Chapter 25
ARES
My palm burned, agonizing in its intensity.
It was as though the plinth meant to devour me whole.
I was back in the library, in the little room.
But I was alone this time. Rhiannon was not here, and my hand was stuck to the plinth.
I tried to yank it away, but it would not come.
Somewhere within the library, there was a noise—an alarm of some kind—but it sounded very far away.
The burning sensation in my palm intensified, and the horrific smell of burning flesh filled the room. I pulled harder, but my hand was stuck tight. “Fuck,” I snarled, trying again. Where was Rhiannon?
The door burst open, cracking down the center. On the other side stood Ember Verona, dressed in a three piece, emerald green velvet suit, carrying a godsdamn labrys. With one lovely, lethal motion, she embedded one side of the axe’s double-headed blade into the door, right underneath the swan.
“Stay calm,” she cautioned.
I nodded as she approached.
“You’re not calm,” she whispered as her hands closed around mine. “Be calm, Ares. I am here to help.”
I looked down into her hazel eyes. There was no emotion but pure confidence in them.
I saw what Rhiannon had revealed to me now, a warrior through and through.
I was panicking, if just a little. She took an exaggerated deep breath, ducking beneath my outstretched arms and between them, sliding her slender body between the plinth and my chest, wrapping her arms around my neck.
“Be calm,” she breathed, pressing her long fingers to my chest.
She wasn’t wearing a blouse underneath her waistcoat.
I swallowed hard, forgetting for a moment about the fact that my hands were searing with pain as she pressed her body to mine.
Her head tipped up, her eyes hooded with either desire or fear, I could not tell, but as her lips parted, she raised up on her tiptoes.
“If you can’t breathe deeply on your own, maybe it would help if we shared breath. ”
I lowered my head to hers, the pain of my hands all but forgotten as her mouth met mine. We shared breath for one long inhalation, followed by an exhalation before her tongue slid past mine, her arms tightening around my neck as her long body pressed against me.
A soft whimper passed from her mouth into mine as I deepened the kiss, every throbbing beat of my heart sending unbearably lovely heat through my body, mixing with the pain in my hands as the plinth consumed them. I wanted nothing more than to touch her, to run my hands over her body.
And then they were free.
She smiled against my mouth as I tentatively pressed my palms into her back.
They did not sting as though they were burned.
They didn’t even hurt. I didn’t know what to make of the moment, but Ember seemed pleased as she pulled away from me.
I glanced over her shoulder at my palms. They showed no evidence of having been injured, but I had no doubt of the danger I’d been in.
Rhiannon appeared behind us, skin pale, eyes haunted.
“Wonderful,” she muttered. “You’re making out.”
“Hi, Rhi,” Ember said as she stepped away from me. Her movement was casual. It wasn’t a jump away, trying to hide what we’d been doing. In fact, she still stood so close to me that if she leaned back, even slightly, her back would press into my chest.
Visions of wrapping my arms around her waist and exploring her body danced through my head, distracting me from all that had happened. The mere heat of her was enough to send me beyond reason or good sense. I had to get this under control, and fast.
“I took him to the island,” Rhiannon said as she crossed her arms, glaring at the labrys. “And you broke my door.”
Ember shrugged. She was different in some small, but significant way.
The set of her shoulders was stronger somehow, her spine a little straighter.
“I’ll get him home. You can go.” Rhiannon rolled her eyes at Ember’s imperious tone as she stalked out, but Ember called to her.
“Sunrise, Bronte. I’ll see you at sunrise for penance. You and Achilles both.”
A delicious chill ran down my spine, remembering what Rhiannon had said about their life on the island.
Ember Verona was not just a legendary fighter, she was a true leader.
Somewhere under all of the bullshit she’d been through for centuries, there was a commander.
And it seemed she was emerging once more.
Something stirred deep within me, and the desire to pin her against my chest and make her scream with pleasure returned.
She was all messy heat and imperfect glory, and I had the distinct feeling that I wanted to drink her in, absorb as much of her as I could.
She felt like a part of me that had been missing for my entire life, and now that I found her, I didn’t want to let her go.
I stepped back, my breath catching. These were dangerous thoughts. Thoughts that no matter how attractive, I could not make good on. I would always be loyal to the Necroline Dynasty first. And the way I wanted this woman threatened that.
A soft groan in the hallway brought me back to the moment, then the click of Rhiannon’s heels as she walked away. Ember stood with her back to me, still. I watched as some of the bravado of the previous moment melted away.
“What did you think of the island?” she asked, her eyes tired and haunted when she glanced back at me. I frowned, not wanting to forget the place I’d just been. “You can talk about it to other people you’re sure know about it.”
I watched as she went to the door and pulled the labrys from the wood, alternating between watching her and staring at my hands. I had been so sure they were burning. “It was beautiful. Rhiannon seemed to think that showing me would help me help you, though I don’t know how.”
