Chapter 10
“ T his place is an entire mansion. How am I supposed to search a hundred doors?” Aiden whined down a hallway that led to a sitting room decked with finery and furniture fit for a king.
“You’re the one who chose Moon,” Jade drawled from an amethyst chaise, lounging, feet propped on the armrest, while faelight flickered off her starfire ring and she scraped dirt underneath her nail with a dagger. Apparently, her door offered a room filled with clouds and windows. And a staircase that led to … nothing.
Thalon too had no such luck. The Sun door wouldn’t open, so he had moved to one of the remaining doors and disappeared inside.
Down a long winding staircase below the star-emblemed door, Alora hesitated through another threshold. Going down was easy. Returning up the steps was the difficult part.
But she would face that when she had to. Right now, Blood was her only focus, so she stepped into the room.
Fit for a queen, the bedchamber’s colors burst like stars. Alora found herself surrounded by golds, pearls, and shimmering silvers, deep inside her door’s room now.
A fireplace of marble, etched with fine details of silver and gold, stood as tall as the ceiling. Elaborate furniture such as dressers, vanities, and more couches than a single faerie would need. And the rugs—they looked as if they came from the Stars Eternal. Like clouds billowing over every surface. Desks adorned with golden handles and legs, chandeliers of ten thousand crystals, and a bathroom of equal magnificence waited outside double doors laden with gemstones.
The air, though—it felt strange. Like some warning whispered in it, but she couldn’t run away. Her legs only allowed her to amble around the room covered in a thick layer of dust as if no one had been there for thousands of years …
And it wasn’t the honey-stitched white sheets or the gold-framed four-post bed teeming with fine curtains of lace and silks that stole her breath. Not even the fact that it appeared slept in—recently.
No, it wasn’t that at all that forced her feet to retreat toward the threshold.
She didn’t realize she had inhaled in a panic until Garrik called from the door at the bottom of the staircase,“Did you find it?”
Alora swallowed, eyes locked on an iron shackle and chains attached to the bed frame. “No,” she answered quietly as if the act of speaking too loudly would summon whatever monster had used those chains. So, Alora gave Garrik an expression that conveyed her feeling of terror and pointed. “Look.”
Garrik’s face paled when he followed.When he saw that shackle and chain, long enough to wander around the entire room and those attached to it.
“What happened here?” Alora breathed, glancing sidelong at him. At his rage—worry.
“I … do not know,” Garrik thickly admitted and took a step to cross the— “ Fuck. ”
Alora whirled to find Garrik standing in the doorway.
His fist slammed into … nothingness.
“I cannot cross,” he growled and scanned the wooden frame. Lifting his palm, Garrik attempted to punch through, but again, he met nothing but an invisible wall. “ Get out of there ,” he snarled, eyes fading to night.
Maybe she imagined it, but the mountain, it seemed to tremble.
Alora frowned and retorted, “I haven’t searched in here yet.”
That didn’t seem to please him. “I promised no harm would come to you, and I cannot keep that promise if I cannot get to you.” There was a cold bite there. One that should have her yielding, but …
“I’m perfectly fine.” She was. And they hadn’t found Blood yet.
Embers lit in her hands, dancing between her fingers until a flame ignited, proving to him her magic was still surging through her veins.
But even so, her eyes watched his. How they darkened despite her magic, frantically scanning the threshold and darting inside the room. How his posture shifted uncomfortably, every vein in his arms bulging, every hardened muscle taut when his back straightened.
The nervousness was unlike him. An odd emotion he rarely showed.
Garrik pushed both his hands into the invisible wall, sinking his weight into it. If it were glass, it would have shattered. “Your courage is astounding.” It sounded more like sarcasm than a compliment. “Can you at least step outside so I know you are able to leave?”
“So you can grab me and whisk me away to another room?” Alora raised her eyebrow and crossed her arms.
Expression firm and unmoving, Garrik said flatly, “Humor me.”
