Page 126 of The Mirror of Beasts

But there were no gods left in this world to hear me. There were only us, and the monsters.

Emrys sidled up beside me, giving me an encouraging nod. I released the air in my aching lungs and forced myself to lean around the crumbling stone wall.

My knees turned hollow. I braced a hand against the remains of the cottage, closing my eyes, trying to steady the wild beat of my heart.

“What … do you think could have done that?” Emrys asked.

A black serpent, the length of three of me, lay in pieces on the road. Chunks of its lustrous scales were riddled with holes. An unidentifiable, half-eaten mass of bloodied fur had been left near its gaping maw; tufts of white clung to the sticky blood on its swordlike fangs. My mind composed the story in an instant: the creature had gone hunting, found the day’s meal, and was bringing it back to its den when another, deadlier predator had taken it by surprise.

I ran toward the castle gate, leaving Emrys huffing to keep up.

The main road served as an artery that climbed up past more homes, guild workshops, and armories. Covered markets protected from the snow revealed the last evidence of the carnage of the past. The stone road turned crimson there, still stained by blood that had never completely washed away.

“I thought … the rivers of blood … were only a story,” Emrys got out between hard breaths. My lungs were working like bellows too, sending tremors through my body.

“There’s always a seed of truth in every story’s garden,” I said. Another favorite refrain of Nash’s.

God’s teeth. I hadn’t spared the man a single thought since crossing into Lyonesse, but he had to be somewhere in the kingdom too. Given his head start, there was a good chance he’d already beaten us to the citadel, and maybe to Excalibur.

“Come on,” I said, steeling myself for the possibility. “We’re almost there.”

Emrys had turned back to survey the road behind us. The sight of his profile, achingly handsome, sent a bolt of warmth through my body. He would have been right at home here, I thought ruefully. A prince of a legendary kingdom.

The wind ruffled his snow-dusted hair, and as he turned back, his bright eyes met mine—and darkened in a way that sent heat washing up my throat to my cheeks.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he almost groaned. “Not when I don’t have time to do anything about it.”

My breath caught, and somehow—somehow—I forced myself to only reach for his hand.

“Later,” he whispered.

A promise.

But by the time we reached the steps into the castle, there was nothing left in me but the desire to stretch out over the icy stones and cool my burning muscles. Miles of upward climbing through the streets had left both of us quietly gasping for breath as we made our way toward the waiting entrance.

The outer doors were nearly as tall as the building itself, decorated with iron flourishes and the symbol of Lyonesse, a roaring lion’s head. And, mercifully, by wind or someone’s hand, they were already ajar—just wide enough for the two of us to slip inside. Beyond it was a corridor that ran between two stairwells on either side of us, and beyond that, another set of doors that led into the great hall.

Exchanging one last wary look with Emrys, I released his hand and stepped carefully through the doors to the hall.

The smell of must and rot was overwhelming. The air itself seemed dead: unnaturally heavy and still, hanging over derelict feasting tables like a mourning shroud.

“Hello?” I called out. “Cait! Neve! Are you here?”

My voice echoed back to me, small and fearful. Are you here? Are you here?

“Do you want to wait here or go looking for them?” Emrys asked.

My gaze drifted over to the two thrones at the head of the hall. Carved from wood, embellished with gold; the velveteen fabric of the seats had been devoured by moths and damp. And any crowns had left the kingdom when its ruler did, dead or alive.

A section of the vaulted ceiling had caved in, and at some point, water had rushed in through the splintered stones like a cascade, creating a solid wall of ice along the grand room’s eastern face. Tapestries.

My feet moved toward them of their own accord, even as my mind tried to pull me back toward the corridor connecting this room to the next. A breeze slipped through the open door and pushed at my back, encouraging me forward. The air hummed in my ears, low and soft, like a mother’s hushed soothing.

Emrys pulled a flashlight out of his bag. I took out my own, moving to the first panel at the far end of the hall. Rubbing a hand over the frost, I shined the beam of light through it.

The scenes were distorted and magnified by the glasslike ice, but not even that could diminish their beauty. I walked slowly along, clearing the cloudy layer of rime as I went. After I reached the end of the panel, I stepped back to view it in full. Emrys stood behind me, his body warming my back, his chest rumbling as he made a thoughtful noise.

“The creation of the world by the Goddess?” he suggested.

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