Page 84 of Night of Death and Flowers

Then there’s Azkiel, who made me feel something for a moment. It was just lust, nothing more, but he used that to lure me close. I withhold the urge to sink my dagger into his chest, only because he’s my best chance at finding Ari.

Drake’s whisper carries into my ear. “I’m sorry. Truly. I didn’t think Death would save you, and I couldn’t let you die.”

An eerie silence settles over the trees as we carve our path toward Azkiel’s temple. “We will talk later.”

As I cast my eyes around the maze of trees, a sense of doom washes over me. In the distance, waves crash from the river separating the island and us.

Every aching, tired bone in my body was no match for the adrenaline coursing through my veins, pushing me to keep going despite the heaviness of my recently acquired magic. Unlike the decay magic, my newfound powers rebel inside of me, refusing to submit to its new owner.

Eleanore. Isolda. Cordelia. Briar. Rourne. I list their names together for the first time, then add in Edwardo, and whoever else was killed by Edwardo. The townspeople sing songs of the fallen of each Harvest, the elders wearing the names as a badge of honor. I imagine Ari’s name, or Drake’s included in sonnets or odes, and my heart stammers.

“We’ll find her,” Drake whispers, as if he can feel my panic. I’ve felt so distant from him since arriving here—the island of fucking terrors.

I hold on to the hope that Ari is alive. Surely, if she died, Azkiel would have felt it. He told me he could sense the dead, and this is his domain. While he doesn’t fully believe she is the chosen one, he won’t take the chance of her dying. I should have gotten her away before The Choosing. We could all be on a ship right now to another land, even one filled with non-magical humans who want to kill us. We could have hidden, or even gone to the mountain courts in Dahryst.

I’m responsible for Ari. We were closer when we were younger, and we would sneak into our mother’s room to pretend we made potions with her imported perfumes. Mother would get so mad, but her anger was worth it. Those memories keep the darkness of my magic at bay.

I turn hastily, following Death as he makes a sharp turn into yet more forest.

I seldom pray, but now, having confirmed that what I knew was true—that the gods are evil—I am suddenly aware of how comforting prayer was in the difficult moments. Because whenever I was alone and afraid, there was something soothing about asking a higher power for strength. Even after I stopped believing they were good, I wasn’t certain, and that glimmer of hope that I was wrong gave me a reason to keep fighting.

As I play a tug of war with my conscience, a twig hits me in the face as I attempt to push through a narrow overgrowth. An unexpected laugh escapes my lips, and Drake’s eyes widen. Azkiel pauses for half a second before continuing to walk, and I slap my hand over my mouth. Why the fuck did I laugh? There is nothing humorous about this at all, yet the irony and amusement of it all plasters a smile over my lips.

Great, I’ve lost my fucking mind.

Azkiel’s voice slices through the silence, his tone as smooth as the shadows clinging to him. “You’re dehydrated,” he states, explaining my sudden outburst.

My brows furrow, and I’m suddenly very aware of how dry my mouth is. I dart my tongue between my cracking lips, then attempt to swallow, but only the tiniest bit of saliva coats my throat. “I’ll find water soon.”

Drake only shoots me an incredulous look as we keep walking, his eyes sweeping over Azkiel’s cloak clinging to me. My calves burn by the time we finally reach the temple, transcendent amongst groves of thick vegetation.

Drake halts next to me, his jaw slacked as we take in the towering, stone pillars reaching through the trees, strangled by parasitic plants.

I recognize two of the rare species from my books—Tempest root, sprawling over the uneven, cracked steps leading up to the entrance, and Nightmor, orange berries attached to thickets of brambles covering a stone effigy of Azkiel.

Moss covers the tan stonework, glimmering under the fading light of the moon. Vines strangle the pillars, but the majestic, fragmentary stone remains are only enhanced by nature reclaiming the structure. With every step toward the double brass doors, my heart pounds and breath hitches.

Azkiel side-eyes me, and I shut my jaw quickly, then huff out a breath as my eyes travel the various statues of him, and I quickly discern that one is made entirely of gold. I roll my eyes up, then shake my head.

I let out a tense breath as we climb the steps, praying Ari is inside. I place my hand against the door, sliding my fingers over the greenish-gray metal, engraved with inscriptions in the old language.

“Uncover one’s face upon entering,” Azkiel reads, the permanent smile on his features feeding my desire to punch him in the face again. “For here we enter the residence of the great Azkiel.”

I grimace, then push the door inward before he can read anymore of the tributes to him. The metal grinds in my ears, as the doors scrape fragments of stone across the ground. A musty odor hits the back of my throat, and I cough against the dryness of the air.

Light filters through what is left of the roof, illuminating a cracked statue of Azkiel. I always thought they made him look taller than he is at around six-feet-ten, but as he towers over us, it’s obvious that they are very accurate depictions of the cruel, handsome god.

My throat burns when I try to clear it as the air sinks into every crevice of my lungs, making me cough again. I venture deeper, listening to the distant crash of waves against the cliffs and rocks, which signals we must be closer to the edge of the island than I thought.

Azkiel shakes his head. “They’re not here.”

“What do we do now?” I ask, desperation clawing at the edges of my mind.

His gaze rolls over me, the intensity burning into my shadows. After a minute, he nods to himself, but doesn’t share whatever he deciphered. “We stop here for the night.”

“Why? We have to keep looking.”

“We wait,” he reiterates. “They can only perform the sacrifice here.”

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