Page 116 of The Crown of a Fallen Queen
Seth’s lips press together. “Blackmail, I suppose. You ready?”
“Let’s go.” I nod.
Seth’s shoulders hitch. “And we’re agreed?” he purses his lips. “There’s no secret assassination in the cards?”
“I won’t try to kill your brother. Unless he gives me good reason to.”
Seth pries one of my hands away from Percy’s shroud and laces our fingers, taking ownership of it and squeezing it tightly. “Let’s go together.”
I step forward.
The sensation of traveling through an obsidian passage is similar to the one we experience when we get our Shadow masks, like stepping into liquid darkness. The shadows slip inside every orifice, smooth and warm as butter. The feeling is strangely serene, yet similar to drowning, though it only lasts a second.
The room on the other side is furnished with thick leather pieces and a marble desk. The hearth is dark. A fancy drink cart stocked with some of the most expensive brands of wines and hard liquors known to Fae is set next to the cushy leather chairs. The desk is pristine, with no trace of dust or clutter. Thorald Storm has been dead for less than a week, so the cleanliness of his study neither confirms nor denies Seth’s hypothesis that it’s been sitting empty since he died.
I tiptoe to one of the turret windows and risk a glance outside.
We’re on top of the Zepharion Tower, the highest point in the fortress. The sea below is much like it was in Deiltine—foaming and dangerous—but this stronghold sits higher, with four hundred feet of rock beneath our feet. More than enough to give anyone a bout of vertigo.
On the horizon, the south-eastern window offers a soul-shattering view of the sunrise, while the distant silhouette of the Islantide, the infamous island beyond the Breach, is covered in mist.
“Damian was right. The Tidecallers’ army is here.” Seth waves me over to the northern window, where the port of Zepharion sprawls along the secluded bay.
Hundreds of ships are anchored in the dark, icy waters—sleek vessels with tall masts and black sails rippling in the coastal wind, their hulls reinforced with dark metal fittings that gleam beneath the bright orange glow of the sunrise in the East.
“Should we look quietly for Luther or Willow? Or announce ourselves?”
I click my tongue, stepping away from the window. “Breaking in is fair game. Skulking around? Not so much.”
If we’d come here to kill Luther, I might’ve tried stealth, but sneaking into Luther or Willow’s private quarters would only telegraph dark intentions. We’re walking straight into the wolf’s den as a sanctioned peace delegation, and we need to act like it. No games.
I move to the door leading outside the king’s office and knock loudly on the metal. If it’s known to be a way in and out of the fortress, it must be guarded. “Hello? Is anybody there?”
One gasp, and then?—
“Who’s there?” an urgent, masculine voice asks.
“Devi Eros. I want to speak with the Lord of the Tides.”
“Open the door,” the voice orders.
I press my palm to the cold metal. “No, not until she stands before me. Be warned, I will not open the door for anyone else.”
Hurried footsteps echo in the distance.
Seth leans closer, his breath stirring the hairs at the nape of my neck. “Is this how you usually act during dangerous and delicate covert operations, or should I be worried?” he jokes, trying to take the edge off.
I’m not sure if I want to punch his face for teasing me at a time like this, or thank him for shaking me out of my grief.
“We’re one end-all blade short and bleeding through our clothes. Let’s not beat around the bush. If Willow and Luther decide we’re worth more to them dead, there’s not much we can do,” I say.
“You’d have enough magic to fight them now that the cupids are gone.”
A shiver quakes me. It hurts to contemplate the possibility that my curse has been vanquished, that I’m finally free, when the only soul I wanted to share that joy with is no more. “And what if they’re only momentarily deactivated? What if, as soon as I use magic again, another red cloud forms above our heads?”
“What if it doesn’t?”
Two sets of loud footsteps echo from the other side. “Shush, someone’s coming.” I press my ear to the door.
