Page 56 of A Spell of Bones and Madness
Dimitris huffed, clenching his fists, but clamped his mouth shut. He was not known to stand down when someone berated him, although Ander wouldn’t have let him speak regardless. His word on this would be law, even their father agreed. It was curious, how outrightly against being near Thalia his brother was, yet strangely protective.
“And what of me, brother?” Chloe’s voice was short, like she already knew what was coming.
This was something Ander especially did not want to ask of his sister. Where she would be going neither they nor their parents had journeyed in almost twenty years. Theirtheíawas a peculiar woman, with a particular distaste for their mother—or any shifter that was not from her pack. A rivalry that stemmed much further into history than Giselle would ever mention.
”I need you to sail to Hespali. If we are to go to war we will need every ally we can find.” Biting the inside of his lip, Ander handed his sister a letter written by their mother. “You are our best hope at solidifying their support.”
Chloe scoffed. “Avra will not take kindly to me showing up uninvited.”
Ander leaned closer to his sister. “If you were able to trick Khalid and Edmund into letting you past the Alentian gates, surely this will be no feat.”
“That was different. Your life was at risk.”
“And as you’ve said, all of our lives are at risk if we do not fight.”
This time it was his sister who went to leave, fists clenched tightly by her sides, nails like claws digging into her palms, a deadly gaze in her eyes. “I will do this, but I swear to gods, if she locks me in a dungeon I do not care what you have to do or who you have to kill, you get me out.”
“Chloe, there is one more thing—”
”Don’t, Alexander, don’t even start,” she growled through tight lips.
“Take Farah with you. If Avra does not accept you being there—or worse, if she retaliates at the unintended slight—you need someone with her, let’s say, bloodline.” Chloe looked back at him, gaze blank, before she slammed the door and left.
Lacing his fingers behind his head, Dimitris kicked his feet up on the table. “She’ll never forgive you for that, you know.”
A low sigh left Ander’s lips. “I know—but we have no other choice.”
He wished there were—another way, more time, anything that would allow them to sit in this room under differentcircumstances. To laugh and drink by a crackling fire. To be young. To live. But like time, living was not a luxury they had.
“There is one more thing, Dimitris,” Ander heaved out in a sigh.
“And what is that, brother?” Dimitris raised a brow.
“I may be tasking you with aiding Thalia in the cause, but you are not to touch her, you understand? She has been through enough, and if I hear an inkling of a rumor that you have, I will ruin you.”
“As you wish, Your Majesty,” Dimitris replied, faking a bow, but Ander didn’t believe a single word of the promise.
Part Three
Elysium
Chapter Forty-Two
Kohl
Pugnant washes of decay and copper filled the air—strangely, the scents were accompanied by something else, something sweet, contrasting the foul burn in Kohl’s nose. He patted his hands around the walls of the cave, searching for a burnt out torch, a stick, anything he could light with his striker to allow Kohl to see what lay before him. Darkness consumed him. Not the kind that wraps around you in the night in a cool embrace, but the bleak, unadulterated darkness that comes before death.
On the ship, Edmund only mentioned one thing about the caves he now walked through—not to mind the screams—but all Kohl heard was buzzing. A long, piercing, incessant buzzing, not unlike the one he heard the first time he used the spelled compass tofind Skiatha andThe Nostos. It was worse than those gods-damned headaches he got before he needed to sacrifice blood tohim. Was it because he was so close to Hades now?Return to me, My King. Return, return, return.
The caves before him seemed everlasting, no shimmer or light as he stepped one foot further inside. It had only been moments ago that Kohl entered the caves, but even after a few steps he could not seem to find his way out if he wished. Why had Edmund sent him here alone? Where were the men that were supposed to meet him—these acolytes of the Olympi? Another step forward caused a creaking noise to echo, mixing with the incessant buzzing. Was it a trap? A secret trigger that would send arrows straight at his chest?
Beginning from the depths of the cavern, everything lit up. Blue flames snaked from the base of the cave’s wall, twisting forward, leading Kohl deeper into the mountain. He traced his hand above the sapphire embers, but no heat radiated out. Instead, tiny crystals began to form along his palm. Recoiling, Kohl gripped his hand close to his chest. That was all he needed, another scarred palm. The ice melted, leaving a wet stain on his shirt. At least he wasn’t hallucinating. He would not put it past the Olympi to create visions to keep unwanted people from his sacred mountain.
You are almost home, My King, that voice hissed once more.
Thin black snakes writhed on the ground, some curling around his ankles as he followed the blue-lit path. Serpents never bothered him—their venom could not hurt him, not like others, not like the gods. He was immune, something he learned as a child when playing with a venom-laced sword of his father’s. Now he knew why. Sorcerer blood was born from that very poison. The blackness that slithered through their veins when magic was usedproved that. Magic he’d finally learned to control—because magic was power, and he needed all the power he could get to get rid of Ander. Permanently.
The false gods will be dealt with in time, My King, again that voice sounded, though this time, it seemed to come from the very cave itself.
