Chapter 37
LYRAE
The corners of Evernight Castle stretched into shadow, its vaulted ceiling lost in the oppressive darkness above, hallways ending in tunnels of black.
Ancient, tattered tapestries flapped in the winter wind, since the entire fortress lay open to the elements.
Even with the influx of fresh air, the smell in here was wrong, carrying the metallic taste of corrupted magic and something far worse—a choking sweetness like rotting flowers that clung to the back of my throat.
Whispers chased behind that chill wind, the worn floors were slick with a thin layer of snow, our every breath hung like white ghosts in the air before they were swept away.
My sister was here.
Had been held prisoner, for decades.
In this cold, dark place that had no soul.
Rage that had been building all day threatened to spill over, to scorch the dark stone of this castle the same way flames burned out front. Patience, I told myself, not for the first time today.
Anger leads to mistakes and mistakes cost lives.
I glanced at Varian, then Ryland. Then imagined my little sister, somewhere up above us, a prisoner in that tower. Everyone in the world I cared about was in this awful place, and I would not risk a single one of them through my own carelessness.
No, we were all walking out of here, in one piece, holding the Crown.
Then we were killing Gravelock, slowly and creatively, with maximum pain and suffering.
That was the only outcome I would allow myself to imagine.
“Cheery place,” Varian muttered, peering down the meandering, darkened hall.
“Love the decorations,” I added, throwing him a stiff grin. “I wonder if the Butcher did all this himself, or if he hired it out?”
“Focus.” Ryland’s face was a harsh mask, hand tightening on his sword hilt. “We don’t have time for your usual pithy commentary. We get this done and we get out.”
I hummed in agreement, nerves on edge, eyes fixed on the flickering torches along the corridor that bent and swayed with the air currents. We flattened our backs to the wall as a trio of guards bolted straight across, racing into the fray outside.
We’d ended up in the correct section of the castle, so that part of our plan had succeeded. Ariel was somewhere to my right, in the topmost tower, behind a door that was probably bolted shut, protected by layers of magic.
The Crown…could be anywhere.
The relic would be well warded and the inside of this place was a maze.
But Varian would sniff the artifact out, no matter how well hidden.
“This is where we split up.” Ryland monitored the long hall, his voice steady. “We meet back here in half an hour, whether we have what we came for or not.” He shot me a pointed look and I pinched my lips together, biting off my argument before the words could escape.
After I’d convinced them the only way this rescue mission would ever work was if we split up, after Ryland finished shouting, after I’d been forced to agree to his list of ridiculous rules, I’d be godsdamned if I was leaving here without Ariel.
No, I wasn’t putting a fucking time limit on my sister’s life.
“See you in thirty?” I bumped Varian’s shoulder.
“Definitely,” he said with a smirk. “Unless, of course, we beat you back here. I’ll bet you ten gilder we’re here before you.” Then he sobered. “Good luck.”
“I’ll take that bet. Twenty gilder, I’m back here with my sister waiting for you two losers to show up.”
I turned to go when Ryland grabbed me, grazing his lips over mine so quickly I wondered if I’d imagined it before he pulled away, emotion overflowing his green eyes as he gazed down at me.
“Be careful. And if you can’t get her out, remember…
we live to fight another day. Don’t be a fucking hero, commander. ”
“Well, if this arsehole gets a kiss…” Varian spun me around, then his mouth crashed into mine, our tongues tangling before we broke apart, leaving me off kilter, my head a mess of a thousand things I needed to say.
The look in his eyes was the same as when he’d told me to run, then he tipped his forehead against mine for one brief second.
“I’m not losing you again,” he whispered. “Don’t take any chances, Lyrae, I mean it.”
I pressed myself against the cold stone wall as boots echoed through the corridor ahead, my heart hammering against my ribs as I slid seamlessly into a darkened crevice.
Every patrol of those enhanced Fae soldiers moved with powerful, otherworldly grace, their magic crackling through the air—with a biting sensation that prickled my skin.
They passed by, the last soldier pausing, testing the air, tilting his head as the rest of them thundered ahead.
I held my breath until my lungs burned, not daring to move even as a bead of sweat traced a wobbly path down my spine.
Finally, the soldier moved on, and I allowed myself a single, silent exhale before continuing my desperate search.
