She quickly wiped her eyes. “I’m so glad to be back. I never wanted to leave.”
The king glanced at her, his frown deepening. “Then why did you go?”
“I … I had to.”
“So Bastian said,” the king grunted. “I still think we could have found a less drastic solution where you would have been more comfortable.”
A strange pressure closed over her chest like a cold clamp forming around her heart. The king hadn’t wanted to send her to Earth? Had that been Bastian’s idea?
“It was safer that way,” she whispered.
“Safer?” Stern disapproval hardened his tone. “In what way has your safety been threatened within these walls?”
She shrank in her seat. “It hasn’t yet, but the risk of—”
Bracing a hand on the back of the bench, he leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Though the only role I can fulfill in your life is that of your king, I have and will continue to be your guardian, as I am to every member of this household. Here, you are safer than in any Earth city.”
Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Never before had the king spoken to her like that. Never had he even suggested he cared about her in the slightest.
“You—you are King Rouvin, aren’t you?” she blurted.
His eyes widened and he straightened with a bemused expression. “I assure you I am, though with the look you are giving me, I wonder if I should check my reflection.”
“I just—I mean—” Her cheeks heated. “I didn’t think my leaving would bother you.”
“How would you know my thoughts when you never gave me a chance to dissuade you?” He shook his head. “Fleeing in the dead of night without the slightest farewell wasn’t helpful in that regard.”
She tilted her head as though rattling the words in her skull might make their meaning clearer.
“Petrina was crushed,” Rouvin added. “You may have some work ahead of you to win her trust again. She felt abandoned.”
“I didn’t run away,” Clio protested, finding her voice. “I had to leave. To protect you.”
“To protect me? Whatever from, child?”
“From … from …” Her brain fizzled, thoughts scattering. “I had to leave because of the Ra threat.”
“The Ra threat?” The creases in his forehead deepened. “Tensions are higher than usual with the upcoming renewal of our trade agreement, but I would hardly describe it as a threat.”
“Trade agreement?” she whispered.
“Irida and the Ras have a long-standing agreement that’s renegotiated every decade. The politics are complicated and, yes, there are tensions and a certain amount of posturing involved in the negotiations, but I’ve successfully renewed the agreement every ten years since I took the throne.”
“But what about … what about the threat of invasion? The possibility of war?”
“Invasion? War? Clio, unless you know something I do not, I assure you we are at no risk of war with any territory.” He stepped closer and crouched to peer into her face. “You’re white as a snow lily. What is going on?”
“Ra wants to invade Irida,” she said blankly. “They’ve been pushing our borders for over a year. They’ve been commissioning special magic and preparing for war. You’ve been avoiding confrontation but you know that a conflict is coming.”
“What are you talking about, Clio?”
The invisible bands around her chest tightened. “Their spies are looking for ways to undermine you. I had to leave the Overworld and go where they could never find me.”
Rouvin stared at her, then gently grasped her hands. His skin felt fiery hot against her icy fingers.
“Take a deep breath, child. Inhale. Exhale. Good.” He squeezed her hands. “Why didn’t you tell Bastian about your fears?”
“Wh-what?”
“He tracked you down after you left, yes? He’s been checking on you for two years now, but you never told him your real reason for leaving?”
Her brain wasn’t working. Why didn’t his words make sense? “My real … reason?”
“He never mentioned your fear of spies. All I knew was you’d decided you needed time and space. I had assumed, or perhaps Bastian implied, that I … bore some of the responsibility for driving you away.”
She stared at her father, deafened by the sound of crashing stones in her head—the roar of her entire world falling apart around her.
“Bastian told you I ran away?” The words caught in her throat, and she had to choke them out. “He told you I wanted to leave Irida?”
Rouvin nodded cautiously.
“There is no threat from Ra? There are no spies? There isn’t an impending war?”
“Not at all. Child, where did you get such an idea?”
