Chapter 36
Rydian stands beside me, concealed beneath the shadows of his hood with Ivy and Ren hovering nearby. Four weeks have passed since we stole the map. Still, we haven’t found a single passageway that could lead us to my mother.
“You’re sure there won’t be any guards tonight?” Rydian asks.
Ren stalks forward with a glare, shoving his dark hair away from his face only to stop a few feet away. The throne room is bathed in complete darkness except for the dim orbs floating above our heads, only bright enough to view our expressions.
King Elion left the castle today, leaving us four days to walk the passages. It makes me wonder where he could be going that requires his presence so often.
And tonight, we’ll be breaking into his private chambers after Ren confirmed that the only wards there are the ones similar to his archives. A chilling unease crawls up my spine, but we should be in and out within ten minutes.
Orin waits outside—concealed in the Veil—watching for anyone coming in through the front, while Ivy and Ren are to guard the doors in the throne room.
Ren’s deep voice quietly echoes in the chamber. “Yes, I’m sure. I just did a perimeter check. They’re mostly focused on his archives right now, but there will be two posted in his private garden near the path you’ll walk down. If you stay in the Veil, they won’t be a problem.”
Ren pivots, holding his palms out in front of him, and the stone on either side of the entryway creates a solid wall over the throne room doors, sealing us inside.
“What are you doing?” I ask quietly.
“I must admit,” Ivy mumbles, stepping to my right, “the Stone Shapers are incredible. I’ve never seen anyone actually use it before though.”
“Don’t feed his ego,” I mumble, leaving her to chuckle quietly.
“I’m just making sure that no one comes in and discovers us.
I’ll reverse it once we’re done,” Ren explains, a hint of amusement lacing his tone before he faces us with a controlled expression, eyeing Ivy.
“If that impresses you, you should see what I can do against a wall.” He smirks, gray eyes briefly darting to mine.
My brows shoot up and I glance at Ivy, who has her arms crossed.
“Not interested,” she clips, turning sharply.
Ren chuckles, moving his gaze away from me, and strides to the back of the room. The door sits to the left, the one Elion uses to get to his chambers, only now it’s sealed shut. I flick my wrist, the orbs dying, leaving us to adjust to the darkened space once again.
My heart lurches to my throat when I’m gently tugged back by my wrist. Rydian gazes down at me, a soft smirk playing on the corner of his mouth before leaning down, brushing his lips against the shell of my ear.
“Is there a reason you’re avoiding me? I’ve missed you…” he says quietly, pulling back just enough to read my expression.
“I haven’t… been avoiding you,” I say, the words tumbling out.
Then my face warms with embarrassment because I have been mildly avoiding him. Even though I’ve comfortably shared his bed almost every night since we arrived from Nymara—drawn to him like static in a storm.
But my emotions remain locked up, away from him, regardless of us frequently tangled in his sheets as the days go on.
I’m afraid I’m only setting myself up for failure, though, after realizing just how much he makes my chest ache. It leaves me no choice but to put distance between us… emotionally.
Something he’s seemed to notice.
Only because whatever’s building in my chest—the way I feel about him—is different. Different than what I typically feel for males of any race, which is pretty close to nothing. I don’t know exactly when I began to feel this way but I did, and I can’t seem to stop it from growing.
King Elion would use it against me, slicing through me in every way possible to get me to yield to him. I’m not entirely sure I could live with myself if something were to happen to Rydian, and it makes me want to flee from Elderheim. And that terrifies me.
But Rydian’s warmth toward me hasn’t wavered—steady and calm in a way that’s both admirable and incredibly frustrating.
“No? Then what is it?” he asks, amusement flashing in his eyes before they turn heated, certainly distracting me from whatever I’m about to say.
“We just… just need to find my mother,” I exhale, scrambling for the right words, but it’s true. My focus is on her. “That’s all.”
He holds me firm at the low part of my back and softly pushes my dark braid over my shoulder with a low, disbelieving grumble. My breath catches in my throat with how close his lips come to mine, and for a moment, everything disappears.
“Well, I’ll be here when you’re done avoiding me. We’re in this together, remember?” he murmurs, sliding his other hand behind my neck, tilting my head up. Still, I find myself stepping out of his embrace with a frustrated scowl, inching back.