Regardless of his intentions, Alora rolled her eyes but nodded.
On tantalizing steps, she headed to the door and placed her foot on the threshold in a dangerously drawn-out movement. She could’ve sworn she saw fire behind his eyes at her game. And when her foot reached where that invisible wall was for Garrik …
Alora’s eyes widened in horror.
Panic set in her face. She kicked the barrier in a rhythmic cadence. One—two—three.
Garrik’s face tightened. Terror ignited his eyes, and he lunged forward, hands slamming over and over into the invisible wall that locked her inside. “ Alora !”
A wicked grin played on her face, releasing a terrible cackle as she reached through the barrier and gripped his wrist.
“ See . It’s fine.” She laughed—and continued laughing. The swell of her cheeks reached her eyes as she pulled away before he could force her through.
Garrik muttered something that sounded like a curse, then warned through his teeth, “It would be wise to not test me, clever girl.”
Those eyes darkened, stepping dangerously close to her across the barrier. So close she caught his leather and metal scent and could see his quickened pulse under the scar on his neck. Garrik’s eyes flickered to her wicked smile, then to her sapphires before his fist pressed against the barrier.
Leaning into it, his voice deepened in a taunting growl, “Unless you wish to be punished later, then by all means, do continue.”
There was something other than a real threat there.
Something fluttered low in her belly.
His words … the sheer predatorial stare … how his body tightened, positioned so powerfully …
Staring each other down for a moment, Alora willed herself not to move. Not to swallow or even loosen a breath. Instead, she dared an enticing step forward, testing his threat, and hovered at the barrier.
Alora traced her finger along the barrier as if were his chest, brushing down his muscles, mere breaths from doing that very thing, and said, “It wouldn’t be a punishment if I enjoyed it.”
Garrik’s pupils dilated.
She became painfully aware of exactly how her taunting affected him, yet she kept her eyes from wandering down, knowing the evidence she’d find.
His breath tickled her cheek as he leaned in. She could almost see the very thin ribbon keeping him from snapping. Almost wishing he would when he said, “You have … five seconds … to walk away before I turn a wall into a door.” And he would. She saw it in his eyes as they flickered to the bed, and then he began counting, “One.”
Alora’s breathing went uneven. She considered crossing.
“Two.” Garrik pushed from the threshold, balling his fist.
Three, she thought. He wouldn’t actually do it, would he?
“ Four . ” Garrik turned to the wall beside the door with destruction in his eyes.
Alora stepped away before he began remodeling. “Okay fine. Stand there and watch me if you must, but I’m not leaving until I’m satisfied Blood isn’t here.”
Garrik’s hand found the wooden frame and squeezed hard enough to crack it. He watched as she moved about the room.
She searched piles of hand-drawn art on desks, opened each drawer, and rifled through every stack of paper. Her fingers sank between cushions and under pillows, moving curtains.
Alora inclined her head slightly at another doorway and the room beyond. Plastered with wrapped boxes—gifts of various proportions and sizes. Some open, most not. They remained stacked in corners, piled atop one another with torn paper, loose ribbons, and wrinkled seams. Those that were open beheld more finery. Jewels, art of a city of clouds, unworldly gorgeous gowns, handwritten letters, crowns, keys, and perfumes.
Behind her, Garrik shifted in the doorway. His glare weighed heavily on the back of her head with every step, every touch, every movement she made.
“Worried, mighty prince?” she asked. “Afraid I’ll sit on this bed and never leave?”
Garrik’s face turned primal as he growled low but said nothing.
Alora offered a feline grin and sat on the bed. Admittedly, it was quite enjoyable watching him. If she would’ve attempted these games with Kaine …
Straightening her spine, Alora sat on the silken sheets and reclined back, crossed a leg over her knee. Playfully humming, she teased, “It’s quite comfy. Too bad you can’t enjoy it with me.”