She couldn’t breathe at all. “Bastian.”
“What?”
“Bastian told me about the increasing threat. He talked about it for over six months before he asked me to leave Irida for the family’s safety.”
“He asked you to leave?”
She barely heard him, her eyes wide. Rouvin’s hands were her only anchor in the storm of realizations. “Everything I know about Ra came from him. No one else ever mentioned it, but he said it was confidential information, only discussed by the royal council. And he said—he said not to mention it to you because you were already stressed about it.”
A hundred memories flashed through her mind. “On Earth, all Kassia and I knew was what he told us. Eryx never contradicted anything he said. Even though … but why did he have me spy on Ra spell commissions?”
“Spy on Ra?” Rouvin squeezed her hands again. “Clio, breathe. Breathe, child. Come now.”
She realized she was hyperventilating. “There is a Ra threat,” she gasped. “There has to be. Otherwise—otherwise—”
“Otherwise my son has been lying to you for well over two years?” the king finished for her, his voice quiet. “And lying to me.” He released her hands and rose. Turning, he strode from the room, his voice ringing out. “Bastian!”
Clio scrambled to her feet and raced after him. He was marching across the reception hall, his advisors clamoring around him.
“Find the prince!” Rouvin barked. “Immediately! I don’t care what you interrupt. Drag him here naked if you must.”
Clio hunched her shoulders, aware of the confused, critical stares snapping over her. “Your Majesty, what …”
“We will learn the reason for my son’s deceptions shortly, Clio,” he assured her, grim anger vibrating in his voice. “I am certain he has a reason.”
She didn’t understand the way he growled that last word. A reason. Could Bastian have a reason for his cruel deceptions? Was there an explanation that could make everything right again? He must have a reason, one so crucial and profound she and the king would forgive him—protecting her, protecting his father and his family, protecting his kingdom.
She and the king, surrounded by advisors, waited in the center of the grand hall. No one said a word; the king’s anger held them all in silence.
A door slammed and running footsteps pattered across the hall. A nymph guard raced to the king and dropped to one knee.
“Your Majesty,” the guard panted. “Prince Bastian’s suites are empty. He was last seen an hour ago when a messenger informed him of Lady Clio’s arrival.”
“Where has he gone?” King Rouvin demanded. “He’s here somewhere. Bring him to me.”
“Your Majesty, he appears to …” The nymph cleared his throat. “He appears to have left the palace … covertly.”
The pounding silence sucked all the air out of the hall.
“Find him.” At those two quietly spoken words, every daemon in the hall leaped into action.
Clio shivered where she stood, arms wrapped around herself. Bastian had received a message that she was here—that she was alive after being taken prisoner in Chrysalis—and he had left the palace? Why?
“Huh?” The muttered exclamation came fr
om behind her. “What—”
Clio turned as the nymph guard dug in his pocket, his brow furrowed in confusion. He lifted something between two fingers: a green gem pulsing with soft golden light.
Lyre’s tracking spell.
It was active? He had triggered the twin spell? But he wasn’t supposed to use it until nightfall.
Sickening dread swept through her and she snatched the gem from the guard’s hand. As soon as she touched the cool stone, sensation flooded her mind—a pulse calling her forward. The signal beat like a drum, coming from a point north-northeast of her.
A point much farther from the garden where she had left Lyre.
“How long?” she demanded, clutching the gem. “How long ago did it activate?”
“I—I don’t know,” the guard stammered, caught off guard by her urgent intensity. “I was paying attention to—”
He broke off and they both looked at the gem in her hand. With a stuttering flash, the light blinked out and the pulse in her head vanished.
The tracking spell had gone silent.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Lyre lounged in the back of the storage shed, leaning against the wall with gardening tools stacked on either side of him. He rolled the green tracking spell between his finger and thumb as faint light from the gaps around the door glittered across its surface.