“Stop looking at me like that. We need to hurry. Now’s not the time for… whatever that is,” I grumble, pointing to his heated, hungry gaze before turning on my heel.
But not before his hand shoots out, his fingers curling at the base of my neck to forcefully tug me into him again. A gasp leaves me, and within a single beat, his mouth crashes into mine, devouring every part of me as if he’s been starving and nothing has satiated his hunger until now.
The dim heat that was consuming my body before is now a full-blown fire as I melt into him—fuck, what is he doing to me?
His tongue slips past my lips, his taste so consuming that it alters my reality. A small, breathy gasp brushes the air, leaving me to ache all over again. Then an unfamiliar longing forms at the base of my neck before I finally come to my senses, realizing that we currently have an audience.
“We… need to get going. We don’t have long,” I mutter, my breath coming out in shallow pants.
“I’m inclined to agree. I need more than five minutes to worship you. How do you want it tonight? On my knees, taking my time over every inch of you, or wrapped around you, reminding you exactly who you belong to?” He gives me a small grin. Yet the way he says those words has my core heating.
My mouth falls open, but when I don’t respond—unable to form a single word—he places a gentle kiss on my temple with a light chuckle.
“Later then,” he mumbles in the Veil before releasing me to join the others, leaving me to close my eyes and catch my breath. My poor attempt at finding any sort of control before following him to the door where Ren and Ivy wait in silence.
But I don’t miss how Ren looks when I approach—a flicker of annoyance passing between us as he clenches his jaw, straight to Rydian.
He quickly composes himself, hiding whatever was there behind his perfectly trained mask.
I know he’s not fond of Rydian—only here because of me—and the tension between the two of them could be cut with a knife.
It’s stifling.
Ivy steps forward, standing near the large steel door, then faces me.
“When you get inside, see if you can find any more passages that could only be accessed in his chambers in case they’re not on the map.
Look for hidden documents or even a journal if you can, anything that could lead to Queen Elynor. ”
This suddenly feels like stealing the map all over again, but I nod anyway and glance at the door, noticing two counter runes etched onto it.
It counters the five locking runes going up the edge of the frame.
That should give us at least an hour in case we need it, but I suspect Ren will clear it before we leave.
Rydian turns to me, making sure my cloak is secure. My face heats when his fingers brush against my collarbone. “I’ll go first in case there are guards in the corridor, so stay behind me. I don’t want you getting caught in the middle of it in case something goes wrong,” he says.
“She’ll be fine,” Ren grumbles.
Rydian’s eyes narrow, giving the captain a deliberate once-over. Ivy’s brows shoot up, and then she glances between us before sighing with a shake of her head, walking off to subtly peek out the windows.
“You think I don’t know that?” Rydian asks, voice low in warning. Ren only scans him with a smirk, as if he’s sizing up the king to fight. Did he forget about what happened in the clearing?
“You act like you don’t. Why don’t you cut the protective king act and stop hovering?
She’s capable of doing what she needs to.
” Ren’s words are smooth, almost casual, as he remains expressionless.
I suddenly find myself wishing I could hear what he’s thinking or what Rydian’s not saying in the silence that follows.
Rydian straightens, glancing down at me. “Do I hover, little fawn? Do you feel like I’m being overprotective?” he asks in that low, heated way of his, and I can’t help the flush that rises on the back of my neck, suddenly flustered.
“No, now stop. Both of you. Now’s not the time to argue,” I grind out, throwing them an icy glare. “We need to hurry before someone catches us.”
“See?” Rydian replies. “I’m not hovering.”
Ren chuckles, a low, menacing sound that echoes off the walls, but I catch the way his eyes gleam with something he’s clearly choosing not to say.
I glare, holding my breath, but he refuses to meet my gaze.
I’m praying to the Fates they don’t start a brawl in the middle of the throne room. That’s the last thing we need.
“I don’t think she needs you questioning what she can or can’t handle. She’s a trained assassin, not a helpless little fawn,” Ren mocks quietly, then opens the door for us. “Stop treating her like one. It’s insulting.”
“To you or her?” Rydian asks, striding toward the door.