“You are playing a dangerous game, clever girl. Do not tease me.” Garrik’s arms lifted to the top of the door frame, pulling his leathers tight and outlining his incredible chest and V shape of his body.
Dangerous indeed, she thought. To be toying with the Savage Prince. To be toying with pure male instinct and desire. Toying with her friend.
Standing from the sheets, Alora smirked, and with a final assessing look, decided to search the piles of opened and unopened gifts.
But she paused before the door. Her eyes devouring a form holding a floor-length wedding dress in the opposite corner.
And for a moment, the picture was so clear in her mind.
Keeping a few paces away, she imagined herself wearing it.
Not so long ago, servants had accompanied her to the finest Telldairan shops, most gowns commissioned from Rowlen’s father. She found the perfect— ridiculous —ballgown that Kaine would be agreeable to, even though her taste was much simpler. They had visited cathedrals and grand halls known for rich gatherings to decide on where they would hold the ceremony. Many nights she’d lay under his emerald sheets as Kaine’s warm body pinned her to the mattress while he slept and she daydreamed.
A shudder slithered down Alora’s spine, raking over the gown. Imagining herself in it again:
Telldaira’s grandest hall would overlook a pastel sunset casting its glow off the distant river, awaiting the incoming night sky. She would step beyond a grand archway smelling of pearlsea flowers as every royal, dignitary, and revered lord of Zyllyryon and surrounding kingdoms stood. All waiting for Lord Kaine’s betrothed to float down the long emerald rug to Kaine waiting in his finery.
Only, when she would turn and look through the archways of ivy and the most beautiful white flowers like the sea, it wasn’t Kaine she saw. It was?—
Garrik cleared his throat and shifted in the doorway.
Shuffling nervously on her feet, Alora turned and took another step toward the dress. A glint from her starfire reflected off a necklace hanging on the neck.
It couldn’t be …
There, enclosed in white-gold and swirls of silver, a tear-shaped ruby the size of her rounded thumbnail rested on a diamond-laced chain.
Alora couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think beyond lifting Soulstryker from her thigh to behold it and the necklace.
It was the perfect size, the perfect shape. She pictured the likeness of it, found inside that book on Aiden’s ship. Straight down to the unique cut and smooth faces of it. Its color, deep and dark as the very blood running in her veins.
Because it was Blood.
“I found it,” she breathed in disbelief, reaching for the form. Her fingers touched the white-gold and traced the mastery of its shape and artistry. When her fingers closed around the necklace and lifted, the ruby swayed and caught her fire’s glinting light.
Alora turned to Garrik, who still stood with a vexed expression. He went rigid and withdrew from the threshold as he, too, beheld the jewel in her hand.
Alora took a step toward him.
And the entire mountain erupted.
“ Give me your hand !” Roaring through the chaos, Garrik stood half on the staircase and half on the floor. The muscles in his forearm burst as he outstretched his hand, reaching for her.
Terrified, Alora stared at the spiraling stones of the staircase as she stumbled to him through the threshold.
There were too many.
They would have to run— fast. But her legs, still haunted by her past, couldn’t move.
Garrik was screaming, but the roaring and shaking of the mountain was so loud— so starsdamned loud— she barely heard him.
He didn’t allow her a moment to think before those considerable arms lifted her from the floor, and then they were gliding up, up, up.
“ Hold on ,” he said, and she felt some sort of dark calm settle over her.
Even so, a strangled whimper broke through her throat as she threw her arms around his neck. He pulled her to his chest tighter.
Over his shoulder, an ancient, haunting voice snarled, “You cannot have what is mine.” Its rage seared into them.
Amethyst and glittering navy light flared from inside the bedchamber. Foaming thunderclouds burst from the threshold, storming up the stairs.
Faster. Climb faster, Alora roared as the storm bubbled ten steps below.
Garrik burst into the atrium, bellowing to the others and rattling the mountain.
The storm, it was seconds behind them, raging upward and ready to explode into the room.
