Chapter 51 #2
She probably hasn’t slept in at least a day. It’s hard to remember that the ball was only last night. I sway on my feet at the reminder, but Asmo’s hand steadies me.
“Anything?” I ask.
Elle shakes her head. “He’s alive. I don’t understand it. His wounds from the Cursed bear have even healed themselves.”
“Let’s see what Brynn has to say,” Asmo says.
She nods and leans back in her chair, foot bouncing on the ground.
“I plan to speak with the Herd after this,” I say to Elle. “You’re welcome to stay here though, if you’d prefer.”
She shakes her head again. “I’d rather not sit and stare at the male who ruined my life.”
Okay, then. “Of course,” I say. A soft knock on the door. Ivan cracks it open. “Brynn,” I say warmly. “I’m happy to see you.”
She forms a deep bow, then smiles at me. “You have no idea how happy we are to see you, Your Highness.” She turns to Asmo. “And you, Prince Asmo.”
He opens his mouth, but I shoot him a look. We’ll make the announcement later. He shuts his mouth and smiles politely.
I motion toward Marik. “We have no idea what has happened to him, and we would love a healer’s perspective.”
Brynn begins her silent assessment, hands hovering over every extremity, lips pursed in concentration. Her hand passes over his chest and her eyes widen for a flash, but she schools her features quickly.
Elle leans forward. “What is it?”
Brynn shakes her head. “Nothing.” Elle shoots her a glare and Brynn adds, “There is a connection.” She looks nervously to me. The mating bond.
Fuck. I didn’t think about this. “We are aware. Please, Brynn, this stays between us.”
She nods in agreement and continues her assessment. After another minute, she removes her hands and straightens. She clasps them in front of her as she addresses me. “He is alive, but he is…elsewhere. His body is here, but his soul is not.”
My stomach hollows. “What does that mean?” The soul is always connected to the body.
When the body dies, so does the soul. Both sink back into the earth and begin the journey to the heavens.
Until weeks ago, I never even considered the possibility that a soul could journey downward, to the hells. There is so much I don’t know.
She shakes her head. “I don’t know, Your Highness. I’ve never dealt in matters such as this. I’m sorry, but I’m not sure what I can do to help.”
“Thank you, Brynn,” Asmo says curtly behind me.
She gives us a final bow before skittering past us and shutting the door softly behind her.
“What does that even mean?” I groan.
Elle’s head is back in her hands, her nails digging into pale skin.
Asmo paces the space of the room, jaw working. His hands clench into fists before he shoves them into his pockets. “I don’t know. But I think I have an idea for how to find out.”
“Wh—”
Another knock on the door before it clicks open. “Your Highness,” Ivan’s voice comes. “The witch is requesting an audience.”
I cock my head. “The witch? Are they not all in the dungeons?”
“The lead witch. Levana.”
Ah. The witch ally.
“Tell her we will meet with her at sundown. In fact, we will meet with all of you at sundown. My mate needs rest,” Asmo says firmly. Before I can protest, he ushers everyone from the room.
With everyone gone, I feel like I can breathe. I sink onto the couch and rest my face in my hands as I fill my lungs. The couch shifts below me, and a hand rubs my back. I lean into Asmo and feel my eyes drift shut.
“Come on,” he says, scooping me into his arms. He leads me to the spare bedroom and rests me on the plush bed. I begin to argue, to tell him we have things to do, people to rescue, plans to make. But it dies on my lips as I sink into the soft give of the pillows.
Asmo places a kiss on my forehead. “Sleep, princess.” He shuts the door behind him. I close my eyes, the calm of sleep settling over me swiftly.
I shift to get more comfortable, and the grit of dirt on the sheets sends a flush of irritation through me instead. There is an ungodly amount of grime and dirt and sweat and blood crusted on every part of my body.
With a groan, I haul myself from bed and exit the bedroom. “I’m gonna take a shower, if you want to join,” I call, but it goes unanswered. “Az?”
No response.
The wing is empty. No sign of Asmo anywhere.
I open the door that leads to the rest of the castle. A small group of guards—Fae and hybrid—turn to me.
“Where did Asmo go?” I ask.
A squirrel hybrid tilts his head. “He hasn’t left, Your Highness.”
I freeze. Maybe I missed him in the wing? I thank the guards and turn back inside, calling for Asmo and searching everywhere, but he’s gone. The wards make it impossible to funnel out of here. But he escaped the dungeons, so there must be a way.
Maybe he left a note, some sort of explanation. But the kitchen counters are bare, and there’s no note anywhere. His jacket lies on the couch, and I reach for it, turning pockets inside out as I search for any clue.
The handheld mirror clatters out. Why is he carrying this around?
I grab a dagger and draw blood, smearing it over the mirror. “Show me Asmo.”
The reflection shows walls of red clay, of packed sand…Squall’s End? No. The tunnel from Asmo’s childhood. The cave where he and Marik used to escape to.
Asmo stoops and flings open the chest. Dust flies as it creaks open, revealing an assortment of blankets, novels, parchment, pens, and other seemingly random items. He pulls out a stick, a candle, and two small…
rocks or dice, I can’t tell. He sets the unlit candle on the ground and uses the stick to draw a circle around the candle.
I set the mirror down, grab my jacket and shove my shoes on.
If Asmo can funnel out of here, I must be able to.
I concentrate, willing myself to be at the cave’s entrance.
I imagine myself stepping through, imagine my foot landing on the red clay of the cliffside.
I feel the wind picking up, but it struggles. I grit my teeth and push.
It flickers, and I stumble onto the cliffside. I throw a sound barrier up and enter the cave, my stomach twisting as I follow the path. Something feels wrong.
Asmo sits in front of the circle, his back to me. The candle in the center of the circle blazes, orange flames burning several feet in the air. I’m six feet away, and I can feel the heat that radiates from the flame.
Darkness hangs in the air like a blanket made of ink—thick and tangible—but the candle remains burning bright.
“Osseris,” a deep, otherworldly voice whispers behind me, hot breath tickling my ear, sending shivers down my spine. My stomach hollows. The sound does not come from behind me, but echoes throughout the cave.
No.
“Where is my brother.” It is not a question, but an order.
The voice is ancient and filled with a hollow rattle. “The prince is in the Woodland Kingdom.”
Asmo scowls. “His body is, but his soul is not.”
“You know where he is, High King.”
“Tell me,” Asmo commands.
The voice inhales. The air in the cave whooshes toward the circle. A chill crawls through me. “Your brother is in a grave in the place where you were born to rule, Asmodeus.”
Asmo hisses a curse. Like the osseris confirmed his suspicions. What is he hiding from me?
I drop the sound barrier and step forward. “Where?”
The osseris turns slowly, fixing its eyes on me. Eyes made of galaxies, black holes, vortexes swirling into nothing. “Ah, she speaks.”
Asmo whirls to me, his mouth falling open, then slamming shut. His face drains of color.
“Congratulations on your bond,” the osseris says, the corners of its mouth pulling into a cruel grin. “Bold of you to reveal it to me.”
I keep my gaze on this thing, despite the way my flesh crawls as its eyes swirl and rove over my body. “Where is Marik?”
“He is in his rightful place. Where he was born to rule, just as your mate was. And now that you’ve accepted the bond, as are you.”
A bead of sweat rolls down my spine, but I feel cold. “Where?” I command.
It gives me a knowing smile and the swirling vortexes in his eyes still. Its teeth are made of sharp, rotting bones. “Hell.”