Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
Staying out of the way is the easiest way to live another day.
RIVEN
The pancakes are cold and rubbery before Celine’s fork makes a single trip to her mouth. Her brown eyes are far away, focused on nothing as her mind transports her somewhere else. Somewhere far away from this realm and far away from me.
“They won’t find us here,” I say.
She glances at me. “Celestial magic operates on a different frequency than witch magic. Your wards won’t work against angelic runes.”
That’s what she’s worried about. I lift my chin. “Magic or no magic, my home isn’t accessible by normal means. And it’s invisible.”
“What about location spells?” Alistair asks. “Or transportation charms. If someone gets a hold of your witch—”
“They won’t,” I say, my voice tight. “Hyacinth knows how to avoid detection.”
“Okay,” Celine says. “Say you’re right and they never find us. We can’t hide forever. Your food supply isn’t endless, and we need to get home.”
Frustration curls in my gut.
She’s right. And I don’t like it.
I never should have allowed myself to get sucked into this blood feud between her and her father. When S’lach approached me, the job sounded simple: psychological warfare followed by an assassination. I didn’t intend to sign my own death sentence.
“Do you have weapons here?” Luca asks.
“Why?” I shoot him a hard look. “So you can kill me? It won’t do you any good.”
The basilisk hates me. Like most monster shifters, he was born and bred to loathe veydran. I can’t even blame him for it. It’s easier to bite the puppet that guards you than the unseen hand pulling the strings.
He pushes up from the table, fists clenched. “I don’t need weapons to kill you.”
“Perhaps.” I study the wood grain calmly, then raise my eyes to meet his. “You do need me to get off this realm, though.”
A muscle in Luca’s cheek ticks, and he curses.
And he’s not the only one staring at me. Malach’s green eyes are sharper than flint. I tilt my head and stare right back. His expression is potent—a quiet, impenetrable loathing that sucks all the air out of the room and goes deeper than the arena.
“Tricking the portal is our main issue,” Ciprian says, ignoring our tense standoff. “We can sneak or fight our way there, but if it spits Luca out, there’s no point.”
“What about a spell?” Celine asks. “If the portal is enchanted to block unbound monsters, can’t we use similar magic to disguise Luca?”
I frown. “I won’t put Hyacinth at risk.”
“Do you want her to live the rest of her life in this place?” Celine asks gently. “We could take her with us and help her create a good life on Earth. A supernatural prison is no place for a teenager, Riven.”
She’s judging me. They all are. But they don’t understand, and they never will.
My anger overflows before I can choke it down. “Did the mansion make your abuse easier to swallow?” I demand. “I’m sure you were thinking about what a wonderful environment you lived in while he beat you black and blue.”
“Don’t forget bloody.” Celine throws her arm out to hold Malach back. “I’m not trying to antagonize or manipulate you; I know you want to protect her. And despite what you think of me, I would never want to see a child hurt.”
I dip my chin stiffly. “I apologize.”
“That,” Ciprian says to the room at large, “was the worst apology I’ve ever heard.” He leans lazily against the glass wall—the picture of ease. It’s an act. The murder in his black eyes is impossible to miss.
Perhaps I overreacted. I don’t think Celine is capable of the cruelty that scarred her childhood, but keeping Hyacinth safe is the only promise I’ve ever made that I’ve successfully kept. Failing now is unthinkable.
“We could call for backup,” Alistair says. “I’m assuming there’s a way to communicate off realm. There must be with all the blood tourists.”
I nod slowly. “It would require sneaking into the arena.”
Celine frowns. “I don’t want to put anyone else at risk. Any backup we call would have to come here to free us. That would get messy.”
“My family will be searching for me,” Ciprian says. “Sheena will have raised the alarm by now. If I contacted them—”
“Then they would come immediately, and someone might not make it back home,” Celine interrupts him. “Could you live with that? Because I’m not sure I could. Your family is already grieving, Ciprian.”
His face falls, and he glances at his feet. “It’s an option,” he says firmly. “One we can’t rule out. They’re powerful.”
My belly twists. If I hadn’t taken this job, would any of this have happened?
S’lach would have found another way to torment his daughter, but I wouldn’t have been part of it. I wouldn’t be forced to see the lines on Celine’s face spread as she worries about staying alive. And I wouldn’t be second-guessing every miserable choice I’ve made that brought me to this point.
“There might be another way,” I say before I can talk myself out of it.
They look at me, eerily in sync, and my fingers twitch.
