Page 15 of House of Embers
“This way,” he said.
He lit a torch in the creepy hall, and they went down, down, down.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
It was another ten minutes of stairs before they stopped in front of another metal door. Fordham’s hand disappeared into a pocket of shadows for a moment, and then a key appeared in his hand.
Kerrigan shook her head. “Not going to get used to that.”
He grinned as he inserted it into the door. It shrieked on unused hinges, and Kerrigan followed him inside.
“A crypt?” she asked. “Wow. You sure know how to show a girl a good time.”
Fordham laughed. “This is my family crypt. It dates back thousands of years.”
“Creepy.”
“I stole the key and made a copy when I was younger. I used to hide here when I was supposed to be doing other things or when my father wanted me to torment people. I just disappeared. And no one ever found me. It was my thinking place.”
“I’ll repeat, creepy.”
“The House of Shadows is a creepy place.” Fordham shrugged. “This is where I came before the ball when I brought you to the House of Shadows the first time. Prescott and Arbor found me sitting here.” He gestured to a stone. “Talking to my mother.”
“Oh,” she whispered. “Why didn’t you bring me then?”
“We were on much different terms. With the curse…”
“Right,” she said, stepping forward to look around.
Kerrigan could see the appeal, honestly. The room itself was larger than she would have thought for a crypt. Olliviers stretching backthousands of years had spaces all over the square space large enough for a few dragons to be comfortable in.
Fordham pointed out notable relatives. His father with his many wives interred beside him. The king during the Great War had a statue that nearly brushed the ceiling. A gleaming sword was at his side that Fordham explained was the sword he slayed the Society leader with. On the other side were long-distant cousins and aunts and uncles who had been lost to time. At the center was a full sarcophagus carved out of the same stone as the room. It depicted a Fae female with a crown on her head and her arms crossed over her chest, multiple rings on each finger. There was no written explanation of who she was.
“The first Ollivier.” He patted the sarcophagus. “It’s empty though. Not even the ashes remain. Or that’s what my dad always said.” He pointed out dates on the oldest plots. “They date back as far as when Fae first came to Alandria.”
“Fascinating. I think we have a tomb that dates back that far for Argons as well.” She sighed. “If Bastian hasn’t destroyed Waisley.”
Another thing to worry about.
“We’ll get it back,” Fordham said.
Kerrigan shook her head. “I wish I could go up against Bastian one-on-one and end it all.”
“I know you want to fight, but this isn’t that kind of battle.”
She paced the room as she fumed. She hated that he was right. Because of course he was right. Bastian would never go up against her like that. Not without his own contingencies in place. He’d come up against her with the full might of the Society, and she’d turned around and run away.
She couldn’t meet him and end this. There would be someone else to take up the mantle. Someone else who hated humans and half-Fae. Someone else who wanted to destroy the world.
Kerrigan sat on the ground with her back to the sarcophagus of the first Ollivier. “I can’t help but feel like we’re wasting our time.”
“I can’t help but think you want to throw yourself into danger to get this over with quicker.” He sank onto the cold floor next to her. “Are you planning something reckless?”
“Me?” she asked, fluttering her eyelashes.
“I know you always are, but I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want you to run off and get yourself killed. I couldn’t live without you.”
