Chapter 44
Iwas absolutely livid.
Livid, and yet... this anger hurt. It sat heavy in my chest, dense and suffocating, as I stared at the curtains rippling faintly near the floor.
I couldn't hear what was happening beyond them, but then again, it was impossible to hear much of anything over the chorus of moans and cries saturating the air.
I hadn't anticipated this. That Lady Elyndra had once been his lover. That they so clearly still carried something between them. And that this quest of ours to break this damned bond would somehow include a stop at a brothel so Rìan could scratch a three-hundred-year-old itch.
I wanted to scream.
Why should I care what he did with Elyndra? Who wouldn't want something to do with Elyndra? Gods, after five minutes in her company, even I’d nearly been tempted.
I drew in a slow breath, then another, trying to steady the furious pounding of my heart.
I had to be sensible. I forced myself to focus on the useful part of all this.
Rìan had carried me across the wards because Lady Elyndra had altered them so he could pass. She'd betrayed the Full Circle—which made her an enemy of Elantis. I'd stumbled upon a traitor.
And that traitor was most likely entangled with him at this very moment.
I ground my teeth so hard that something cracked in my jaw.
I couldn't stop thinking about the way she'd touched him. The way he'd wound her hair between his fingers, something raw and aching crossing his face—an expression I'd never thought him capable of.
“Alright, poppet?” a breathless voice called.
I spun around.
The female who'd shown us to the room—or at least, I thought it was her; it was hard to tell beneath the veil—was pinned against a wall, a male pressed against her.
Her robes were shoved up around her hips, one smooth leg hooked around his waist as he drove into her, his trousers bunched around his ankles.
She made a theatrical show of moaning before rolling her eyes and winking at me.
I had no idea what to do.
She seemed to be waiting for an answer, but I couldn't think past the wet, rhythmic slap of flesh.
“I... I...” I stammered.
“He found a companion?” Her eyes flicked toward the curtain and back to me, visibly disappointed.
“I... yes.” A lump formed in my throat.
She nodded sympathetically. “Shame.”
She regarded me for a moment, thoughtful despite the fact that the male behind her chose that exact moment for a particularly forceful thrust. The back of her head struck the wall with a thud. She barely seemed to notice.
She jerked her chin toward the mass of writhing bodies. “Pick one. On the house.”
“Oh. No.” I immediately backed away.
The male suddenly went rigid against her. A long, ragged moan escaped him before his entire body slackened. He sagged against her, resting his forehead on her shoulder as he drew several deep breaths.
She patted him on the backside before unhooking her leg from his waist. Her robes slipped back into place as she straightened. The male immediately draped a possessive arm around her shoulders and blinked over at me, his expression glassy with satisfaction.
“There’s Ambrosia,” she suggested mildly. The male reached for a glass resting on a nearby ledge. The jewel-bright liquid inside fizzed delicately as he took a long sip.“It helps... loosen inhibitions.” She waggled her brows and cast a pointed glance downward.
Unfortunately, my eyes followed.
The male’s manhood was on full display, erect and glistening. I immediately looked away. I wanted to sink straight through the floor. The female's smile only widened, apparently taking my accidental glance as enthusiasm rather than abject mortification.
“I don't think so,” I said quickly.
“It’s a beautiful vintage,” she insisted. “Very expensive. Very rare. Imported from Pelaga—we only just received it today. They say it's the High Lord's favorite.” She winked again.
“Thank you, but no.” I took another step backward.
“Suit yourself,” she called after me.
The male was already busy again, his hands fumbling with the fastenings of her robe.
I started toward the stairway at the far end of the room. It seemed impossibly distant, separated from me by a sea of limbs and sweaty flesh.
I stopped suddenly.
Rìan had ordered me back to the room.
Ordered me.
As though I were one of his tongueless servants, expected to obey without question.
I bristled, whirling back toward the corner.
The female was now bent over a tabletop, her robe hanging open and her breasts pressed flat against the wood as the male fumbled with the mass of fabric gathered around her hips.
“Just take it off,” she panted over her shoulder.
I stopped in front of her. “You said we would get a hot meal.”
The sound of tearing fabric answered before she could.
She lifted her head, her eyes dark with lust. “Down the hall. To the right,” she rasped.
I set off immediately, but not fast enough. The cry of pleasure that followed me when her companion finally found home was unmistakable.
Was that what was happening in the shadowed alcove right now? Did Rìan have Elyndra bent over one of those cushions? Were his hands on her? His fingers tracing the curve of her spine the way they had traced—
NO.
I slammed the thought out of my head.
This place was getting to me. Along with the exhaustion. The hunger. The lack of sleep. I wasn’t thinking clearly.
At the edge of the room, two hallways branched away into the darkness. I stopped, my thoughts muddled by the constant noise behind me. Down the hall to the right, the female had said.
