Page 70 of A Spell of Bones and Madness
They wound up the steep stairs, entering into the castle where the warmth of raging hearths hit them, a stark change from the autumn air outside, though she did not dare discard her fur cloak just yet. Despite the warmth, an unnerving chill inched its way down her spine, causing the blood in her veins to course in rapid flows. She would need to be careful, keep herself calm and undetectable. That was the thing about sorcerers, thepharmakosof Hades especially—they could sense your disloyalty from the simple beat of your pulse.
It only took them a few moments to weave their way through the hallways to the great hall. A golden throne sat upon a raised dais on the opposing end to where they entered. A young man sat upon it, his shoulders dropped causally, his chin propped up in his palm as his gaze flipped back and forth between two bickering men. One—the spitting image of the young man only many years older. The other—attractive, but in a greasy way that made Chloe’s insides roll and bile churn in her gut. King Athanas and King Edmund.
Which made the young man—yes, she saw it, the glaring resemblance to Farah. So, this was the Kohl her brother despised so much. It was no wonder Katrin had been captivated by him. His jaw was strong, muscles built, and he had a strange sort of lightness about the way he carried himself. The look Chloe might mistake for empathy or kindness if she did not know better. This man was anything but compassionate, rather ruthless and lethal.
Clearing his throat, the guard stomped three times at the entrance to the hall. “Excuse me, Your Majesties, we have guests.”
Khalid turned first, and Chloe realized why Farah loathed her father so much. The way his eyes travelled up her curves,lingering on the place between her breasts where the robe parted, it was maddening. But she could not let the king notice the soft hitch in her breath, or clench of her fists. Next, Edmund looked over, though he seemed more interested in the men behind her—not of recognition or familiarity, but because they carried in the prized hydra. It was only when Kohl faced her, that Chloe regretted her decision. His brows wrinkled and he seemed to look straight past her facade.
“Khalid, Edmund, thank you for graciously allowing us into the castle. We have a gift from our lord—for your servitude and sacrifice.” She bowed, low enough that Khalid could see down her robe. No manner of shower or soap would cleanse her body or soul of that vile gaze, but for her brother it was worth it. “He is very pleased with you.” Her eyes dilated once more, and the three kings became mesmerized.
“A hydra,” Chloe continued, “for your ship, Khalid. It is a great honor to have Hades bestow such a prized possession onto mere mortals. You shall throw a party, to show your gratitude.” Her voice was clear, alluring, much like that of a siren calling sailors to their death in the sea below.
“You heard the priestess, gather all the men and women of the castle. Tonight we throw a feast,” Khalid exclaimed, so easily persuaded by Chloe’s charm and his own vapidness. The eldest king slithered his way over to her. “Come, priestess, I will show you the castle.”
It was then, as he slid the fur cloak off her body, that she wondered if she could restrain herself the whole night. If she wouldn’t shift and rip his very heart from his chest. No—that was not the reason she was here. But she vowed, as he breathed in her ear,whispering things he would like to do to her to show his gratitude, one day she would. For Farah. For Alexander. For herself.
Bonus Chapter: The Mystikistís
Thalia
Aknife slit the skin on the side of her stomach, thick, black blood bubbling out of the exposed wound. It felt as if her heart was stopping, but not from the lack of air from crushed ribs or from the slowing of blood in her veins. No, Thalia’s heart was stopping because her body was on fire. Everything burned, tears streamed down her face, taking the dirt of the short battle with them. Was it acid? Was there something on the blade that split her body in half that poisoned her?
Thalia loosened a feral scream as the blade cut once more into her flesh, this time the other direction, creating an X-shaped slice. Her vision blurred, tiny stars twinkling in the torch-lit room.
“What are you doing to her?” a low, gravely voice yelled and the cloaked figure next to her was pulled backward toward the hazy outline of a man.
“We have told you, if we stop cutting into her, the venom will take root in her heart. We have to bleed it out of her,” the cloaked man replied, his words silencing.
“You are killing her! How many times has she lost consciousness already? How many more until you realize you are harming her even more?” Who was this person? The voice sounded familiar, the accent thick.
The cloaked man pulled his arm back, picking up a vial of some clear substance. “How long have you studied the art of alchemy, wolf? We are trained for a century before we begin to operate on any mortal, even longer when treating amanteis, especially one as powerful as her.”
“If you cut one more time, I swear to the gods—”
“Jax?” Thalia breathed out, attempting to turn her head to the side. Her vision was rapidly decreasing, the periphery darkening to an endless black. “Jax, where is she?”
The hazy man leaned down so his lips were almost touching her ear and it was not dirty blonde hair that came into focus, but inky black strands, wind blown over silver coated eyes. “You wound me,gatáki,” he whispered, “I am much more handsome than the commander.”
She couldn’t help but tick the corner of her mouth up at the rakish prince, but the fleeting moment of peace ended as quickly as it came while another cloaked figure slit an equal mark on the opposing side of her stomach. “Gods dammit!” she howled, andan equally strained noise came from the corner of the room where Mykonos lay under a glowing blue light.
Thepsychí’spresence was dwindling, much like it did when they were apart for more than a few hours. A tether that was spiraling to its final thread seemed to link her with Mykonos, not the thickened bond they always had.
“What did I say about cutting into her?” Dimitris growled, pulling a long bladed knife out of nowhere and holding it to one of themystikistí’s throats.
“Down, wolf, if you chose to listen to the sounds of the room you would know it is working—not only from what we have told you, but also from her heart.”
Dimitris did not withdraw the blade right away, instead his ear twitched and he slowly closed his eyes. It was true, the initial pain of the cuts to her body were horrific, earth shattering, but her heart began to speed back to its normal beat and her veins did not feel dowsed in flame any longer. Blood that had first run black from her wounds now turned sanguine. The room began to come more into focus, though she wished it hadn’t. Dimitris now stood a step away, the secondmystikistíheld a vial of clear liquid that glowed with a cobalt hue, the same color that illuminated around the injured cat—the same glow that hung over the water rushing through the Acheron, the river of pain.
“You must drink this. It is the final step to your healing.” He poured the mixture into a cup and reached out his frail, leathery gray hand toward her lips.
In that moment Thalia knew it was more than just a matter of life and death. Death would be much sweeter, peaceful even, to slip inside the cocoon of the afterlife, run through the fields ofElysium. But that was not an option, not when there was a war on the horizon. So she let the glowing liquid slide down her throat, letting out another scream as it flowed into her veins, knowing it would not be the last time she felt pain. No—pain would be a constant now. Blue flames lit her eyes, a sign the liquid was working, that the souls of the underworld accepted her. A price for her life, bound to this realm for evermore. But the strangest part of it all was that Dimitris’s eyes seemed to do the same.
Bonus Chapter: The Aphrodite
Dimitris
It had taken him hours to fall asleep that night, replaying the disdainful look Thalia had given him each time she spoke. What would it take for the seer to give him a chance, or at least to not look at him like he was the scum that grew along the hull of a ship? When he eventually dozed off, it was the kind of deep, dreamless sleep that should have lasted until the morning. Yet when his eyes shot open, it was still moonlight that illuminated his quarters.