He hated waiting. He hated sitting here doing nothing. He hated feeling helpless and vulnerable, and he really hated feeling like a burden.
He’d felt like a needless burden since setting foot in the Overworld. They were here to get his KLOC back but he’d contributed nothing to their efforts. Now he was hiding in a damn shed while Clio ventured into the royal palace alone.
Of course, being the daughter of the king, she was probably safe. Then again, it was her brother’s bodyguard who’d almost killed her, then left her to die in Asphodel. So he wasn’t entirely sure.
But what could he do? Among a different caste, he could have disguised himself, but not here. Not surrounded by nymphs with astral perception. He didn’t even dare leave the shed despite how vulnerable he felt in the cramped space where he couldn’t see if anyone was coming.
He let his head fall back against the wall. Nymphs. Such an odd caste. Walking through this city had been an eye-opening experience. Males and females, all petite and beautiful, flitting around in skimpy clothes without a hint of self-consciousness. The boys were as pretty as the girls and difficult to tell apart at a glance.
The chimeras, however, were a whole different breed. Clio had explained the nymph/chimera arrangement so it hadn’t come as a complete surprise, but seeing the tall, tattooed, red-haired daemons mixed among the ivory-skinned nymphs had still been a shock. And what the nymphs lacked in appropriate suspicion, the chimeras more than made up for in natural aggression.
All in all, he felt more comfortable among chimeras than nymphs. Chimeras, with their confident swagger and ready-to-fight attitudes, were reassuring in their familiarity. These gentle, cheerful nymphs were just … weird.
Clio being the exception. She was his gentle, cheerful nymph.
He tossed the tracking spell into the air and caught it again. How long would he have to wait? What if Clio didn’t come back? Sneaking out of here in the dark would be a nightmare. He’d been hopelessly lost about two minutes into the city, and beyond that, he had even less of a clue. If Clio never came back for him … the prospect of being stranded in an enemy world with no escape was terrifying.
He tried to focus on something else—anything else.
Clio’s childhood home had been nice. He’d liked the quiet meadow. The monstrously oversized trees commanded a presence of their own, like ancient, watchful guardians. He could have happily stayed there for a few days recovering his strength. Too bad they hadn’t had the time.
With that, his thoughts slid right back into pointless, worry-filled circles. Assuming Clio’s meeting with her brother went well, would he turn over the KLOC? Lyre doubted it. He fully expected he’d have to steal it back. How he would steal it was the big question.
Maybe he would have to tell them what the KLOC could really do—the real danger he hadn’t revealed even to Clio. Maybe that would frighten them into returning it so he could destroy it. Assuming he could destroy it.
It was easier to worry about the KLOC. He didn’t have the energy to think about what would come after. No matter how well things here went, when he was done, he would have to walk right back into the nightmare he’d left behind on Earth. Countless bounty hunters tracking his every move. A dark, dank city where he would have to find a way to survive. And, if he’d interpreted Reed’s warning correctly, his father either planned to join the hunt or was already weaving his lethal webs in Brinford.
Whatever waited for him in the human world, he would face it alone. Clio would stay here, with her people and her family. Leaving her behind felt … wrong, like a betrayal. They had escaped Asphodel together, and his subconscious had decided that meant they would stay together. But that had never been possible or even expected. She had her own life to return to, and he had a new life to build. Somehow. With Lyceus coming for him, Lyre doubted he’d get a chance to try.
Lost in bleak thoughts, he watched the floating dust motes dance in the line of sunlight leaking around the doorframe.
Then the line of sunlight darkened.
He stiffened. Something—someone—had moved in front of the door, blocking the light. Gripping the chain around his neck, ready to activate his shields, he didn’t even breathe.
A rapping on the wood made him jump. Someone was knocking?
“I’m opening the door,” a male voice warned, muffled by the wood. “Don’t attack.”