Did she mean the hallway on the right?
I peered down the corridor uncertainly. An arm suddenly closed around my waist, and I caught the sweet, fruity scent of the Ambrosia liqueur that had been offered to me earlier. Without even bothering to look, I pushed free of the inebriated male's grasp and hurried down the hallway to my right.
It was lined with closed doors. I slowed as I passed them, searching for some sign of a kitchen. Some mouth-watering aroma. Some indication that I was heading in the right direction.
Nothing.
I tried a handle. Locked.
Anger bubbled inside me.
I hated him.
I hated that he'd brought us here. Hated that I was bound to him. Hated that he'd seen my worst memory and, worse still, that I'd been forced to surrender my most cherished one to save him.
I tried another door. Locked. Then another. Locked again.
I'd already lost so much because of that monster. My true mate. My home in Solmire. And while I wandered the halls of a brothel searching for food, he was off reuniting with his lover.
The thought ripped through me with such force I could barely breathe.
My magic responded instantly, tearing free with savage eagerness and flooding every inch of me.
It scented my anguish and descended upon it with ravenous hunger.
One by one, it devoured my emotions. The anger faded first, followed by the ache, until everything felt distant and strangely muted.
The tension in my shoulders and chest loosened. When I glanced down at my hands, I saw that I was glowing.
I stopped before another door. If Lady Elyndra was the only person in Illyra capable of wielding magic, would she have bothered warding the locks? Or would a simple key have been enough?
I reached inward and touched my power. It responded immediately, obedient and well-fed. Tilting my head, I sent a flick of magic toward the lock. With a soft click, it opened.
Apparently she hadn't bothered with wards after all.
I turned the handle and pushed the door open. Nothing. No sign of a kitchen. My stomach grumbled loudly in complaint.
I moved to the next door. And the next.
Each time, I sent a thread of magic through the keyhole, and each time the lock clicked open. But there was never anything beyond. Some rooms appeared to be private parlors. Others were crammed with old furniture beneath dust sheets. All were dark and quiet.
I stopped before the final door. I reached for the lock with my power—and hit a wall.
Not a physical wall. A wall of magic.
Wards.
Frowning, I examined the door more closely. I reached for my magic once more, sending it spilling across the invisible barrier. It glided over the ward, tracing its edges until the entire construct stood revealed before me in shimmering silver.
A dim flicker of curiosity stirred. My magic devoured that, too.
In a single breath, I tore through the ward as easily as brushing aside a cobweb.
Wrapping my fingers around the handle, I pushed open the door. The light from the hallway barely reached beyond the threshold, leaving the room beyond cloaked in shadow. I raised a hand and a small fae light flickered into existence.
Your magic is limitless. Aedric's voice drifted up from the depths of memory.
A grin pulled at my lips. Drawing my arm back, I hurled the fae light into the darkness. The moment it left my hand, it burst apart into thousands of glittering pinpricks of light that scattered like stars, illuminating the room all at once.
Silk draped from the ceiling in rich hues of purple, gold, and crimson—less like a room and more like some lavish royal tent.
I stepped farther inside, and movement caught my eye.
Immediately, I whirled toward the figure, only to realize it was my own reflection staring back at me from a large burnished mirror hanging on the wall.
I frowned. It was strange to find a mirror in such poor condition when every other one I'd seen in Illyra had been polished to perfection.
I drew closer. The frame was tarnished bronze, its surface darkened with age, and it looked so ancient and out of place that I found myself wondering why it was here at all.
As I approached, my glow intensified. In the murky reflection, my skin was positively luminous. The glass itself was hazy and discolored, smoky around the edges and marred by darker stains that spread across its surface like bruises.
I stopped directly in front of it. Inside me, my magic went still. Waiting. Expectant. Excited.
Slowly, I lifted a hand and reached toward the glass.
The surface rippled.
I snatched my fingers back. But the disturbance only spread, widening across the mirror in concentric waves. My reflection blurred, then faded entirely, revealing something else beyond the glass.
Another room.
It was nearly identical to this one, yet where this chamber was draped in crimson and gold, the one beyond shimmered with silks of turquoise and silver.
My breath caught. This was the Looking Glass—I knew it instantly. The one Rìan had asked Elyndra about.
My thoughts reeled. Elyndra had lied. She'd told Rìan the mirror had shattered, and yet here it stood, hidden away inside a warded room. Which meant the chamber visible beyond the glass had to be the other brothel in Pelaga.
She'd lied about that, too. She was still conducting business there.
My gaze dropped to the mirror's frame as another realization struck me. The female downstairs had said they'd only just received the Ambrosia from the Tidelands. How would that have been possible if there wasn't still an open channel between the realms?
A slow smile tugged at my mouth.
I'd found it.
Our passage to the second well.