Page 48 of Secrets of Graves and Gold

“Ah.” Alek pauses. “You said you could tell when Kosmel reached out to Ivy. Do the daimon interact with the godlen often? Have you ever talked to one directly?”

Why is he asking about this? Does he think Rheave might be able to plead for our cause with the other lesser gods, prevent another hail of vengeful fire?

If so, it appears we’re out of luck. The daimon-man lets out a chuckle. “I sense when they come, but they don’t usually pay attention to us. And we don’t really… talk, even to each other, in our usual form.” His tone abruptly brightens. “Maybe we should. Talking can lead to many interesting discoveries.”

Stavros sounds as if he’s restrained a snort, but Rheave’s enthusiasm brings a smile to my lips for the first time since we left the Haven. He manages to find so much wonder in the world even in dire circumstances.

There is so much that’s wonderful in this world, no matter how difficult the road ahead of us becomes. That’s exactly why we need to save the world from those who’d twist it to their sadistic ends.

As the trees thin up ahead, the former general twists in his saddle, his voice low. “We should avoid any talking now unless it’s absolutely necessary, until we’re back in the cover of the denser woods. Our voices will carry farther over open ground.”

Rheave clamps his mouth shut with an emphatic nod.

We cross the fields and weave through a stretch of forest beyond them. The sun is just past its peak, gleaming through the leaves, when Stavros motions to a small carving on a tree trunk.

It’s Sabrelle’s sigil surrounded by a circle with a few other, smaller etchings I don’t know the meaning of. But Stavros clearly does.

He urges his stallion to the right, and the rest of us follow. Several minutes later, he turns left at another etching. It can’t be more than a few minutes after that when we arrive at a small glade.

When Stavros dismounts, we all do the same and gather around him. He kneels to brush aside the fallen leaves to reveal a smooth, round stone. When he lifts that up, a steel hatch shines in the early afternoon sunlight.

The former general pauses. The center of the hatch holds the imprint of the Melchiorek family crest, like he had on his old sword that must be back in his chest in his quarters at the college.

He sits back on his heels with a faint growl. “Shit. I didn’t think about that. Every officer carries a seal that could unlock this, but obviously I don’t have mine. The entrance is locked with magic.”

My power twitches in my chest. Casimir and Alek both glance toward me, as if the answer is inevitable.

Maybe it is, but my lungs constrict even as my magic squirms through them. None of my training with Sulla prepared me specifically to set my magic against a spell already in place.

I don’t know how to counter that properly. I don’t know what the consequences would be if I can’t focus on a proper balancing effect.

Stavros is already uncomfortable enough about my magic without me screwing up on my very first attempt at using it since leaving the Haven.

Rheave shifts his gaze to me too. My hands clench at my sides.

We need what’s down there. That matters more than anyone’s opinion of me.

The backlash for opening a lock can’t be that immense, can it?

I open my mouth, but before I can force out the offer, Rheave pushes in front of me and kneels by the hatch. “My power might be able to break the magic on it. Ivy should save hers for when no one else can help.”

I stare down at him, not sure what to make of his declaration. Is he only thinking in practicalities… or did he realize how conflicted I was?

The daimon-man is directing all his focus at the hatch now. He rests his hands on the edge of the metal surface. “I think the rest of you might want to back away.”

We all take a step back, apprehension rippling between us. Rheave leans closer to the hatch. He exhales in a soft hiss.

Energy crackles across the hatch in a burst of light with a metallic squeal. The daimon-man lurches backward as if shoved by the force he’s exuded.

I leap forward automatically, ducking down to catch his shoulders before his head slams into the dirt.

The impact knocks me off-balance too. I tumble sideways, falling to my knees with the daimon’s head landing on my thighs.

As I catch my breath, Rheave gazes up at me with his unearthly eyes. I’m still clutching one of his shoulders, close enough to his head for his glossy brown curls to graze my wrist.

He reaches up to brush his fingertips along my jaw, so delicately a flutter passes through my pulse. “Thank you, Ivy. You protected me too.”

Before I can sort out the sudden clash of emotions inside me, Rheave sits up with a jerk and motions to the hatch. “Try it!”

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