Chapter 12
Raiden
She certainly sleeps hard for someone paranoid enough to keep a dagger under her pillow. The dagger that I very recently discovered might be the answer to most of my problems.
I stand at the end of her bed and clear my throat, hoping not to frighten her. I’ve kept her torch burning through the night, and I think that’s helped her get some decent rest.
She stirs, not yet fully awake.
Normally, this is when I blur back outside, but now I stay. It’s time to practice coming out of the shadows.
She sits up with a gasp, throwing her hands wildly to her side and looking around the room expectantly.
Those emerald-green eyes land on me, flashing from panic to recognition before she reaches under her pillow, only to find the dagger she’s expecting to be there is missing.
“Were you planning to stab me, you crafty little snake?” I almost laugh at the way her eyes turn to saucers. She’s not used to being caught unprepared.
“I wasn’t planning anything, but you’re a fool if you expected me to not at least try defending myself.” She pulls her sleep-mussed hair into another long braid, and my hands itch to chop it off. It takes effort, but I refrain from saying anything.
“Which is exactly why I removed the dagger. I saw the way you threw those blades. For a healer, you certainly are violent.” I find it ironic that she was born with the gift of healing, but the rage that stirs within the blood pumping through those pretty little veins makes her vicious.
“You don’t know a damn thing about me,” she grinds out between clenched teeth.
“I know everything about you, Arina Chiron.” I move closer to the bed, but she doesn’t even flinch.
“What do you want?” she demands, eyes narrowed to slits.
I inspect my gloves, pulling a piece of dust from one of them. “I came to see if you were feeling up for a little tour.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Haven’t we gone over this? There is no refusing me.”
That does it. She’s up in an instant, swatting my hand away and tripping over the blankets to scramble across the room. It’s good to see she’s healed so well.
She reaches for the handle on the door, but I blur to the space in front of her before she can yank it open.
Awestruck by the display of magic that’s certain to be unlike anything she’s ever seen, she freezes long enough for me to grab her arm and pull her into me.
She smells divine, like something I’ll never get enough time to enjoy. Spiced flowers and citrus, and I can’t get the scent deep enough into my brain to be satisfied.
How silly of me to think this would be simple.
Arina
I TRY TO scream, but the sound is muffled under a gloved hand as it clamps over my mouth. Taking a sharp inhale through my nose barely satisfies my desire for air. I cannot breathe.
The scent of bergamot and amberwood hits my senses and sets fire in my throat. Raiden is whispering soothing words into my ear, but none of them make any sense. A tingle runs down my neck and through my spine. This motherfucker.
His nose is at the base of my ear, and tears gather in my eyes.
I try to fight, thrashing against the brick wall of a man, but it’s no use. Finally, I go limp.
“Good girl,” he whispers at my temple. “I’m going to release you, but you have to promise not to run. Can you do that?”
I nod so hard I’m shocked my neck doesn’t snap. Anything to get his hand off my mouth.
The moment he releases me, I flip around, ready to strike. He snatches my wrist mid-air as I swing for his chin.
“That won’t do, mikró fidáki. Keep your tiny, violent fists to yourself.” He twists my arm at an uncomfortable angle, forcing me to truly look at him.
The moment my father’s language leaves his mouth, I stiffen. Mother used to read the children’s books from Ophis Isle to me. They were written in the language he’s speaking now, and I want to know where he learned it.
“I wouldn’t have to resort to my fists if you would give me back my dagger,” I snap at him.
“The people out there will not hesitate to take your life for even the smallest of missteps. You’ve murdered one of us, and they aren’t thrilled about it.”
“Out of necessity! Because you made me!” I yell. “I’m not going to do anything to make your life easier.” I gather all the saliva in my mouth and expel it directly at his face. In his shock, he releases my arm to wipe the spit from his eyes, and I take the opportunity to run.
His laugh is jolting, and I don’t make it even one step over the threshold before thick, strong arms wrap around my middle and pull me back into the room.
“I didn’t want to have to force you, but this would be no fun if you didn’t fight back,” he whispers into my ear as he closes and locks the door once more, keeping one arm securely around my waist. The man is immovable.
I curse.
He turns me, leaning one arm over my head as his thumb brushes over my bottom lip, sending fear coursing through me as he says, “Such a pretty mouth saying such filthy words. You must behave, mikró fidáki. Promise me.”
“If I promise, then will you answer a question?” I barter as I catch my breath, hoping to get something from him in return.
He steps back, flourishing his hand out to encourage me to ask my question.
“Why do you keep calling me that?”
“It means—”
“I know what the fuck it means. I want to know why.” Why are you speaking in my father’s tongue?
He considers me for a moment, and I know he’s not being honest when he says, “You’re full of venom and bite when provoked. Let’s not pretend you’re anything less than a lethal little snake.”
“That’s not an answer. How do you know that language?” As far as I knew, there wasn’t anything left of Ophis Isle. The people from there were wiped out, and their language with them. How then, does this male know how to speak the language of the island of snakes?
“Because it’s not the answer you wanted?”
“Because it wasn’t the truth.”
“It is my truth.”
I roll my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest.
“So you’re not going to tell me how you speak the language of Ophis Isle?”
“The same way most people learn languages,” he skirts.
I give up. “Fine. Don’t tell me. I’ll figure it all out on my own, eventually.”
He snickers. “Maybe sooner. If I let you live that long.” And he walks out the door, leaving it open as a clear invitation to follow.
We walk in silence for a long while, twisting and turning through a maze of tunnels until I’m sure he’s simply trying to disorient me.
I’ve gathered that the Underground is just that: underground.
Lanterns lining the walls of stone and mud light the way, their orange haze flickering in the breeze as we walk by.
There’s not a single soul around, but the chittering of a large crowd grows closer as we reach the end of a particularly long tunnel. I suddenly feel naked without my dagger.
We stop at a massive door fashioned out of wood and steel. Two sentries stand at attention on either side, and they nod to Raiden, who glances sideways at me before reaching to grab the handle.
I want to stop him. I want to run, afraid of the unknown that awaits within. Instead, I take a deep breath as I put up the walls in my mind. Nothing can touch me. Nothing can hurt me.
“Here we are,” he whispers as he pulls open the door.
On the other side is what I believe to be a throne room. It’s more of a cavern carved from shining black stone. Before us is a black velvet carpet that leads to a platform. People stand on either side of the carpet, filling the room. They all turn our way when the door shuts noisily behind us.
I look past them, their faces blurring into unrecognizable fuzz as my eyes find the man sitting on the simple chair carved out of the rock beneath it to look like a tree stump growing into the floor.
His russet brown hair is streaked with grays. He looks weathered and fierce, but I don’t miss the hint of tears glistening in those green eyes that mirror mine as my feet lead me closer to the front of the room.
My stomach lurches, and I think I may vomit, but I wrap my heart in a coffin of black stone that matches the room we’re in, steeling myself for whatever is coming.
It’s no longer puzzling to me how Raiden learned to speak my father’s native tongue.
Nor is it a mystery that he calls me little snake; though it’s been a quarter of a century, and I was very young when mother burned the last of his photos I had hidden in my room, there is not a sliver of doubt that the man on the throne before me is undoubtedly my father.
And he doesn’t look dead nor surprised to see me in the least.