Chapter 46
The cries tugged at the edges of my consciousness.
My eyes felt impossibly heavy as they cracked open, the room around me little more than a blur of indistinct shapes. Somewhere beyond the door, voices rose and fell.
Gods above. How was that still going on? The Fae in Illyra were utterly depraved.
The thought drifted lazily through my mind before slipping away again as my eyes fluttered shut.
A familiar scent washed over me.
Smoke. Aedric's scent. For one blissfully drowsy moment, I nearly smiled as I nuzzled deeper into the blankets.
My eyes snapped open.
Smoke.
A scream ripped through the building, the sound slicing through the last remnants of sleep as I shot upright in bed. Not screams of pleasure. Screams of terror and pain.
My pulse began to hammer as my gaze dropped to the crack beneath the door, where bright orange light flickered across the floorboards, shifting in a way that had nothing to do with dawn or fae lights. A thick veil of smoke gathered against the ceiling.
Fire.
I threw back the blankets and stumbled from the bed, dropping immediately beside Rìan.
"Rìan!"
I seized his shoulder and shook him harder.
"Rìan—!"
I cried out as my head snapped backward, fingers yanking painfully at my hair. The point of an iron dagger hovered against the hollow of my throat, close enough that I could feel its heat against my skin.
His eyes were distant and dangerous, caught somewhere between sleep and violence. He blinked, recognition returning to his face. "Eidra—?"
Another scream tore through the building. In an instant, he took in the smoke gathering beneath the ceiling, the thunder of pounding feet, the splintering crash of collapsing wood. Beneath it all rose an unmistakable, hungry roar.
He surged to his feet and crossed the room at once, reaching the window while I scrambled to shove my feet into my soggy boots.
I hurried to Rìan's side. He held the curtain aside, peering into the street below where soldiers filled the roadway in orderly ranks, most standing motionless with weapons drawn while the entire front line held one arm extended toward the brothel.
Fire poured continuously from their outstretched palms, great streams of magic slamming mercilessly into the building, feeding the inferno already consuming it.
The glow of the flames illuminated the soldiers' faces, revealing the raised bumps patterned across their cheeks, temples, and foreheads.
Dheren soldiers.
A keening wail rose above the screams and the roar of the fire, drawing my attention to a flash of blue forcing its way through the ranks of soldiers.
Lady Elyndra.
She fell to her knees, hands outstretched before a figure standing at the centre of the front line—a figure clad in a seamless bodysuit of blood-red leather that clung to every curve of her body, the same shade as the crimson hair whipping around her face in the fire-heated wind.
The circlet covering one eye gleamed darkly, fire dancing across the reflection on its surface.
Calantha.
Terror crashed through me.
While Elyndra pleaded and the building burned, the corners of her mouth remained curved upward in a smile that turned my blood cold.
Rìan swore softly beneath his breath. He wrenched me away from the window, hauling me across the room toward the door. As we passed, he snatched his cloak from the back of a chair and swept it around us both, the heavy fabric still damp from our crossing of the flats.
By now the smoke was overwhelming. It coated the back of my throat with every breath.
Rìan reached for the handle and jerked his hand back the instant his skin touched the metal, hissing between his teeth. Wrapping the damp edge of his cloak around his hand, he wrenched the door open.
Heat crashed into the room with enough force to make me flinch.
The corridor beyond glowed with pulsing orange light, smoke rolling through it in thick waves as flames licked up the walls further down the hall, curling and blackening the wallpaper ahead of their advance.
His grip was bruising as he dragged me through the doorway.
We passed a room already engulfed in flames, and from somewhere beyond came the unmistakable sound of a woman sobbing.
Her cries pursued us down the corridor, desperate beneath the roar of the fire, but Rìan didn't slow.
Ahead of us, another bedroom door burst open and two naked Fae stumbled into the hallway, coughing violently as they fought through the smoke toward the staircase.
