Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
WAR IS HELL
Sometime during the night, the do leave me. It doesn’t feel as lonely as it did before. We’re connected, the four of us. They brought me here to help them. I committed to the treasonous role. I was theirs to do with as they pleased.
And now, they’ve vowed to always be mine.
The time that passes in my little bird cage isn’t long. It feels like a slow eternity, but Roman is true to his word.
A gentleman of his word, one might say . . . if he weren’t such a cock hole some days.
The door slides open on rusted hinges with a cry that I feel deep in my chest. And there stands a willowy figure before me. Her long arms angle severely with frail hands on slender hips. But just behind that old queenly figure is my Roman. I mean, Roman. Regular Roman.
I shake my head at myself but remain leaning against the cold wall farthest from them. Three feet separate me from them. I wait patiently to hear to what I owe this delightful surprise of having the queen of Hell in my little prison.
“Roman tells me he once met a mage in the Upper Realm. She was a beast tamer. She advised him that ember dragons like yourself need sunlight to feed their fiery souls.”
An ember dragon. Is that what I am?
The flames that heated my shifter’s body are still fresh and warm in my mind.
It’s a fleeting thought, because I’m honestly too focused on whether or not my friend Romey lied to his queen.
Did he tell her about the dragons in The Upper Realm?
The ones who will most definitely annihilate me if I ever come after them in the name of the Realm of Hell?
“Welllll,” she says on a voice like hot honey.
I arch an eyebrow at her and continue to wait her out.
Well what? What the fuck do you want? Tell me how the game ends!
“Get over here, my pet. We’re going for a walk.”
Oh, I hate her.
I fucking loathe this witchy bitch.
A growl hums through my chest from a beast purring to come out. I swallow hard.
There’s a drifting pause where no one moves. My gaze doesn’t hold hers for long. The tangle of uneasiness in the depths of my stomach draws my attention instantly to Roman. The shadows covering his pretty eyes don’t stop me from feeling his gaze upon my face. He said he’d never leave me down here.
But what did he promise to get me out?
I push off from the wall, and the moment I move, so does she.
She strides back the way she must have come, and I walk right up to Roman.
There was a time where I would have punched him in his obnoxiously perfect jaw just to see if it’d crack under the pressure of my fist. But now, I come to him, and as soon as I’m near enough .
. . my head drops against his smooth chest. My eyes close, and I take a single second to inhale a shaking breath that holds all my uncertainty and all my anxiety.
And I give it to him.
Then I lift my head with honor, and follow after the queen of Hell.
“I must admit I’m pleased to have found you, Cersia.” Her voice echoes back to me as we pass the dozens of shadowy doors lining the dark walls.
Found. She did find me. She instructed the High Hell to find me. She led them to me. But was it to kill her predecessor or . . . to leash one of the rarest creatures in all the realms?
Our feet fall like heavy lead down the long dark corridor. I follow her, Roman follows me, and we’re a chain of captives being led to our deaths.
Maybe not today and maybe not tomorrow, but this queen will have our lives. She’ll use them as she wishes until they die in her hellacious honor.
It’s not worth it.
A door ahead opens, and a stream of pale white light falls across the dirt floor.
It takes me a second to realize Avian’s holding the door open with a bow for his queen.
A piece of his soft hair falls into his eyes as he looks discreetly up at me as we pass.
It’s like looking into the future and feeling it all crumble away before you’ve even touched it.
I could have been happy with them.
But that won’t be our lives.
For our lives are not our own.
I keep walking.
The three of us leave the arena and head uphill to a side of the castle I haven’t yet ventured.
We’re on the opposite side of the castle gardens.
The moon is high in the sky, and the light it provides feels unnaturally bright tonight.
It beacons us as we trek up the extreme incline through the dirt and rubble.
My boots slide with every step I take and I can feel the heat of Roman’s hands hovering with every careening step, but he doesn’t dare coddle me.
Just sensing his nearness should be a calming ease within my mind.
It’s not, though. My mind blazes with a thousand different thoughts, and none of them are logical.
Attack her.
Before she takes everything from you.
Take her down.
Kill her!
As we reach the top of the hill, I find just how illogical those thoughts are. Because every creature in Hell is waiting there. The slender and eerie hell fae are the first to greet me: with stones.
