Page 65 of Terragnata and the Heir of the Earth

I stepped back from him. “You,” I growled, attempting to shove down my desire to wipe the smug look off his face with the curvature of a dull knife.

It didn’t work.

“I will kill you.” My voice was gravel.

“Oh? I’m assuming that won’t be for some time, given IknowCas has advised against something so foolish.”

I wanted to tell him he wouldn’t see it coming, that he’d finally know peace one day, and on that day, I would take everything from him. But the thought only brought my mother’s dying face to the front of my memory.

“Why did you do it?” I whispered, fearing my full voice would crack. “Youmadethem my family,you.” I jabbed my finger at his chest. “And then youmurderedthem. They were innocents.”

Fayzien’s smug face turned serious. “Listen to me, you privileged, complaining whore. I picked your mother and father up out of agutterin Laharam. Two boys and no money—I paid them handsomely, and they knew the risks. They knew I’d have to alter their boys’ memories. And Ialwaystold them if you were discovered, I’d clean house,” he sneered. “They agreed anyway. Humans can be so… desperate.”

I launched at him and he portaled out of my path. He was fast, his dodge so instant I had no time to recover before colliding with the opposing stack of books, sliding to a pathetic lump on the floor.

My head pounded from anger and the impact, but I could still hear Fayzien’s laugh ringing out. “Fell for that little trick again, did we? Here’s a tip—I have the fastest portal in all of Nebbiolo. It makes meexceptionallyhard to kill.”

If I’d hated Fayzien before, I didn’t have a name for the emotion I was feeling now.

“What are you even doing here, lapdog?” I spat blood. “Are you following me, a glorified babysitter now?”

Fayzien laughed, a humorless mocking sound. “You really do think of yourself as highly important, don’t you?”

I rocked back on my heels, peering up at him. “No, but I thinkyousee me that way. It must be distressing to see the letters of my name inscribed over the heart of your lover. AmI in your head, every time you see Cas bare? Do you wonder if he’s thinking of me when he lies with you?” I revealed my teeth painted with fresh blood in a murderous smile.

Fayzien’s face contorted. My blade-less weapon had struck true. I laughed out loud, delighted in his reaction, which only angered him more, and he grabbed me by the throat with one hand, hauling me up, tipping my head to his.

“You little bitch, think you’re so smart, do you?” he whispered, his hand tightening on my airway, spit flying from his mouth and landing on my cheeks. “You’re an overvalued twat, with no aspiration, and little more talent than raw magic. Raw magic meansnothingif you don’t have the skill to use it. And unlucky for you, I do. I am coming for you, Terra ofnowhere, ofnobody. We’ll see who sits beside Cas at the end of this.”

He released his grip, shoving me into the stacks, and stormed away.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

WHITE LIES

Istroked the bruises on my neck, rinsed my mouth with water from a jug that had been set for visitors, and grabbed a readable-looking novel on my way out so I’d have something to show for my time in the library. Olea’s eyes widened at my throat and face, and I shook my head in response. “I’m fine. Had a small run-in with Fayzien.”

She gaped a moment, but then fell into step with me. “Ye jest let hem get away wi’ ‘at?” she asked quietly, leading me through the serving quarter.

I clenched my jaw. “I wanted to rip out his eyes for laying a hand on me. But he was angry, and angry people tend to reveal things they ordinarily wouldn’t. He’s not mine to deal with, anyhow. At least—not yet.”

She didn’t press further.

We walked through the kitchen, and for the first time, I saw those that had been behind closed doors. These Fae were not like the ones I had come to know. Some were horned, with hair covering their faces, some smaller with ears even more pointed than mine, though I knew they were mature. Jana once told me of Elvens and Gobbles, which many referred to as lesser Fae. They looked away from me when I gazed in their direction, indeference, shame, or hate I could not tell. Something about them didn’t sit right with me—like they were there by force. I wished I could tell them that I, too, was forced to be there. But I knew it didn’t compare.

We approached a smaller wooden door at the end of the serving rooms, and Olea tugged it open, rust squeaking on the hinges. She grabbed two torches from an opposing wall and handed one to me. We made our way down, traveling far beneath the palace. Maybe I imagined it, but I thought I heard running water. We must’ve been lower than Ezren’s cell, for his had a small, barred window at the end of it that looked out of the palace. We were deep underground by the time the staircase ended. And as Olea had predicted, dirt made up the floor.

The room she mentioned was just a few paces from the bottom of the passage, and not concealed by any door. Cold emanated from the circular space, and it smelled of mildew. Frescos of the old Fae decorated the walls, but the colors had faded and a thick layer of dust and grime lined them. A small ledge ran the circumference of the room, like a trough. Instinctually, I dipped the flame of my torch to it and the fire caught. In an instant, a ring of flame encircled us, save for the open entrance.

I knelt on the ground and sifted dirt in my palms, sighing in satisfaction, putting on a display for Olea. She tapped her foot with a nervous rhythm, perhaps disturbed by the eeriness of where we were.

You can wait for me in the kitchen if you want,” I offered. “I’ll be at least an hour.” She looked hesitant but relieved, and she nodded before making her way to the stairs.

I remembered little about the lessons of the old ways of the Fae I had been taught as a child. Rumors of ritualistic sacrifices, both animal and Fae, came back to me. The history of what likelyoccurred in this space, thousands of years before me, hung heavy in the dense air.

Once Olea’s footsteps faded, I untucked the blueprint from my corset and smoothed it out over the dirt. The blueprint showed several sections, each representing a different level of the Valfalla palace. But instead of the three rooms on the underground level I’d seen before, there was only one. The circular shape of it swelled before my eyes—as if the ink bled from the script. I blinked, wondering if I was hallucinating. And then, it burst into flames, a controlled burn outlining the room on the paper, mimicking where I sat. The flame traveled outside the room, turning right and following a passageway to what appeared to be a closed wall. But it tore through the drawn barrier and continued on, snaking through several more turns and then stopping, marking an X. I looked at the image of the ground level and swallowed in realization. The flame placed the X on the map directly below the guard’s quarters. Where they held Jana, according to the servant I’d paid the day before.

I ran my hands over the parchment, sensing the magic in it now, wondering how a blueprint could have known my intention. “Thank you,” I whispered. And the flame responded, drawing a message back to me. The flames snaked and circled, burning in a swirling script that read:Anything for the daughter of the Mother.

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