My lungs burned now despite the cloak Rìan kept drawn over our faces. By the time we reached the stairs, my eyes were streaming.
Then I looked down.
Horror punched the air from my chest.
The chamber where dozens of bodies had writhed together only hours earlier was almost unrecognizable beneath the fire.
The delicate silk hangings had become fuel for the blaze, carrying the flames through the room with terrifying speed.
Charred forms lay crumpled amidst the destruction, blackened and oozing where they’d burned and died.
Others were still alive, crawling through the thick haze on their hands and knees, hacking and choking as they dragged themselves forward toward exits that had already been enveloped by the fire.
A scream tore through the room as a woman emerged from the smoke.
Flames raced across the veil covering her face and climbed the fabric wrapped around her body, engulfing her completely.
She staggered blindly through the common room, clawing at herself, her hands beating frantically at the fire consuming her sleeves and skirts.
The screams broke off abruptly as her legs folded beneath her. A moment later she pitched forward into the flames and did not move again.
Behind us, part of the balcony railing gave way with a deafening crack, sparks exploding upward as it fell.
I couldn't move. I was frozen where I stood, dragged back to Solmire, to dragonfire and a crumbling citadel and the excruciating agony of being burned alive.
Rìan wound an arm around my waist and practically carried me down the stairs. "Move."
A sudden bang! resounded somewhere below, followed by the crash of wood giving way. Then came another sound, rhythmic and purposeful.
Footsteps.
The soldiers poured through the burning doorways in disciplined ranks, utterly unaffected by the heat and flames surrounding them. Around the room, cries of relief broke out. Survivors stumbled toward them through the smoke, coughing and weeping as they reached out in desperate hope.
The soldiers responded by raising their hands. Magic erupted from their palms.
The cries of relief curdled into ear-shattering screams.
And then Calantha stepped into the room—as casually as if she were arriving at a garden party.
Elyndra followed at her heels. Her veil had been torn away revealing her soot-stained face, wide eyes darting frantically across the ruined chamber.
"No!" Her cry of despair rose above the chaos. "This wasn't what we agreed!"
"You're harboring an enemy of the realm," Calantha replied calmly, as though they were discussing the weather rather than the slaughter unfolding around them. "Measures must be taken. Including eliminating any possibility of escape."
Elyndra seized her arm. "What have you done?" she shrieked. "You weren't supposed to burn it! You weren't supposed to kill anyone!"
Elyndra's expression crumpled. Calantha merely shoved her aside.
Elyndra stumbled backward into the wall. The trailing folds of her silk robes ignited instantly, but she didn't seem to notice. Tears spilled down her filthy cheeks as she stared at the carnage around her, at the bodies littering the floor, at the people still screaming amidst the flames.
Calantha, meanwhile, lifted her gaze and it landed on Rìan.
The effect was immediate. A smile spread slowly across her face like an oilslick, transforming her expression into something openly predatory as vicious triumph settled into her remaining eye.
When she saw me beside him, her smile vanished.
I watched her gaze move between us, taking in every detail—his arm around my waist, mine slung around his neck—and saw the exact moment understanding snapped into place.
Her expression contorted with incandescent fury.
The next moment seemed to happen in slow motion. Rìan moved from beneath the cloak, shielding me with his body as Calantha's fingers rose toward the circlet concealing her eye. Her fingertips brushed the dark glass at the exact moment Elyndra lifted her gaze and locked eyes with him.
For one suspended heartbeat there was only the two of them, separated by little more than a few yards and yet divided by centuries of betrayal, longing, and regret.
The look that crossed Elyndra's face was devastating.
There were apologies in it. So many apologies.
Apologies for lowering her wards. For sending word to Flame. For believing she could somehow control the consequences of what she'd set into motion.
But beneath them all lingered something older, infinitely more painful—the wreckage of a love that had once run deep enough to destroy them both.
Tearing away from the wall, Elyndra hurled herself forward, flames trailing from her burning robes as she thrust both arms outward. Power erupted from her, so immense that the air itself seemed to buckle beneath it, reality groaning in protest as something vast and ancient seized hold of the world.