Lyre rose to his feet, back to the wall, as the door swung open. Light flooded the shed’s interior, silhouetting the man standing in the threshold—a horned chimera with a bladed pike in his hand. The weapon carried by the palace guards.
The soldier backed away, leaving the doorway wide open.
“Lyre, isn’t it?” a soft, refined voice called. “Please come out.”
The breeze carried the scents of multiple daemons but Lyre didn’t know how many. Staying in the dark shed seemed stupid, so he touched the gems around his neck, activating his defensive weaves, then pinched the tracking spell between his finger and thumb.
This spell was his lifeline. If he was captured, the tracking spell would lead Clio to him, and he couldn’t risk them taking it.
Keeping the movement casual, he brought his hand to his face as though adjusting the hood of his cloak, and with the motion, he slipped the gemstone into his mouth. Empty-handed, he cautiously approached the doorway.
Five unfamiliar chimera soldiers waited for him in a loose half-circle around the shed. In their center was a nymph. His long blond hair was tied back and his features were too beautiful to call masculine. Unlike the half-naked nymphs in the city, he was dressed more conservatively in a gray-blue tunic and fitted pants, both expensive-looking garments. His ice-blue eyes watched Lyre carefully beneath elegant eyebrows, his cheekbones accented with the greenish markings all nymphs had.
Lyre wasn’t sure if it was obvious to him because he was looking for it, but he didn’t see how anyone could miss the family resemblance between this nymph and Clio.
Lyre crossed his arms and leaned one shoulder against the doorframe. At the same time, he used his tongue to tuck the gem into his cheek and hoped his aura hid the weaving’s glow from the nymph’s asper.
“Bastian, right?” he asked coolly.
“His Highness,” a chimera corrected in a growl, “Prince Bastian Nereid, crown prince of Irida.”
Bastian raised a placating hand to his guard. Lyre’s eyebrows rose higher. Interesting how the prince had waited until after the chimera had finished spouting his titles before quieting him.
“And you would be Lyre Rysalis, master weaver and fifth son of Lyceus Rysalis, head of Chrysalis.” Bastian smiled with cautious warmth
. “You are the daemon I must thank for saving Clio’s life.”
Lyre returned the smile, keeping his expression smooth and pleasant. Well, well. With a mere two sentences, the prince had Lyre’s instincts buzzing with warning. He had been playing deadly games of manipulation since he was a child, and with that experience, he could see subtle red flags all over Bastian.
“Have you talked to her, then?” Lyre asked, trying to get a feel for what Bastian knew—and what game he was playing.
“Not yet,” he admitted. “I wanted to speak with you first.”
Hmm, Lyre hadn’t expected that honesty. “Why is that?”
Bastian folded his hands behind his back, his expression somber. His guards waited, their pikes held informally but their focus on Lyre.
“I learned of what befell Clio from my bodyguard Eryx upon his return,” Bastian said, “so I know something of your role in her survival—and, I assume, her escape from the Underworld.”
“Did Eryx tell you he killed Kassia, betrayed Clio, and left her to die?”
“He did.” Bastian’s expression hardened. “For his actions, Eryx has been incarcerated.”
“So why are you here talking to me instead of Clio?”
Bastian didn’t react to his accusatory tone. “I am here because my father is not a tolerant king. With the growing threats against our kingdom, he is especially paranoid. If he learns there is a Hades daemon in the city, I fear he may react rashly.”
“But you’re not prone to rashness, are you?” Lyre asked mockingly.
Bastian ignored that too. “I do not believe punishing you would be in the best interests of my family or my kingdom. You are a daemon of talent and skill—and of honor, or you would not have protected Clio at risk to your own life. I have come to speak with you, to ascertain your trustworthiness for myself, so I can convince my father to offer you asylum.”
“Asylum?”
“A new home. A sanctuary where Hades cannot reach you.”
Yep, he’d been right. This here was a walking, talking, scheming ball of slime in the shape of a nymph prince.
The Shadow Weave Page 24