The first one hits my shoulder, and then they all come raining down, stinging my face and my back as I hunch against the onslaught.
Among the jeers of rage and the storm of stones, Roman stomps past me on hard strides that billow dirt around his every step.
Sharp teeth snap out from his lips, but before his beast can fully rip out of him, a voice rings out loud and clear.
“Enough!” The scream of the queen flings magic through the air so hard that a wave of force throws back every flying rock. It hits the crowd with pain and shock.
Wide-eyed hell fae, wolves, and demons look toward the elegant and poised queen.
“Cersia is not our enemy. Her beast killed one of our own, but it was a mistake.”
“It was my grandmother!” A furious, unseen voice seethes out.
I peer up from beneath the dirt clinging to my hair.
Vanitee is shaking with anger as she glares at her mother.
Among the hundreds of hell-kissed creatures, Nyra stands at the front.
Vanitee’s hand is around her waist and the two of them look at me with the strangest look in their eyes. Is concern? Fear? A mixture of both?
That’s how I know how fucked up the Night Witch’s mind is. I murdered her mother, but it was just a mistake in her tattered little war-bent mind.
We’re all fucked now.
Creatchin smiles out at her people. “A dragon is a special, special thing.”
Special indeed . . .
“With Cersia at our disposal—” Ah, and there it is.
Disposal. “We will have everything we need and more. The beautiful sights of the Upper Realm are ours to enjoy. The knowledge of the Lost Realm is ours to absorb. The rightful power of the Hopeless Realm, that too is where my hell fae should have the natural born right to inclusivity. Rejection is no longer a word we will hear simply because we are different. All the realms will respect us and accept us.”
Where the fuck did she get all these realms from? Is she realm shopping in bulk now? Calm down, Queen Plethora.
Goddess, this is worse than I thought. Those places—assuming they exist more than just in her mangled mind—they’ve been selected for centuries of war.
We’ve been selected for a lifetime of war . . .
Just like they were before.
As her voice carries on over the nodding but still uncertain crowd, I turn ever so slowly and look up at the most beautiful green eyes.
They look beaten now. More so than when he actually was a beaten and abused man.
I don’t know why. Why does the idea of me being harmed seem so much more weighing for him?
“Roman,” I whisper on the quietest voice I can muster. He searches my face. “We need to leave. We need to go back to my pack. I have some family there. They’ll hide us. We’ll get through this, but we need to go now.”
I didn’t think he could look more defeated, but in this moment, he does.
“That’s not possible, beautiful. Ravar made sure of that.” His head shakes slowly back and forth, and it’s then that I spot Zilo looming in the dark shadows at a careful distance from the crowd.
“You and I, we need to very quietly make our way toward Zilo. We’ll tell him our plan, tell him to get Avian and meet us in the gardens. We can do this. We’ll get through this.” I’m reassuring him as much as I’m reassuring myself.
“Ravar attacked your pack, beautiful. He killed your kin. We can’t go back there.” He shakes his head no once more, and once more I ignore him.
My hand slips into his and the calloused skin there is strangely calming. Perhaps it’s because I have a semi-thought-out scheme, and we’re taking action.
Right fucking now.
At first, it’s a casual few steps to the right. More of a pacing than anything. Nothing to see here. Not two of the kingdom’s most deadly beasts attempting a barking break out with three hellhounds. Nope. Nothing to see here.
And then I’m running. I’m dragging a stumbling man behind me as I run toward Zilo like he can save my fucked-up life I’ve screwed myself into.
As for Zilo, he’s on high alert at the very sight of me.
With the confident strides of a commander, he’s headed toward me, his hands outstretched as if he might clutch me into his embrace the second I’m close enough.
And fuck, suddenly that’s all I want: for him to hold me and let me steal us away from this war that’s building all around us.
Nothing more but a few yards separate me from him. I drag Romey along faster. My hand reaches out, and I’m seconds away from getting us on our way out of this literal hell.
My fingers brush his. It’s warmth, and it’s strength, and it’s total security of our future.
But the burnt taste of ash is on my tongue with a flurry of smoke clouding around me.
Because Creatchin is snatching up my wrist before I ever fully feel Zilo’s hand in mine.
“What are you doing, Cersia?” she asks with a tilt of her head.
What. Am. I. Doing?
That is an excellent question.
An excellent lie would only be suitable.