The fire froze.
Flames stilled where they climbed the walls. Embers hung suspended in the air. Smoke ceased its restless billowing. A falling beam hung halfway through its collapse, while patrons in the midst of running, screaming, weeping, and dying became statues caught between one heartbeat and the next.
She screamed, the sound raw with rage and pain as the flames consuming her robes remained trapped against her skin.
Her entire body trembled beneath the strain as her flesh burned, but still she held the spell.
Held the fire. Held the falling beams. Held an entire world motionless through sheer force of will as she stared across the devastation at the male she'd betrayed.
The male she’d loved.
Go. The command needed no words.
We didn't waste the moment. The cloak fell to the ground in a heap as we leaped down the remaining stairs hand in hand.
My gaze darted toward the archway leading into the right-hand corridor, and Rìan changed course without hesitation, dragging me with him.
Flames wreathed the entrance, yet we passed through unharmed, slipping between tongues of fire suspended in time.
The corridor stretched on before us. We pressed on, every instinct in me screaming that we were too slow, that at any moment the magic would shatter and the inferno around us would roar back to life.
And worse—Calantha would reach us.
Every passing second was paid for with Elyndra's own suffering.
We skidded to a stop before the door and I dove instantly for the magic inside me, panic clawing at my throat. What if it didn't answer? What if it abandoned me now, when failure meant death?
The thought had barely formed before the door exploded inward beneath the force of Rìan's boot.
Elyndra had already lifted the wards.
We rushed inside, the air mercifully cooler and untouched by the fire ravaging the rest of the brothel. And there, waiting for us, stood the mirror.
The surface shivered as we approached, revealing the room on the other side. An open doorway to salvation.
Rìan never broke stride. He planted a hand firmly between my shoulder blades and propelled me forward, leaving me no chance to hesitate as I stumbled into the mirror's shifting surface.
Instead of striking solid glass, I passed through something impossibly fluid. Cool liquid light washed over me, and for one disorienting instant there was nothing but swirling color.
I stumbled out onto the other side and into the Court of Tides, just as a thought slammed into me with enough force to gut me entirely.
The bone knife.
In the chaos of the fire and the soldiers and Calantha, I’d left it behind.
I spun around so quickly the floors tilted beneath me.
The mirror still stood intact, its surface shivering gently as Rìan stepped through after me. Beyond the glass, I could still see the room we’d fled, but it looked markedly different now than it had only moments before.
Elyndra's magic had failed.
The frozen world we’d left behind had begun moving once more. Flames crawled freely across the carpets, climbing through the doorway and into the chamber.
A strangled sound escaped me as I threw myself back toward the mirror, but Rìan moved faster. Without a word, he drew one of his iron daggers and drove it into the centre of the rippling surface.
The blade struck with a deafening crack.
Fractures exploded outward from the point of impact, racing across the enchanted glass in a web of shimmering lines before the entire mirror shattered. Glass spilled across the floor.
For a brief instant, firelight danced across the scattered shards, each one a tiny window into the burning hellscape we'd left behind. Then, one by one, the reflections sputtered and died.
I sank to my knees amidst the broken glass, staring numbly at the ruined remains of the portal as the full magnitude of my mistake settled over me.
The bone knife had been the key to everything.
To the prophecy.
To the wells.
To breaking the bond.
To Aedric.
And I’d left it behind.
A shadow fell across me, and something landed heavily in my lap. Blinking, I looked down. The familiar bone hilt stared back at me. For a moment, all I could do was gape at the carved eight-pointed star.
Slowly, disbelievingly, I lifted my head.
Rìan stood over me, soot streaking his sweat-damp face, his chest still rising and falling from our sprint through the burning brothel. Exhaustion and fury warred openly across his features, but neither could eclipse the wild intensity burning in his eyes.
"Don't ever let this fucking thing out of your sight again."