Page 31 of The Princesses of Ruin
Kazimir scoffs. “You think the goddess will come on a whim?”
“She’s already waiting for us,” Alyse says. Her eyes lock on mine.“She knows what you’ve done.”
I would do it again.
Her eyes shimmer with gold.“Good.”
Chapter twelve
Adrik
The Nest is a hive of activity. I dodge bodies rushing this way and that as I hurry to the war room on Zane’s summon. The door is sealed shut and warded at every grain, so I knock.
Black magic filled with glittering gold sparks lights up the runes inscribed along the frame, and the door opens.
“Emillia,” I say, then clear my throat. “Captain Alejandra, what are you doing here?”
“Summoned,” she says. There’s no hint of the playful smirk I’ve come to associate with our interactions of the last week. Her eyes are wide, lips pressed to a thin line. She steps back from the door only enough for me to slip through. “Come.”
I slide through the crack of the door and shock hits me again at the sight at the table. On the other side of the room is a woman I’ve never seen, but could not mistake, for her aura is powerful. Gold-flecked black magic halos her seven-foot frame. Her eyes burn like liquid metal, and I’m forced to avert my gaze before they burn me through. She holds a hammer in one hand, and the other is braced on the war room table. Her flowing white garb moves on an invisible wind, ruffling when all else in the room is still.
I tremble as her magic stretches behind me. The wards of the door reactivate, and I swallow my fear to speak.
“My goddess Zephrom, origin of Justice,” I say in Seterian as I bow deeply.
“Adrik Lemtov, the most powerful alchemist of his time,” the goddess says. Her words are so divine I’m ashamed to revel in them. “The world has need of your skill.”
“I serve the Nest and its goals,” I say, knowing that Zephrom herself is the urictsa creature that has inhabited the building for centuries.
Zane slides three sheaves of creased parchment across the table toward me. “Maarie has uncovered a spell to defeat Ashai.”
Emillia follows me to the table, sticking close behind. Her presence is more of a comfort than I thought it could be as I approach one of the immortal creators of magic. I spare a glance up at Zephrom as I grab the pages. She’s smiling softly, like she knows some essential secret. If she’s here, she must.
I spread the pages out and read the first.
Armor of the Eternal Tempest.
Toxin of the Hollow Fang.
Barb of the Shadow Stalker.
Acid of the Abyssal Devourer.
Hide of the Midnight Howl.
“These are ingredients?” I ask.
“Indeed,” Zephrom says. “Storm dragon scale, giant spider venom, duskwalker antler, sea serpent bile, and dire wolf fur.”
“This can’t be,” I say. I glance at Zane. He’s stoic, as usual, so I turn to Kazimir. He too wears a serious expression. I look at Zephrom, but her presence quickly overwhelms me. I return my gaze to the pages.
The brew instructions are lengthy. It’s a delicate, time-consuming process. I feel the eyes of everyone in the room on me as I move through the instructions.
“This is the antithesis of the ritual she tried to perform on Scarlett?” I ask.
“It is,” Scarlett says. “It will make her current vessel weak and allow all her magic to flow freely.”
I scowl. “I know we are fighting a goddess, but is she not vulnerable to Reina’s magic in the way we’d thought?”