Thalon appeared across the atrium, eyes wide as he beheld them breathless, Alora in Garrik’s arms.
“Move ! ” Garrik ordered, and they ran through the Moon door.
Jade was on her feet, backpack strapped over her shoulders and daggers drawn as she frantically jumped off the furniture.
Thalon’s Earned clacked together as he slid to a stop beside her, and asked, “Aiden?”
“Somewhere in there,” Jade hissed, gesturing to the hallway filled with hundreds of doors. “Did you find a way out?”
Their Guardian’s face fell grim. “No.”
If they got trapped in here, in those hundreds of doors … That storm, with no way out …
Alora shut out the terror—as hard as Garrik slammed the door to the Atrium closed and settled Alora back on her own feet.
Steeling herself, and without another option, they ran down the hallway screaming for Aiden. Passing art galleries, ballrooms, small living spaces, offices. Rooms of clouds and night skies, with glowing light so bright they had to look away.
Behind, the atrium door exploded into a thousand splinters.
The storm devastated the room, shattering belongings before it surged into the hallway in wrathful pursuit, and that ancient, cruel voice snarled from within the storm clouds, “ Darkness . You believe you could escape?”
Garrik—it wants him . Chased him.
She was falling behind. The rush and sweep of the mighty wind and death clouds filling the corridor?—
Garrik slid his fingers into hers and swung her forward. In front of him.
Alora grappled for a steady foothold as Jade called to Aiden.
From a door twenty steps ahead to their left, he finally answered.
They slid into the room, running. Aiden waved atop a dais, sitting in front of fifty rows of pews. Some sort of cathedral, she realized, before Garrik slammed the night sky-stained-glass door closed.
“ What did you do ?” Jade bellowed toward the dais, tearing a dagger from its sheath.
Holding his palm to his chest, Aiden gasped with a mischievous grin. “ Me ?”
Jade may have said something had their heaving, hysterical breaths not been drowned out by the storm consuming the glass door.
Mist and fog and power—terrible, endless, cruel power—seeped under and climbed the glassy sky so slowly now, as if it knew it had them trapped.
Glass shattered—but not from the door.
Aiden’s boots crunched the tattered glass of one of the five floor-to-ceiling length windows. The middle one, which once had been a stained-glass moon worshiped by faeries, had been shattered.
And on the other side … a winter storm covered the mountain.
The blistering cold surged through, instantly developing a frost on every surface it touched.
Dread chilled her bones more than the outside air. More than the storm behind them.
Winter had arrived long ago.
And now, they would either be consumed by the storm inside or die by the one outside.
Waving his hand, Aiden stepped onto the ledge and glanced down. “Come on then!”
Jade bounded down the center aisle, the rest of them close on her heels. “This is a fucking bad idea,” she screamed as wind whistled through the shattered window.
Aiden smiled. “Never stopped us before, love!” His hand found the small of her back before he nodded, and she did too. Without a word. Without turning. Without looking at anything else but each other, Jade and Aiden linked hands and jumped.
Thalon exchanged a glance with Garrik before his attention turned to Alora. Before she could protest, Thalon lifted her into his arms and stepped onto the broken ledge. She felt his back twist, squeezing—more like straining—his muscles as he stood. But Thalon whipped his head over his shoulder as he rolled them backward, then forward. Then golden eyes flashed with something like shock.
“No time. Go. ” Garrik ripped his sword from the sheath?—
The stained-glass door exploded in a prism of shards, peppering the isle and pews. Embedding into the walls.
“You cannot run from me,” the voice bellowed.
The night sky stole Garrik’s eyes as his wrath detonated. “ Thalon !”
And before Thalon locked a death grip around her, Alora’s eyes met Garrik’s.
Then he was standing in a broken window, his figure growing smaller and smaller and smaller until he was but a blot against the mountain. The death-storm of amethyst and navy light enclosed around him. Swallowing him whole as she and her Guardian plummeted into the white abyss below.