Page 35 of Enthralled

I stagger the last few steps across the swaying bridge, convinced my stomach is on the verge of leaping right up my throat. The last time I came this way, Castien was with me. He’d insisted on holding my hand, claiming to be afraid of the dark. How irked I’d been with him at the time! It was becoming more and more difficult to disguise my growing feelings for him. That simple contact of his palm against mine was almost too much for my façade.

He’s not here now. He’s not returned to Vespre. I’ve risked so much, traveled across worlds, left behind everything. And he’s not here.

I grind my teeth. Now is not the time to think such thoughts. I step off the swaying bridge onto the stone ledge beneath the low priestess’s throne. The light from her staff intensifies. I drop to my knees and lower my head, closing my eyes against that glare. “Umog Grush,” I say and place a hand against my heart, “I have come at your summoning.”

“Well.” The low priestess’s voice rumbles like the first murmurs of an earthquake. “Greetings to you, littlekurspari. The stones of Umbria sang out when the portal between worlds opened and you stepped through. I’d set them to watch for your return and the return of your Prince. I must admit, I had long since given up any expectation of meeting you again.” She leans forward in her throne, grinding the end of her walking staff into the dirt. “I cannot say I was well pleased to learn they had successfully fetched you back from the palace. Not after you so unceremoniously abandoned us.”

Shame floods my cheeks with heat. While the others might assume the best, trust Umog Grush to discern the truth. I swallow hard. “I . . . I wouldn’t have been gone so long by choice.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

My heart drops. But what’s the point of trying to lie my way out of this? She will know. With an effort of will, I lift my gaze, meeting hers under the steep ledge of her brow. “You’re right,” I say softly. “I chose poorly. But I will choose better going forward. I will do whatever it takes to make up for the wrongs I have done.”

“Fine words.” The priestess settles back in her seat. The lines of her face harden into a foreboding scowl. “Both you and your Prince abandoned Valthurg in its hour of need. Then again, perhaps it is better for troll kind to be cut off from the worlds. We’ve never been a particularly social lot.” She chuckles darkly, spinning the staff in her hands. “But these nightmares . . . these Noswraiths . . . they must be stopped.”

I nod, even as my stomach tightens. “I will join Mixael and Andreas at once. I will help them rebind the—”

“No.” Umog Grush’s voice cuts like a sword. “No more bindings. They must be stopped. Destroyed. Ended.”

For a long moment I can only gape up at the troll woman. I simply cannot find the words. Then, with a gasp, I blurt, “That’s impossible.”

“Nothing created by humans is intended to last forever. The gods themselves ordained it to be so.”

“Yes, but . . . but Noswraiths have been around for hundreds of years. Thousands perhaps! In all that time, no one has ever discovered a means to destroy them.”

“Then you must be the first.”

She holds my gaze long and hard. Neither of us speaks for some time, but I feel the crushing weight of everything in her eyes. The success of bringing the palace and the low temple together—the shock of Vespre’s sundering—the wrongness of my abandonment of them all. It’s all there. The good. The bad. Both what I have accomplished and what I have failed to honor.

“All right,” I answer at last, my voice low and firm. “I will do it. If it can be done.”

Umog Grush’s eyes narrow to glinting slivers, studying me, searching for the lie in my words. “Go,” she says at last, flashing her diamond teeth in a snarl. “Get on with it then.”

Without another word, I rise from my knees, turn, and hasten back along the swaying bridge over a chasm of endless darkness. Overhead, Noswraiths writhe and gnash their teeth, watching me go.

“Mistress, I’m here. Reach out and take my hand.”

I nearly whimper out loud with relief at the sound of Lir’s voice. With her troll senses, she can see me well enough as I pick my way blindly along. I do as she bids. Lir’s strong fingers close around mine and draw me the last few steps from the bridge and back into the closeness of the tunnel. It’s not exactly comforting to find myself once more hemmed in by a thousand tons of solid rock, but at least I’m no longer alone.

“I’ll take you to the other librarians,” Lir says.

I nod, deeply relieved when she doesn’t ask after my conversation with the priestess. I’m not sure I can bear to recount it. Not yet. Not with this new and impossible task now weighing on my shoulders.

“They will be so glad to see you after all this time,” Lir continues, “and very glad of the reprieve.” She tugs me along a few paces. I’m completely dependent on her, helpless in this pitch black. Only after we’ve progressed for some moments do I realize we’re not alone. There’s a third set of footsteps.

“Who’s there?” I demand.

“Oh! I forgot your human eyes can’t see in here,” Lir says. “Captain Khas has joined us.”

A little bloom of warmth unfurls in my chest. I’d feared something might have happened to Khas during the outbreak. Valiant defender that she is, she would not have fled the palace willingly. “I’m glad,” I say, tears choking my voice. I swallow them back; Khas is not one for excessive emotion. “Are you well, Captain?”

A moment of silence. Then: “Yes, Miss Darlington. I am well.”

Her words are followed by a strange, gurgling coo that makes absolutely no sense to my ears. I frown, uncertain what to say. Then Lir leads us around a turn, and the dense darkness of the temple lifts, illuminated by a series of moonfire lanterns. “The low priestess agreed to let Mister Silveri and Mister Cornil have light in the southwest quarter,” Lir says. “Some of the priestesses complained; it is considered sacrilegious to bring light into the temple of the Deeper Dark. But under the circumstances, most agreed it was a priority to give the librarians a protected space to go about their spellwork.”

While she’s speaking, I turn and look back at Khas. The captain, as tall, muscular, and beautiful as ever, steps into the light, and I lose my breath entirely. “Khas!” I exclaim. “Why . . . I didn’t . . . I never . . . Oh!”

A chubby baby is bound to the front of Khas’s torso, facing out to watch the world with a curious gaze. Its bone-white skin and silvery eyes look very like its mother, but a mop of red curls adorns the top of its head, a colorful contrast. It grins up at me, displaying a full set of stumpy diamond teeth.

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