Page 134 of Of Blood and Banes
My breath leaves me in an audible gasp as I stare up at the magnificent stained glass windows. “What is this?”
Marge follows my stare. “Must be the chapel. King Aaric had the one in Arterias destroyed, as he no longer believes in theGods…I imagine it must have looked much like this one.” She hobbles over to the windows, brushing her fingers across the glass and leaving a clean streak.
A chapel. I’ve never been in one. But I used to dream about the day I finally would with Cole. With his mother’s ring on my finger, him beside me, and his last name on my tongue. Bitterness coats my throat—parts of that dream came true. Except the reason I’m wearing his mother’s ring is because it’s a weapon. He walks the room with me, and I can’t recall the last time I told him I love him. And the only reason I can say I’m Katerina Ashbourne is because almost everyone thinks he’s my brother.
I swing my attention to Marge, then to the floor beneath my feet where a rumbling vibrates my boots. I follow Marge and whisper, “Can you feel it?”
Cole calls from the other side of the room, scanning sets of marble figures perched on stone podiums, “I do. Though…” He drops down and presses his fingertips to the marble tile, before glancing up at us across the room. “What do you think it is? If the castle is built on a mountain, surrounded by the lake and waterfalls…”
He knocks against the tile with his knuckles, listening carefully, before lowering his face and pressing an ear to the floor. He lifts his head again. “I think there’s something underneath this room.”
I follow suit, dropping to the floor and pressing my hand to the cold, grimy tile. What I thought was a rumbling of magic is something else entirely. I glance over my shoulder at Marge, who’s watching the two of us with knitted brows.
“Underground dungeons, perhaps? Or…” she trails off, scanning the room for a hint before she taps her staff against the ground.
“Or what?” I stand at the same time Cole does.
Her blue-gray eyes meet mine. “Or…they’re hatching grounds.”
“A’nala and Sethan’s group are on their way back to the main dining hall. They’ve tried all the doors in the kitchen and servers’ quarters they can, but just about everything seems to be locked,”Daeja calls.
“Weird…why lock the kitchens and servers’ quarters but not the library or chapel?”
“I don’t know. I suggested they try to break down the doors, but apparently it didn’t work.”
“What about Nadja, Bristol, Melaina, and Archie?”
“Still searching.”
“Got it.”I turn to Cole and Marge and relay the message before the three of us agree to head back and meet them. As we leave the chapel, I swear I see one of the marble statue’s eyes shift to follow us out, but as I spin to face it head on, its glazed eyes are set on the stained-glass windows.
We meet the rest of the group back in the dining room. Where Melaina’s group disappeared is an inset room that overlooks the massive dining hall. Two elegant throne chairs sit in the center, their golden frames twisted into intricate circles, swirls, and dragons of every shape and kind.
Behind the chairs, a door is propped open a few inches by a dagger—Archie’s dagger—with light leaking through and casting the throne chairs in a backlit glow of warmth. The door swings open farther, and Archie appears on the other side with a smile, holding it open for Melaina and ushering her in, followed by Bristol and, as Archie opens it wider, Nadja. Archie plucks his dagger from the ground then sheathes it before their group joins us near the throne.
“Any luck?” I ask.
All of them shake their heads.
Sethan turns his attention to Darian. “Now’s your chance to make a difference, boy. Tell us what you know.”
Darian sneers, staring Sethan up and down. “I’ll die before I tell you anything, you fucking slug.”
“Hey, watch your mouth!” Bristol snaps, jolting forward like he’ll fight Darian.
Archie moves forward, following Cole, and everyone swarms in to stop a fight before it breaks out. Darian shoves Cole, forcing him back, and his heel hits one of the throne chairs. Before he can topple over it, he regains his balance and slingshots back into the throng. Archie withdraws a dagger from his side, and as he’s shoved by a scraping Darian and Bristol, he accidentally slices Cole.
“Shit, sorry, Cole!” Archie calls.
“Sheathe your weapon!” Cole hisses, brushing Archie away from the throng. “Nobody needs to get hurt!”
“No, fucking cut me if you think you actually can,” Darian growls, before Cole seizes the chain to his shackles and tears him away from Bristol.
Their squabbling dies out as I focus on the chair. Magic buzzes beneath my feet, breathing and living. But also rising out of the hum comes a rushing current of whispers, growing louder and clearer as I step forward to the closest chair. As if led by some invisible force, I reach out, brushing my hand along the chair’s golden arm, and following each intricate curve, over dragons’ elegant figures, and swirls with rings.
Rings.
Two of them. Joined at the center.