“I’m literally right here,” I groan, knowing that whatever I say won’t stop either of them from bickering. There’s nothing like putting two rivals in a room together, and the only thing keeping them from killing each other is an heir to a realm she’s not even familiar with.
Although Rydian holds his tongue, I know Ren’s mocking tone annoyed him by how thick the air became in a matter of seconds. He steps inside the darkened corridor with a smirk on his face, walking past without so much as a second glance.
I face Ren. “We can’t afford to argue, not when we have a mission to complete. Can you cut it out until we can figure out where she is?” I sigh, clenching my fists. “I don’t want to be here anymore than you do.”
His only response is staring down his nose in complete silence, then breaking his gaze long enough to nod to the door, urging me to leave. Silence.
It takes everything in me not to groan in frustration, knowing that I have to remain quiet as the door sits open. I turn sharply and brush past him.
“Isa,” Ren says quietly, and I pivot. “Be quick. Be quiet.”
He orders like the captain—like my instructor. But I study him for a moment before reluctantly nodding, disappearing in the Veil a moment later.
The steel door quietly slides shut behind us.
We move in silence, our steps light as the corridor bends left.
The air is cooler here, with the heavy scent of damp stone as I follow inches behind Rydian.
We’re halfway down the corridor before we hear quiet chatting to our left, spotting the entrance to the king’s private garden.
My hands suddenly hover over my daggers as we inch by.
“Stay close,” Rydian says as we move past in swift silence, his fingers lightly grazing mine. “Looks like the captain is on edge.” Annoyance coats his tone, and I can’t help but stifle a grin.
“Can you blame him? We’re sneaking into the king’s chambers. If Elion were to find out, he’d kill all of us, not to mention you’re both from different realms. It’s best to just ignore him,” I say.
“Are you speaking from experience?”
I grin. “As a matter of fact, I am.”
The guards don’t even pivot in our direction, and then we’re at the back entrance to King Elion’s private chambers, quickly approaching the arched stone foyer and steel door.
Rydian stands behind me, eyeing the corridor as my hand instinctively hovers over the door frame, revealing similar runes to what was found in the throne room.
I make quick work and etch two counter runes, hearing a soft snick and silently pushing it open, praying that the old door doesn’t make a sound.
“We’re in,” I say and he follows me inside, but the Veil doesn’t disappear, and I arch a brow. “I thought Ren said the wards were the same.”
“He must’ve been wrong. This one feels slightly different. I can still access the Veil somehow, but I can’t touch my magic. Can you?”
I realize the warmth in my hands is gone, then shake my head—no magic. Luckily, if we can still access the Veil, that means the king won’t be able to scent us.
Walking down a short hall, I see a private mantel sits to the left with many dark crimson and gold chairs pointed at it.
The royal chamber opens to a vast area, and I immediately spot the four-poster bed centered in the middle of the room, right beneath a large L shaped mezzanine.
I quickly scan the space, noticing more bookshelves and a large table sitting directly across from his bed. There’s a lot.
“Search his items on the mezzanine, and I’ll search down here,” I say.
We make swift work of the space, checking for hidden nooks and stone hiding places. I find myself rummaging through the stacks of books left on his table, doing my best not to misplace anything.
A thick brown ledger sits at the bottom of the pile. I flip it open. Names—pages and pages of them.
Many names I recognize from the brotherhood, others I don’t. Scrawled next to them are numbers, including mine. Tallies or ranks? A shiver crawls up my spine.
I wonder if he’s keeping track of who he has serving him. What do the numbers mean?
But beneath the ledger is a scrap of parchment with jumbled, frantic writing. Hardly legible, making little sense—clearly not Elion’s writing. Or perhaps it is. It’s hard to tell.
The script is written in multiple lines down the page, and I realize it must be some future he’s seen as a Scry. I begin to wonder if this is a part of his motive for the Veilstone.
The book closes, leaving me to quickly place the parchment back beneath the ledger as if it were never touched. Then Rydian brushes his fingers against my shoulder.
“I inspected the walls. No hidden passages in his chambers except for the two separate doors leading into the courtyard and his archives. I did find this though,” he says, handing me a letter.
My stomach dips at the signed signature near the bottom. “It’s signed by Witt Dralor, his second-in-command.”