She made a small noise, non-committal, but an acknowledgment all the same. “Maybe it’ll come to you later.”
I nodded, still staring at my hands. “How was I still here, but Rhiannon had actually disappeared?”
Ember sighed. “Those are secrets that aren’t mine to tell. You can never actually visit the island, while we are able to return via the plinths.” She motioned for me to follow her as she slung the labrys over her shoulder.
I followed her into the hallway. “Do you have a door here as well?”
She nodded, walking a few steps deeper into the hallway, before stopping a few doors down.
When I caught up to her, she smiled up at me, the bittersweet sadness in her eyes almost unbearable to witness.
“This is my door.” She swallowed hard before turning back towards the stairs Rhiannon and I had come up.
I stared at the brass serpent on the door, a vibrant symbol of both chaos and renewal.
A small smile found my lips. It was like finding a gift, a secret about her that I might never have known otherwise.
Hope budded up within me, a fragile bloom that would need to be nurtured carefully, but I already saw the tattoo in my mind, a serpent twining through blooms of hemlock on my chest. On the place over my heart.
Ember’s sharp breath broke my reverie. The fragile bloom, the serpent in the hemlock, the vision of something better for my future—all dissolved in an instant, as though I’d never had the audacity to think of it.
At the end of the hallway stood a woman with umber skin and a shaved head.
Her eyes were smudged with elegant kohl liner, and she was dressed in sturdy, close-fitting pants, heavy combat boots, and a leather jacket.
Standing next to her, leaning on her, cloaked in an ankle-length black wool coat with the collar flipped up around her face, was a silver-haired beauty with the saddest eyes I’d ever seen.
My heart crushed under the violence of my own mistakes. This was retribution for the errors I had made. For my lack of experience and vigilance. For my trust in the wrong people. Now I would pay for all I’d done.
Max Vela and Serafine DuVal.
“What the fuck is this?” Max snarled. In an instant, she stepped in front of Serafine, her movements lightning quick as the sound of metal brought Ember and I both to attention. Max Vela had her sword. Her true sword. The air in the library contracted with its power.
“Max,” Serafine whispered, her long fingers closing over her friend’s shoulder. “Max.”
“No,” Max barked in return. “Explain this, Verona. Is this a trap?”
Ember shook her head, her face smoothing into a strange mask of neutrality I’d never seen her use before. “No. It’s a bad coincidence. Rhiannon brought him here.”
“She wouldn’t do that,” Max shot back. She moved into a defensive stance. “He tried to kill Sera.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but Ember shook her head once. “He did not, and you know that. We’ve seen the evidence. It was a terrible mistake.”
“Let us pass,” Serafine said. “Please. We don’t want trouble.”
Ember made a noise that sounded like choking. “I would never stop you from getting the help you need. I am sorry.” Her voice broke over the apology. “I am so sorry.”
Every ounce of pain that flowed between the three of them was my fault. My negligence. My mistakes. I pushed past Ember, my hands raised to show that I was unarmed. I took several steps forward slowly, bowing my head as I did.
“My intentions did not matter,” I said as I knelt before Serafine DuVal.
“All that matters is that I harmed you. I would never beg your forgiveness, but I do ask for peace between us.” I paused, breathing deep.
“For the sake of my people. Please, let me help your sistren regain their swords. If, after that, you wish for my life, it is forfeit.”
Cool fingers tipped my chin up to stare into the violet eyes that looked down on me. Serafine’s heart-shaped face was framed by loose silvery-white waves and unruly bangs. Her rosebud mouth turned down. “I know you meant me no harm, Ares Necroline.”
Behind her, Max scoffed. Serafine shook her head. “Max cannot forgive you. But I do. Help my sistren. Find my sword, and all will be right between us.”
I nodded as she held out her hand. This was an old tradition. One from her homeland, just outside of Orphium, consumed by the wastelands now. I took her hand, pressing a chaste kiss to it. “I promise it will be done.”
She lowered her head to kiss the top of mine, and as she did she whispered in a voice so soft I barely heard her, “And when you do, you shall have my blessing. Now, rise.”
I glanced up at her as I stood. Serafine’s periwinkle eyes sparkled with elven mischief.
What had she read in me the moment I placed my hand in hers?
There were rumors about her, about the things she could do.
Some called her a witch, with that silver hair and translucent skin, with eyes like the rarest of jewels.
“I will take my leave,” I said, continuing on with formality. It seemed best. “You have much to talk about.”
Ember nodded, still standing where I left her. The three of them stood silent, staring at one another, ancient sentinels, awash with power. As I made my way to the stairs, I heard the click of Ember’s heels, and the hissed question. “Where the fuck did you get that sword, Vela?”
This was a conversation I wanted nothing to do with. I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed. I still had an informant to talk to. If I was going to make good on my pledge to Serafine DuVal, I should start immediately. There was no turning back now. We had swords to steal.