This entire castle was a labyrinth designed to ensnare invaders, its corridors twisting back upon themselves in ways that defied normal architecture.
I was sure I’d passed the same gargoyle twice, its stone mouth leaking some foul, blackened water into a basin carved with runes I didn’t recognize.
But then, with a flash of relief, I saw what I’d been searching for—a narrow archway framing a round, spiral staircase that only wound upward.
I’d found the westernmost spire.
I knew with a bone-deep certainty this was the path to Ariel’s tower.
To my sister.
Voices drifted from behind me, closing in on my position, their tone carrying an edge of taut urgency that sent ice racing through my veins.
I wondered if they’d put the fire out, killed the Grimbeasts, captured the runaway horses, and realized the driver of the wagon had disappeared.
Maybe they were already searching for us, and I stood no chance against their magic, not by myself.
I moved like a shadow, every lesson I’d ever learned about stealth turning into muscle memory as I rushed toward that archway, the torches flickering miserably against the cold darkness.
I slipped through the opening a second before the patrol rounded the corner, my back pressed against the rough stone of the stairwell wall.
Ten soldiers passed within arm’s reach of my hiding place, and I started up the winding stairs into the darkness above, praying that each step would bring me closer to my sister.
My thighs burned during that brutal climb, more than a thousand steps straight up, the rough stone scraping my hands raw.
At every turn, a small opening looked out over the black clouds rolling in, the chaos down in the courtyard, the acrid smoke from the still-burning fire, the mass of Grimbeasts still hurling themselves against the gates.
I may have underestimated the creature’s rage—or maybe their hunger—because even up here, I felt every battering blow of those huge bodies against those thick doors.
But the Fae soldiers were slaughtering machines and once the beasts were dead and the fires put out, once they figured out this was a ruse, someone would come looking.
One of Rooke’s crows swept past and tipped its wings, as if telling me to get my ass in gear.
Fucking finally, I reached the top, the view dizzying as I pressed myself flat against the cold stone, every breath a sharp, painful gasp, the freezing wind tearing loose strands from my braid, my cheeks so cold I couldn’t feel them anymore.
As expected, Ariel’s door was padlocked from the outside, humming with some foul magic that skated over my skin with wicked, invisible claws.
Gravelock might be clever, but Rooke was even cleverer, and I pulled a vial of clear liquid from my pocket, thanking the gods this hadn’t broken on our bumpy wagon ride.
I dumped the contents over the padlock, watching the iron melt away like softened butter, drops of molten metal pooling at the bottom of the door. Next, I pulled out a piece of paper, flattened it with my fingers and—awkwardly and not at all well—read off the spell Rooke had written down.
Light spread across the stone framing the door, trickling into every crevice, then onto the door itself, like embers eating away at the edge of a piece of paper, glowing, hungry, voracious.
Runes flared to life, then faded away, one after another, and I held my breath as that light ever so slowly crawled down the entire length of the door, and outward across the stone until finally, it disappeared altogether.
I sent up a prayer to the gods, flattened my hand against the warm wood and pushed.
Wonder of wonders, I didn’t die a horrible death, and the door swung open, revealing the sparsest bedroom I’d ever seen.
One rickety bed with a paper-thin blanket, a chair with three legs, a small table with a scuffed top.
The room was barely warm, a pitiful fire guttering in the blackened grate.
Ariel sat with her back to me by the window, long white hair spilling over her shoulders in a river of spun silver. She wore a matching, threadbare gown, her eyes—the exact same pale blue as mine—fixed on that stormy horizon.
Staring straight north, toward Frostveil.
Shock spread through me, chilling me to the core.
Ari was skeletally thin, nothing but bones, really, her skin so pale I wondered if she’d ever seen the sun, if she ever ate. Her cheeks—still filled with baby fat, the last time I’d seen her—were hollow and gaunt, dark circles under her eyes. She was a ghost.
But still ethereally beautiful, despite everything.
Still my sister.
“Ariel,” I whispered, stepping inside the cold room, smelling faintly of woodsmoke and damp. She turned slowly; her blank expression serene and terrifying. There was no flash of recognition in that ice-blue gaze, no spark of the fiery, laughing sister I’d once known.
No sign she even realized I shouldn’t be here.
This was a shell of a person, a hollowed-out husk, and horror rippled through me. Of all the things I’d prepared myself to face today…this was not it.