“What is it?” Celine’s eyes are wary.
I shake my head. “Not until I’ve thought it through and done some research.”
She stiffens. “You’re asking me to trust you.”
“I am.”
She’ll say no. Of course she’ll say no. There’s no reality where Celine gives me the benefit of the doubt. It was absurd to even bring it up.
“How long, Riven?” She studies her ragged nails, then meets my eyes. “I don’t do well with secrets. Or patience.”
I’m stunned, and I’m sure it shows on my face. “I’ll be as fast as I can,” I say. Striding to the hook embedded in the wall, I retrieve my cloak, my cheeks flooding with heat.
For the first time in years, I’m thankful my real face is hidden.
“Wait, you’re leaving now?” Celine pushes back from the table and hurries to my side as the others watch.
“I’ll be back before dark,” I tell her. “Stay inside and you’ll be safe.”
Celine opens her mouth to argue, but I squeeze the stone in my pocket and disappear before she or my better judgment can change my mind.
The cold on the mountain sinks into my bones, giving them an ache that belongs in a body much older than mine. My boots dig into the loosely packed ice pellets, each step ending with a sharp crunch.
Why am I doing this? It’s a terrible idea, and I know it, but I don’t stop walking or turn around. The quicker I get there, the quicker I can leave.
The hut, nestled high in an ancient, scarred tree, looks like it always does. Desolate and barren, the physical embodiment of loneliness. Smoke curls from the chimney, and I know if I take a deep breath, I’ll be flooded with the pungent smell of burning herbs.
Just do it. Gritting my teeth, I climb the handholds carved into the meat of the trunk.
They’re shallow and crusted with frost. By the time I reach the top, I’ve nearly fallen to my death half a dozen times.
How she stands to live here, warmed only by her magic and a weak fire, I’ll never understand.
Maybe it has something to do with all the hallucinogenic plants she feeds to the flames.
She knows I’m here, but I knock anyway. The door swings open with a whine, and the air gets stuck in my throat. The smell is worse than the last time I was here.
“I saw your arrival in the bones,” she says.
Her hair hangs to her hips, woven with twigs and twisted clusters of herbs. There’s dried blood crusted beneath her nails, and her hands tremor in a way she’s no longer able to hide.
A dozen emotions roll through me as I look at her, and none of them are good.
Rue Amaranth used to be beautiful.
Now, she’s as gnarled and chewed up as this unforgiving realm.
“Hello, Rue,” I say, grateful for the second time in an hour that my face hides emotion.
She gestures for me to come in, and I hesitate on the small balcony. “We could talk out here,” I suggest. It’s damn cold, but if I go inside, I’ll be high in minutes. There are days when I would be happy to sink into the smoke and forget, but today isn’t one of them. I need to be alert.
Rue shakes her head. “If you want my help, Riven, you’ll stop acting as if asking for it disgusts you.” A spark of irritation flashes through her faded blue eyes. “You’ll sit by my fire and drink my tea and act nice. Then I’ll tell you about the bonds.”
My skin prickles. Sometimes I forget how powerful she is. It’s easy to see the creature she’s become and nothing more, but there was a time when things were different—when Rue Amaranth was a name that commanded respect. And fear.
I step inside. The floorboards of the hut groan beneath my feet, and the rocky ground is visible through the cracks. While there’s heat from the fire, the smoke is so thick it burns my eyes and nose.
“You seek answers,” Rue says.
I nod, sinking onto the low stool by the fire. “Is there a way to trick the portal off realm? Some way to circumvent or imitate a monster binding?”
Rue tuts, pouring tea into a chipped cup and pressing it into my hand. “Always in a rush, Riven. You should think less about what you want to know and more about the circumstances that brought you here.”
My toe twitches inside my boot, the only physical sign of impatience I’m willing to risk.
Rue loves to ramble about cause, effect, and voices in the wind—romanticizing the old ways until we’re both exhausted. But I don’t have time for that. I’m trying to save lives, including my own. And she owes me.
“If I’m always in a rush, then you’re always in denial,” I snap. “You haven’t even asked about your daughter.”
Tea sloshes over the side of her cup, soaking her fingers. If it hurts, she doesn’t show it. “Hyacinth Belladonna is as she always will be until the planets align and the winking sun spreads fear in the hearts of the courageous.”
I roll my eyes. “Should I tell her that before or after I mention that her mom’s home is one stiff breeze away from turning into a pile of splinters on the mountaintop?”
“You’re angry with me,” she says.