stayed with the guild? Except Desmond’s never told me where he plans to go after we leave Olin’s tomb. Our paths might never cross again, and the thought is like a dagger through my gut.
“Bet you Rune has nothing on this!” Finnian calls out, draping himself in jewelry. “Do I look like a king yet, Auri?”
“You better get started,” Desmond says to me. “The treasure awaits.”
Nodding, I take a few more steps, look around, then finally start filling my rucksack. It would take days to empty the chamber.
Desmond examines some engraved tablets, grinning as he whispers forgotten tongues.
We cross paths a few times as I move on from pure silver cutlery to a tray of emerald jewelry to a statuette carved from lustrous jade.
Then I find a pink sapphire tiara that’s perfect for Evie.
It’s maybe the fourth or fifth time Desmond and I meet that I finally notice he’s looking for something.
Right, the whole point of this is that he’s after some relic.
“I’ll help,” I tell him. “As soon as I finish grabbing these embroidered cloths. They look like silk napkins. Do you think they’re worth anything? What are you looking for, anyway?”
He paces a bit further, stopping at a weapons rack. Then he moves on, resuming his slow search. “I appreciate the offer, but I think I know where it is.”
Upon finding some mother-of-pearl brooches, I forget what he said—until I look up and see him climbing the dais in the center of the chamber. There’s a long box atop it.
“Is that. . .” I follow Desmond up the dais, trepidation squeezing my lungs. “Olin’s coffin?”
He nods. “Technically, it’s a sarcophagus. The coffin is inside.”
I stop on the top step, hesitant to get closer. A strange energy emanates from it, different from Desmond’s necrotic power. Somehow, it’s worse, and a shudder races down my spine. My chest tightens, like I’m trapped underwater and can’t find my way to air. My skin chills as if sheathed in ice.
“Something’s wrong with it. Shouldn’t we leave it alone?” I ask.
Desmond reaches over the sarcophagus as if reading the energy. His brows knit, deep in concentration.
“Seriously, I think we should leave it be.”
He tilts his head, staring at it. “I’m going to open it.”
An anxious laugh bubbles out of me. “Open it? You? Stop messing with me, Desmond. I know you’d never,” I curl my fingers into mock quotes, “disturb the dead.”
He doesn’t reply.